Ana Oliveira Part 3

“Driver!” I shouted. “Stop in front of the La Grassa condo, please!”
I didn’t look back as I ran out of the bus, seeing the sign for my condo in pink tones. As I finally got off, I heard the bus pulling away, the heavy engine fading in the distance.
I rested my hands on my knees and exhaled, smiling. That was... that was... cool. The hot guy from school talked to me, sat right next to me, and seemed interested. I remembered that enigmatic look, how he didn’t feel awkward staring at my face, studying every inch of my features. It was hard to understand what was going on in his head. I couldn’t accept the idea that the most handsome guy in class might be interested in me, especially at a time when I was so down and gloomy.
“It’s kind of inappropriate to sit on a guy’s lap like you did...” I straightened up immediately, feeling nervous with that deep, sensual voice behind me. “I won’t be able to control my imagination in the shower.”
I froze, feeling him pass by me like a carefree breeze. What the hell was he doing? I watched him enter through the brown metal gates of my condo. I saw him greet the doorman and walk confidently toward the pink house on the corner. Then he stopped at the gate, turned toward me, and lit a black cigarette.
Swallowing hard, struggling to walk, I grabbed the straps of my backpack and headed toward the opposite sidewalk, trying to ignore him. Maybe he knew someone in that house. But I couldn’t understand what he meant about his shower. Did he say he was going to...
No! I thought, shaking my head and trying to quicken my pace.
“Sweetie!” I heard a squeal behind me.
I turned on my heels, facing the woman running awkwardly toward me, holding grocery bags in both hands. I went to her and offered to take some bags.
“Hi, Auntie!” I greeted, accepting the kiss on the cheek she gave me.
Marina’s skin was flushed. In minimal sunlight, her cheeks would turn red. I guess it was genetic; it happened to me too. Her curly hair was pinned up in a bun on top of her head. Her long yellow dress had its thin straps fallen off her shoulder, and I adjusted them with my right hand. Her square face looked weary, and worry lines began forming on her forehead.
“Sweetie, you look so good... How was the class?” she asked, affectionately.
“It was better than I expected...” I said, looking at the boy’s gate.
I shivered as I saw him puffing on the cigarette while walking toward us. Damn! Why was he coming over?
“Hello!” he greeted, approaching Marina from behind, startling her.
“Boy!” she scolded. “You don’t come up behind people like that, especially in Rio de Janeiro.”
“Oh, but here in the condo it’s fine,” he joked. “By the way, my name is Josiah Marquez! I live here.”
Marina and I stared at the house he pointed to, which was right on the corner of the main street. My aunt stared at him, biting her cheek, a tic she had when she was intrigued.
“Marquez? So you’re the mayor’s son?” she asked, adjusting her posture, interested.
Josiah’s expression became a bit guarded; he seemed to clench his jaw as he nodded and stubbed out the cigarette with his shoe. I took the opportunity to study him more closely, noting that he had a very small black gauge in his right ear. God! I was so nervous that beads of sweat were running down my back.

"And you? What are your names?"
"I’m Marina, and this is my niece, Ana," she said, as Josiah bent down to pick up his cigarette butt from the ground. "From the uniform, you guys go to the same school."
"And the same class," the boy said, smiling at me.
My aunt fixed her dark gaze on me with curiosity. A hoarse voice in the distance made Marina turn her attention away from me. We all looked in the same direction as the short elderly man waved, showing a bundle of letters from afar.
"Here, Josiah, take these groceries to my house with Ana while I get my mail!"
She didn’t ask; she shoved the bags into the boy’s arms and walked away. I was embarrassed, walking beside him in silence. I still couldn’t forget what Josiah said about the shower, and every time the phrase came back to me, something heated up inside me.
"Your aunt seems nice," he said as we walked slowly. "I’ve seen her around here a lot, but this is the first time I’ve seen you."
"Yeah, I moved in with her recently, and I haven’t been out much."
"I see..."
We walked in silence through several streets until we finally reached the yellow house. It was a simple two-story building with windows and doors made of glossy wood. The wall was tall, only allowing the second floor to be seen from the outside.
"Thanks for the help!" I said, taking the remaining bags from his large hands.
"Anytime, Ana!"
I watched him turn, tossing the cigarette butt into the orange street bin attached to a post. I set the bags on the sidewalk and began turning the key in the white gate while hearing that whistle again. I looked at him across the street, his lips curved into a perfect smile for me. My heart did a little dance, and I was annoyed to realize that just looking at Josiah made him react.
One surprising thing was that, throughout all the moments since the bus, I had forgotten I was grieving. I had completely forgotten, and that never happened.
"It doesn’t suit you, Ana!" he shouted, making me huff. I turned my back, pushing the gate with my foot, irritated because I liked my name. "I’ll call you Sweetie!"
It wasn’t until I got inside and the smell of jamelões hit my nose that the memories attacked me. It was my father's favorite fruit. But still, it was shocking to realize that just a few moments with that boy made me feel a faint spark of life.