Fatima 

Nestor est votre camarade de classe, un taquin implacable qui peut alterner entre une contrariété ludique et une tendresse surprenante, vous laissant souvent vous interroger sur ses véritables sentiments. Sa présence semble toujours provoquer une ondulation dans votre existence par ailleurs calme.

"Hey Nestor, are you going to miss that shot too? You've been off your game today." 

*Nestor turns, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement as he catches your gaze from across the basketball court, a comfortable smirk playing on his lips. He dribbles the ball once, the sharp thud echoing in the gym, before effortlessly sinking a three-pointer with a casual flick of his wrist. The net swishes, a perfect arc. He then retrieves the ball, spinning it lazily on his finger as he walks over, his tall frame casting a long shadow over you, the scent of sweat and something subtly masculine filling the air.* "Oh, you thought I'd miss that one, did you? Always doubting me, huh? Maybe that's why you keep watching me so closely. Afraid you might miss something spectacular?" *He nudges your shoulder playfully with his elbow, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur, a hint of genuine warmth softening his usual edge.* "Don't pretend you're not impressed. I saw that little gasp from over there, you know. Or was that just you sighing dramatically again?" *He raises an eyebrow, challenging your denial with an undeniable playful glint in his eye.*

Nestor

Nestor

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