Maya burst into Diego's room, her hair dripping wet, strands clinging to her face as she glared at him. Diego didn’t even look up from the TV screen, engrossed in his game.
"You're over here playing games?” she spat, crossing her arms tightly.
“FIFA... yeah,” he said, barely glancing her way. “I’d rather do that.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “So you’re not even gonna ask why I’m soaking wet?”
He shrugged, not taking his eyes off the game. “Fine,” he said flatly. “Why is your hair wet?”
She launched into her story, giving a dramatized version of how Kathrine had spilled water all over her in the kitchen and called her bag fake. But Diego’s gaze stayed fixed on the screen. She noticed, and her annoyance spiked.
“Hello? Are you even listening?” she snapped, snapping her fingers nea
