CHAPTER 5
1296 Words
Early the next morning, Andressa stirred awake—her body’s unforgivingly conditioned to the 5:30 a.m. alarm she’d been obeying for years. Even without the phone’s shrill chime, her eyes snapped open like clockwork. She blinked against the soft gold light slipping through half-closed curtains, disoriented for a heartbeat until the unfamiliar ceiling came into focus.
This was definitely not her room.
Then she saw him—Miguel—curled uncomfortably in the armchair, still fully dressed except for his shoes and loosened tie. His chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths, one arm flung over his face, the faint scent of his cologne (something warm, woody, expensive) still lingering in the air. Andressa’s pulse skittered. She checked herself quickly—no tangled sheets, no missing clothes, no tender ache between her thighs. Nothing. He had kept his word completely.
Relief flooded her, followed immediately by a sharp, irrational pang of disappointment she refused to name.
She couldn’t stay. Couldn’t risk the awkward morning-after dance, the polite smiles, the inevitable “we should do this again” that would never happen. She slipped from the bed as silently as possible, bare feet cool against the marble floor, snatched her phone from the dresser, and tiptoed to the door. The handle turned with the softest click. She pulled it shut behind her and exhaled only when the latch caught.
In the hallway the air felt ten degrees cooler. She pressed her back to the wall for a second, heart hammering. s**t, I feel disgusting in this dress. The silk that had felt glamorous last night now clung like damp tissue, smelling faintly of sea salt, rum, and Miguel’s cologne. She practically ran to the elevator.
While the floors descended, she dialed her mom.
“Hey, Mommy, good morning. How are you?”
“I’m fine, baby. I was just about to call you—I’ve already gone home. Come over whenever you’re ready, okay?”
“Oh yeah, perfect. I’ll freshen up and head straight there. Love you, bye.”
She hung up and stared at her reflection in the elevator’s mirrored walls—mascara smudged, hair wild, lips still slightly swollen from laughing so hard the night before. A beautiful night with a stranger. The thought made her stomach flip in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.
She refused to let herself linger on it.
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By Monday morning she was back in São Paulo, small suitcase in one hand, laptop bag in the other, the familiar smell of jet fuel and city exhaust hitting her like a hug and a slap at the same time. Her mom had waved from the foyer with teary eyes, pressing a Tupperware of still-warm cheese bread into her hands as the taxi pulled away.
Ann stood at arrivals holding a neon-pink sign that screamed ANDRESSA in massive bold letters, complete with glitter hearts. Andressa burst out laughing the second she saw it.
“Really, Ann?”
“What? Efficiency, babe.” Ann grinned, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. “Welcome home, gorgeous.”
“Where’s Ify?”
“Guarding the car like a dragon. Parking here is the devil.”
They found Ify leaning against the SUV, arms crossed, sunglasses on like a celebrity avoiding paparazzi. The moment she spotted Andressa, she launched herself forward and squeezed her tight enough to c***k a rib.
“We missed your dramatic ass,” Ify murmured into her hair.
“I missed you heathens too. Now please take me home. I need my bed and silence.”
Half an hour later they tumbled into her apartment, the familiar scent of sandalwood candles and vanilla diffuser wrapping around her like a blanket. Andressa dropped her bags, kicked off her shoes, and face-planted onto the couch with a groan that came from her soul.
“Oh São Paulo, I have missed you and this apartment,” she moaned into the cushion.
Ify raised a brow. “You sure? Because you’re glowing like you got properly railed the entire weekend.”
Ann’s eyes narrowed instantly. “Something’s different. I just can’t place it yet.”
Andressa rolled her eyes, but heat crawled up her neck.
“So how was the ‘wedding’?” Ann asked, complete with air quotes.
“Beautiful. Camilla looked unreal. Everyone cried. The usual.”
Ann stared. “And?”
“And what?”
“Essa,” Ann said in a singsong warning tone.
Andressa felt her cheeks betray her. She tried to fight the smile and failed miserably.
Ann gasped theatrically. “I know that smile. That’s the ‘I met someone and I’m pretending I’m chill about it’ smile. Same one you had with Davis, Hassan, Tim, Marcel—”
“Okay, okay, Jesus!” Andressa covered her face with a pillow.
Ify practically vibrated. “Spill. Height, age, blood type, genotype, baby mamas, net worth—”
“We are not doing a full background check,” Andressa laughed, but her voice came out breathy, nervous.
Ann’s eyes gleamed. “We absolutely are. Socials. Now.”
“He doesn’t have any.”
Both friends froze.
Ify blinked. “Come again?”
“He’s not on social media. Like… at all.”
Ann looked personally offended. “That’s either extremely hot or extremely serial killer.”
Andressa bit her lip. “His name is Miguel. I met him at the wedding. He bought me a drink when I was hiding on the beach. We talked until stupid o’clock, went back to his room, watched a movie, laughed until we cried, and… fell asleep. That’s it.”
The silence was deafening.
Ify: “Define ‘that’s it.’”
“I mean it. Fully clothed. He slept in the armchair. Nothing happened.”
Ann clutched her chest. “You’re telling me a man who looks like that spent the night with you and didn’t even try to cop a feel?”
Andressa’s blush deepened. “He said he was going to marry me one day. Dead serious. Then didn’t lay a finger on me.”
Ify whispered, “Marry you?”
Ann screamed, “MARRY YOU?!”
“Keep your voices down, the neighbors will think I’m being murdered!”
Ann grabbed her shoulders. “Phone number. Now.”
Andressa shook her head slowly. “I don’t have it. He doesn’t have mine.”
Ify looked like she might faint. “You met the man you’re supposed to marry and didn’t get his number?”
“He lives in Bahia. His whole life is there—business, family, everything. I live here. It was… one perfect night. That’s all it’s allowed to be.”
Ann stared at her for a long moment, then flopped onto the couch beside her. “You’re glowing so bright it’s offensive.”
Ify sat on her other side, resting her head on Andressa’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you for not sleeping with him, but also low-key devastated you didn’t sleep with him.”
Andressa laughed, the sound a little watery. “I know.”
Ann poked her side. “Are you sure you’re okay with letting him go?”
The question hung in the air. Andressa stared at the ceiling, feeling the memory of warm brown eyes and a low, certain voice saying I’m going to marry you one day like a brand against her skin.
“Yeah,” she lied softly. “I’m sure.”
Her stomach growled loudly, betraying her.
Ify snorted. “Liar. And also hungry. Get your ass up, woman. We’re ordering food.”
Andressa groaned but let them pull her toward the kitchen, the weight of Miguel’s name still quiet and warm in her chest like a secret she wasn’t quite ready to let go of.
- Writer
