Plans and Pizza

Plans and Pizza
Ricardo

I walked toward her slowly, savoring the sight before me. Júlia was standing by the window, her back to me, looking out at the street. The dim light of the living room outlined her figure. I approached silently.

I placed one hand on her waist. The thin fabric of her blouse was the only barrier between my palm and her soft skin. My other hand immediately got lost in her long, thick curls—a cascade of dark strands that fell halfway down her back. The scent of floral shampoo and her perfume intoxicated me.

I brushed aside the strands covering the side of her neck, exposing its delicate curve. Without rushing, I pressed my lips to that sensitive spot, her skin warm and alive. I felt her breath catch and a shiver run through her body under my touch. That was all the signal I needed.

At that moment, reason spoke louder than fear of rejection. I didn’t need everything to be ideal. I just wanted to change the course of my life, to break free from stagnation—and having even a piece of her seemed like the only right place to start.

“I accept what you’re proposing,” I murmured, my voice hoarse between kisses.

I trailed my lips from the curve of her neck to her ear, where I caught her soft earlobe between my teeth and sucked gently, sending a shiver down her spine.

Her body relaxed completely, as if an invisible tension had just snapped. Her eyes half-closed, heavy with surrender. I was about to turn her around—to make her face the intensity of my desire—when the sharp sound of the doorbell cut through the air.

I let out a loud, frustrated sigh. Of course it was the pizza. The universe wasn’t about to make my job easy.

I pressed a quick, noisy kiss to her cheek—a promise that we’d get back to that point—and went to answer the door.

With dinner in hand, I invited her to the kitchen.

She hesitated for a moment, still looking slightly annoyed, but eventually followed me.

We sat across from each other at the wooden table, and little by little, the charged atmosphere melted into something lighter. I opened the steaming box.

“How was your first day at the construction company?” I asked, keeping my tone as neutral as possible.

Júlia’s eyes lit up immediately. She gestured animatedly with her fork as she described every detail. She talked about Esmeralda, Fabíola, the Engineering department… and then, in a playful tone, she mentioned Henrique.

“He showed up there three times this afternoon alone. It looked like he was personally supervising everything.”

The mention of my cousin made my jaw tighten. I didn’t like hearing that—not one bit. A sharp sting of jealousy hit me, which I tried to swallow down with a bite of pizza.

I stayed silent. In the end, I was the last one to step into this story. I knew Henrique wouldn’t be happy if he found out what was happening between me and Júlia—and it wasn’t fair to him—but...

I wasn’t willing to give her up.

Júlia might think what we had was just “casual” or “friends with benefits,” but I had other plans. Unlike Alicia, Júlia returned what I felt—the attraction, the intensity, the comfort. That changed everything. I wanted this time to be different, to be my real chance to move on.

“Is Cecília home?” I asked casually, shifting in my chair to disguise my real interest: I wanted to know if the apartment would be empty.

“Haven’t seen her since Saturday,” she replied, setting her fork down and taking our empty plates to the sink. The sound of running water filled the kitchen.

“I could play the gentleman and say I’ll do the dishes myself, but… thanks for taking the lead,” I joked, still sitting. “I like to cook, but I hate doing dishes.”

She laughed softly, the sound light and pleasant.

“Well, I love washing dishes but hate cooking.”

“Perfect.” I stood up, smiling, and walked toward her, eyes locked on hers. I decided to push my luck a little—to test her reaction. “Guess we can get married, then.”

She froze for a second, hands still over the soapy sponge. Her body tensed—but then she relaxed, realizing my tone was playful. She turned to me and shook her head, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“You’re full of jokes, Ricardo.”

I stepped closer, taking her still-damp hand and gently pulling her toward the living room.

“We could take advantage of the fact that you don’t want to go back to that empty apartment,” I whispered, brushing the side of my hand against hers. “Watch a movie together. Then fall asleep cuddled up, just like we did in Brotas.”

I sat on the couch and pulled her softly onto my lap. She fit perfectly.

“That won’t be possible,” she murmured, her voice low, though the refusal lacked conviction.

She was pressed against me, her soft arms around my neck, her chin resting on my shoulder. She lay back on the couch, and I followed, leaning over her. Her gaze, up close, was a dangerous mix of desire and caution.

“Why not?” I asked, brushing my lips against hers, feeling her warmth.

“Because I work tomorrow, and I can’t be late. Especially not on my second day.”

“I agree,” I whispered before sealing her mouth with mine.

The kiss started soft, a test, but quickly turned hungry, urgent. I found her tongue, explored her mouth with a desire I could barely contain. My heart pounded against her chest, fast and wild. She matched my intensity, her hands pulling me closer by the back of my neck, sending a shiver through me.

When I finally pulled back, breathless, I just smiled, pressing my forehead to hers, feeling her warm breath on my face.

“Don’t worry,” I said with a look of absolute complicity. “You’ll make it on time tomorrow.”

I’d make sure of it myself, just like I would make sure I got there on time too. After all, we’d be going to the construction company together the next morning.

My plan for her future had already begun.