stranger ➳ camriana one shot a.u.

stranger

"Tell me, Ms. Grande," the professor paused, inching his reading glasses up his nose before adjusting himself as if preparing to take more notes, "start from the beginning of when you saw her yesterday."

"I remember everything from when we first met to the very last second I spent with her. And no matter how much you wanna tell me to forget her, I will never forget her," I told the doctor firmly, nothing he said was going to change my mind.

"Go on," he encouraged, his voice soft and unmoved.

"I remember I was coming out of a store . . ."

I was fiddling with the thin shopping bag I had been given to hold the heavy leather jacket I had bought Frankie for his birthday. I stood near the middle of the road where people in cars usually would be trying to find places to park. It was unusually quiet during this time of day, and I didn't mind it one bit at all. However, it was kind of nice to get away from everyone for a few and have my own space for a while, I decided as I juggled my car keys in my free hand.

Finally, when I gathered all my things together better, I looked up, into the mostly empty parking lot, searching for my car. Almost as soon as I spotted my beat up, four-seater of a cheap Jeep, I began heading towards it. Biting my lip as I glanced down just quick enough to adjust my sunglasses to see where I was going. As my eyes drifted back upwards, my eyes caught onto a beautiful Latina walking by, in the near distance, to an expensive-looking vehicle with a few of what I assumed was her friends.

She had long, dark brown hair with luscious wand curls that helped part her hair to the right. She wore not an ounce of lipstick, they were naturally pink and full with perfectly done makeup on the rest of her face to bring out her natural and bold beauty. She seemed a little short next to her friends, and it may have been because most of the people she was with were guys. She had on a dark blue sweater with black skinny jeans that were torn slightly for style, and pair of dinged-up black converse. Her skin was a flawless tanned porcelain color, not too dark and not too light.

I watched as the girl slightly tilted her head down, and barely covered her shy, beautiful smile with her hands. Her laugh was velvety and sweet, and she was still giggling as she happened to look my way.

"I remember what she looked like yesterday with the sunlight shining on her like it did. She looked so shiny and beautiful — dark even — especially with how I remember her eyes."

"And what did you remember about her eyes, Ms. Grande?" the doctor pressed, still unaffected by my words as he scribbled down a few things.

He didn't believe me, I thought bitterly.

"They were beautiful, Dr. Broome," I paused, taking a moment for myself as I recalled her facial features. "They were a dark brown that only seemed to get darker and more intense the closer you looked at her pupils. They always changed shades of brown based on how she was feeling: light for when she was happy, dark for when she was sad, angry, or aroused."

"How did you feel when you first saw her?" Dr. Broome tried to start.

"When I first saw her again, I had a moment," I paused after cutting him off and giving him a glare, inhaling deeply to keep myself from getting angry or crying. "I got a hint of déjà vu. It really was her!" I yelled, standing up out of my chair; tears stung my eyes as the psychologist frowned, showing his first sign of empathy towards me.

I had to of been dreaming, but it had to of been her. Just within those short few seconds of her looking my way, I felt a rush of emotions and a knot in the pit of my stomach as a flash of heat ran through my body. Suddenly, unable to breathe properly and on the verge of breaking, it was like she had sucked all the air out of my lungs with a single look. In attempt to calm myself, I kept my mind going; it's not really her, she's just a stranger now, Ariana.