Iba caminando en la calle y crucé miradas con un chico guapísimo. Creo que nos gustamos

I was walking down the street and locked eyes with a gorgeous guy. I think we liked each other. But then I saw him staring at another girl's back as she walked by. So I lunged at him and yanked his hair. We hadn't even started dating and he already wanted to cheat on me. I saw him fall to his knees in the middle of the street, his eyes wide as if I were a monster, and all I could feel was my chest burning with rage. His hair was trapped in my fist, his phone was being fought over between our hands, and all around us I could hear voices yelling, "Let him go!" And yet, all I could think was: how quickly a man can feign innocence when he's caught looking at someone else. I'm going to tell you from the beginning so you understand why I did what I had to do. My name is Carla, and I've always been the kind of person who feels things with certainty, not doubt. Some people need months to know if they like someone; I know with a look, with a single second of pure energy. It's not a whim, it's instinct, it's that kind of connection that hits you like the universe is pushing you from behind. And when I feel that, it's not "I like him," it's "he's mine," because what you recognize isn't negotiable. That's why I walk through life with my eyes open: not to look for just anyone, but to identify the inevitable when it appears. That day I was walking normally, thinking about my own things, not wanting to talk to anyone, and that's when I saw him. Nico was leaning against a wall as if he were born to be looked at, with that posture that isn't effort, it's habit. He had that "I know I'm handsome" look on his face, but without the shame of hiding it, and that provokes a strange mix in me: pride and challenge. Pride because I know how to recognize quality when it's right in front of me. Challenge because men like that think they can be divided up, as if the world owes them free attention. And I'm not a buffet. When our eyes met, it wasn't lukewarm or casual; it was direct, like a wire making contact. He held my gaze a little longer than usual, and that doesn't happen by accident; it's intentional. I felt that spark you don't feel with just anyone, the kind that plants a complete idea in your head without asking permission. In my mind, in a second, there was already a timeline: us with routines, us with dates, us with that kind of complicity that only couples who belong to each other have. 0:00 Main Story 8:23 Main Story Comments 9:25 Update 1 16:24 Update 1 Comments 17:17 Update 2 24:29 Update 2 Comments 25:24 Update 3 32:27 Update 3 Comments 33:30 Update 4 39:23 Update 4 Comments