Lutteo ficweek

Como esa lluvia que moja el corazón

"It's raining and you forgot your umbrella so I offered for us to share but this was a mistake because you're tall and I am not and the wind is blowing water in my face and goddammit get down here"

"You're an exchange student and my family is hosting you, we might become just a little too close during your stay"

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"Matteo, hurry up! I wanna get home before it starts raining again." Luna says while leaning against the lockers, waiting for the boy to get his books into his backpack.

Matteo looks at her apologetically, trying to make his huge algebra textbook fit, even though the task seems impossible. Does he really need to take all of his books home for the weekend? Geez. "Sorry, chica delivery. I had to stay a bit late to talk with the teacher about the physics essay for next week."

No matter how desperate she is to get home, she has to smile at the nickname. Matteo had started calling her that since he found out she works part-time making deliveries on skates for a fast food restaurant called Foodger Wheels. He'd made fun of her at the time, but lately, he has gained a new appreciation for his friend's job. She sometimes comes home with food she sneaks out with Simón's help, while her boss isn't looking, and Matteo really loves the fries. They aren't that good, in Luna's opinion, but Matteo always says he didn't get to eat much fast food stuff back in Italy, because his parents didn't like it, so he needs to make up for lost time.

Matteo finally gets his things to all fit inside his backpack, and when he turns to her with a self-satisfied smirk (which doesn't make her heart skip a beat, she swears), she sighs with relief. "Let's go then, chico fresa. You took long enough already". She starts making her way to the entrance, not bothering to look back at him; she knows he's following her. Sure enough, he passes her by and opens the door for her with an exaggerated gesture. "After you, milady" he whispers closely to her ear as she exits the building, never once breaking eye contact. She stops for a moment, looking at him with the same intensity. She thinks it's really strange, how brown eyes can be so common and yet, every time she looks into his, it feels like the first time she's ever seen the color. His gaze is just so warm and captivating, and somehow, it always makes her breath catch in her throat.

She wonders just when she got so sappy, she definitely wasn't like this two months ago when the Italian first came to live with her family. She remembers being absolutely surprised when her parents told her they'd signed up to be a host family for her school's exchange program. The incredibly fancy Blake South College was affiliated with other equally prestigious schools around the world, and they'd all convened on giving each institution's best students the opportunity to attend to one of the other schools for a trimester and get to learn about the other country's culture. Ámbar Smith, Luna's sort-of cousin, was the only one of the Blake's students chosen for the program and was now happily studying in Paris, and posting every second of her experience on social media. The Blake had the pleasure of welcoming two students, one freshman from Norway who was staying with the family of one of the guys in Luna's biology class, and Matteo Balsano, the Italian wonder-boy currently living at her house. She remembers the day they'd gone to pick him up to the airport. She'd been late; still in her uniform, since she'd come from school after staying late for a project. She recalls seeing her parents helping a guy with his (very expensive looking) bags and running over to them. She ended up tripping the moment she reached them and knocking into the guy. Talk about a good first impression. After apologizing for her clumsiness and regaining her balance, she'd allowed herself to take a good look at him: Tall and slender, lots of curly brown hair, very handsome features, fancy designer clothes, a smirk that looked permanently etched into his face. Her dad had interrupted her staring with the proper introductions and then they'd been off. Matteo had kept stealing smug glances at her the whole car ride to her house between answering all of her parent's questions about him and Italy. He'd been pretty nice and polite to them, but his gaze still had made Luna uncomfortable. When they'd gotten home, the Valentes had shown him to the guest room and left Luna and Matteo by themselves. The first thing he'd said to her was "Nice fall back at the airport. I know I'm handsome but you shouldn't try to throw yourself at me anymore. Bet your parents wouldn't be too happy with that." His smirk had infuriated her even more than his words had and she promptly left the room with a huff; not before telling him to shut the hell up, calling him chico fresa (not her best insult, but she'd been pretty out of it at the time) and hearing him call after her with half a laugh. The next morning she'd dreaded going down to have breakfast, but decided not to be a coward and found him alone in the kitchen, finishing the pancakes Mónica Valente had made for him. "What did you call me yesterday? Chico fresa, wasn't it? Why did you call me that? I don't believe I've heard "strawberry" used as an insult before," He'd asked, his arrogant grin not faltering even when she'd decided to steal the last of his pancake before he'd had a chance to eat it himself. She'd pointed at him with a fork, glowering, "In México, that's how we call self-centered idiots like you, who go around thinking they are God's gift to humanity". He'd put his hands up, chuckling, "Well, you do have to admit He did a pretty stellar job with me. I'm impressive, if I do say so myself." Luna had rolled her eyes at that and tried to bring him down a few pegs by calling him a couple choice words and glaring at him some more; but he seemed to have a witty and ridiculous response for everything she said; and while part of her had wanted to empty the bottle of maple syrup over his head, she'd been pretty entertained by the whole conversation. At one point, she let out a genuine laugh, not being able to contain herself any longer. At that, Matteo had widened his eyes a little and given her a smile that had lacked the arrogance she'd come to think was characteristic of him. He stretched his hand towards her, inviting her to take it and without thinking, she did. A weird electricity had passed through her at that moment, which she'd decided to ignore. He looked at her with those deep brown eyes of his and said in a gentler voice than she'd expected, "I think we've argued enough, don't you? How about a truce? We'll be living under the same roof for a while, I'd like it if we could get along." She looked for any sort of malice in his eyes but found none. "So we start over?" she asked with hesitation. He nodded, a serious look taking over his features, "Hi, my name is Matteo Balsano and I hope you and I can become friends." She smiled at that, "I'm Luna Valente, and I'd like that, Chico fresa." They'd laughed together after that, and the tension from before had been quickly forgotten.