Clearing the Air

Clearing the Air
Júlia

When the workday ended and I was heading toward the building’s exit, the moment I turned the corner toward the chrome elevators, my heart gave a small, annoying jolt. There he was. Not exactly a surprise — but still frustrating.

Henrique was leaning casually against the wall paneled in dark wood, just a few steps from the elevator doors. He wasn’t just standing there; he was posing — like an off-duty model. Perfectly tailored charcoal suit, tie loosened just enough, exuding an air of effortless confidence. He was watching me with a smile that looked like it had been rehearsed in front of a mirror: wide, white, and full of self-satisfaction.

I slowed my pace, putting on my mental armor.
“I was waiting for you,” he said, his voice smooth and velvety — the kind of tone people expect from a charming young CEO.

I didn’t stop. My eyes stayed fixed on the digital floor indicator, watching the number nine descend slowly.
“If you’re here to offer me a ride, don’t bother,” I replied coolly, keeping my tone as flat as possible. I didn’t want to feed his ego — not even with irritation.

He chuckled under his breath, the sound dripping with self-assurance.
“You’d rather take the bus? In rush hour traffic?” he teased, his tone dangerously close to provocation.
“Exactly. I prefer the human warmth of the Central Station to your persistence.” I kept my voice steady, though inside, I was exhausted.

The elevator arrived with a soft ding. We stepped in together.
He pressed the button for the Lobby — and then, the one for Basement Level 2. At least he had the decency to behave. Leaning against the opposite wall, hands in his pockets, he studied me through the mirrored wall.
“You still have a few seconds to change your mind, Júlia. I’ve got a great playlist,” he said lightly.
“It’s not going to happen, Henrique. But thank you for your eternal kindness,” I cut in, fixing my eyes on my reflection to avoid his.

He rolled his eyes dramatically.
“I feel like Ricardo right now,” he muttered, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips.

“What do you mean?” I asked, frowning despite myself.
“Chasing after someone who’s clearly not interested. Ricardo’s the guy who insists on watching the romantic movie when the girl already said she wants action.”

The analogy was so unexpected that, for a second, the stiffness in my chest eased. I even felt a little guilty for my sharpness.

The elevator stopped at the Lobby. The doors opened, revealing the bright entrance hall.
I didn’t get out.

I stood still, watching the doors until they slid shut again, and the elevator continued its descent. I would ride with him to the car. Henrique didn’t say another word — just gave me a look of quiet triumph.

We reached Basement Level 2, a cold, dimly lit maze of concrete. He led me to his white Porsche 911, which gleamed under the LED lights, looking completely out of place among the mundane cars. When he opened the door for me — a gesture both old-fashioned and oddly charming — I realized that, despite his persistence and infuriating vanity, there was something genuinely disarming about him.

I got in. Not out of weakness, but with a firm, clear purpose.
“I accepted the ride because I think we need to clear some things up — now that I’m working for your company,” I said, closing the door with a solid click.

He shifted into reverse, maneuvering smoothly out of the parking spot.
“Alright,” he said, turning his head slightly to glance at me before heading up the ramp. His brow was furrowed, genuinely curious. “What kind of things?”
“I want you to understand that between us…” I gestured with my hands between our seats. “There’s nothing happening. You’re fun, kind, and yes — handsome. But there’s no chemistry. At least, not from my side.”

He gave a half-smirk — not cruel, just amused — eyes still on the busy street ahead.
“Mind if I disagree?”
“You can,” I said gently, my tone softer now that everything was on the table. “But it won’t change anything. I think we could be friends. It would be nice if you stopped insisting — it’ll just make things awkward at work.”

His jaw tightened. He stayed silent for several seconds, the only sound the deep, steady purr of the engine. I could feel him thinking it over — and that, oddly, made me respect him more.
“It’s a shame you’re wasting an opportunity like this, Júlia,” he said with a theatrically exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. “But fine, not everyone knows how to appreciate what’s good.”

I couldn’t help it — I burst out laughing. A light, genuine laugh that caught me off guard. His confidence really had no limits.
“Exactly!” I said, shaking my head, amused. The tension dissolved, replaced by a strange, easy camaraderie.

He pulled up in front of my building and turned off the engine. Then he turned toward me, leaning slightly.
“I still like you, Júlia,” he said, his voice suddenly lower, more sincere — stripped of its usual irony. “Even after the only rejection of my life. Congratulations, you’ve made history.”

I shook my head, smiling — truly smiling this time.
“Good night, Henrique,” I said, opening the door and stepping out into the cool night air.

As I walked toward the building, I felt lighter than I had in a long time. I had a good job, I was finally rebuilding my life, and I’d managed to end a story before it could even begin. It felt like a small, satisfying victory.

But no matter how hard I tried to stay focused, one image kept replaying in my mind: Ricardo’s intense eyes and the kiss that still stole my breath away. That kiss that, deep down, I knew wouldn’t be the last.

Even so, despite my restless heart, I had already decided: I wasn’t going to accept his offer for a serious relationship.
Yet, when the clock struck eight and Ricardo still hadn’t texted or called, I realized I wouldn’t be able to sleep with that question hammering in my head. So, I decided to do what he had done the day before — return the visit.

Since I didn’t have night classes, I texted Angel, asking for his address. Naturally, she was curious and wanted to know why, but I promised to explain everything later.

I didn’t dress up to go there. I put on comfortable jeans, a simple blouse, and tied my hair in a ponytail. I wasn’t going to impress him — just to talk.

I got off at the nearest bus stop and walked quite a distance to his building. The neighborhood was upscale — wide, quiet, tree-lined streets. Ricardo didn’t need public transportation, which explained the lack of bus stops nearby.

When I arrived, I took in the sight of the sleek, modern building — all glass façade and a lobby that looked more like a five-star hotel reception.

Unlike when Ricardo had shown up at my apartment the day before, the doorman called to announce me, and Ricardo immediately authorized my entry.

When the door opened and he appeared in front of me, my stomach clenched.

Ricardo was wearing pajamas. Blue flannel pants and a white T-shirt, his hair slightly tousled, a lazy smile playing on his lips. And yet — or maybe because of that — he looked unbearably attractive.

“Hey, Júlia,” he greeted, opening the door and motioning for me to come in.

His voice was calm, but his eyes… his eyes roamed over me, saying everything words didn’t need to. Suddenly, I felt small in that elegant apartment — too simple, out of place.
“Hi, Ricardo,” I replied, trying to hide my nerves. “I... thought it would be better to talk in person.”

He nodded and let me in. The apartment was spacious, bright, tastefully decorated — sophistication in every corner, just like him. And for some reason, I couldn’t stop talking. The words came tumbling out, tangled between anxiety and shyness.

“I know I should’ve waited for you to call, but I don’t like leaving things unresolved, and…”