It was Sunday, and the São Paulo sky was clear and bright.
It was the typical December heat, the kind that sometimes cooks you, sometimes just scorches.
I was waiting for the group of friends at the table in front of me to decide what to order, but they seemed more interested in joking with each other than reading the menu.
They laughed loudly, scraped their chairs, pretended to argue over who would pay the bill.
I was already losing my patience, especially with the persistent flirty looks one of them kept throwing my way, which only fueled his friends' teasing.
I'd been working part-time at that restaurant since the start of the year.
I'd grown used to every kind of absurd request, people asking for juice "with no sugar and no fruit," couples fighting over deleted stories, tourists deciding the lake was too "Instagrammable" not to take a dip.
It wasn't the most exciting job in the world, but along with the others, it helped pay for my college materials and rent.
After two years since moving to this concrete jungle, I considered myself independent.
My parents should have been at ease. At least that's what I told myself whenever my bank balance started to cough.
"Miss," one of the boys at the table called, leaning over the menu. "What do you recommend for someone trying to impress a pretty girl? Like… you."
I looked at him, one eyebrow raised.
He must've been seventeen, maybe eighteen. Tanned face, cap turned backward, way too much confidence for someone who couldn't even meet my eyes without blushing.
"In your case?" I asked, pulling a pen from my pocket. "Silence. It goes well with any dish."
His friends laughed, and he fake-coughed before replying.
"Wow, rude. We were just joking."
"Then keep joking," I said, smiling at the corner of my mouth. "Just don't put me in the game."
"Whoa, she's feisty!" another one said, knocking his glass on the table. "Looks like you need someone to make you smile more."
He didn't look any older than the first.
"Maybe," I said. "But it won't be you."
Their laughter faded.
One of them, with the deeper voice, tried to play the comedian:
"Geez, are you on your period or what?"
I took a breath. Calm down, Helena, they're just kids.
"No, baby," I answered with syrupy sweetness. "I was just wondering what time to return you to your mother."
His friends burst out laughing, and he turned red, sinking into his chair.
Before things went too far, I heard footsteps behind me.
It was Gustavo, the manager.
His white shirt, sleeves rolled up, showed the muscle in his arms. Bronze skin and curly hair, no wonder so many customers kept coming back; he really was easy on the eyes.
He'd clearly been watching already, because his expression was all business.
"Everything alright here?" he asked, in a light tone.
"Perfect," I lied, slipping the pen back into my pocket.
"Sure it is," the boy muttered, half-embarrassed. "This one's… intense."
Gustavo gave a crooked smile.
"Helena usually is. It's her charm." He winked, trying to ease the mood.
I glanced at him, almost laughing. Gustavo was good at that, balancing situations without raising his voice.
We'd worked together for months, and he always seemed to look out for me more than he should.
While he chatted with the boys, I stood off to the side, watching it all play out.
I didn't want to wait on those kids anymore.
That's when I saw him.
Beyond the outdoor tables, the park opened into a sea of people.
It was packed. Families picnicking in the shade, children running, couples walking hand in hand.
And in the middle of it all. I saw him.
It took me a few seconds to be sure.
Because it was the dog that caught my eye first: a tricolor basset, with short, sleek fur—black, white, and brown.
He trotted steadily, tongue out, cheerful and stubborn, as if setting off on an adventure.
His long ears flapped, falling over sweet, slightly sad eyes.
His tail traced a lively curve in the air, and he barked in a tone almost melodic, as if announcing his happiness.
And his owner followed right behind.
I hadn't forgotten him, Caio.
It had been four days since I first saw him, and I'd thought of him every one of them.
He walked slowly, leash coiled in his hand, rough stubble on his face, a loose black T-shirt with no print.
Unlike the first time, he didn't look so thin.
Amazing what a hoodie can hide…
His arms were long and firm, biceps defined without being showy. Even with the baggy shirt, you could tell he was doing fine.
He seemed freer today and yet more tired.
Maybe the stubble made him look older.
Or maybe it was just the way the sunlight filtered through the leaves and drew lines across his face.
My heart stumbled out of rhythm.
I stopped paying attention to the boys and just stood there, order pad in hand, watching him.
I must have been staring too hard, because he seemed to feel it.
He looked in my direction and paused for a few beats, surprised to see me there.
He gave a small wave and crouched to pet the dog, who had flopped onto his back.
"Helena?" Gustavo's voice brought me back. He touched my shoulder and I nearly jumped.
"Huh?" I mumbled, spaced out.
"You too?" he asked, confused.
"Yes, yes. I'm fine," I answered too quickly.
He gave me a suspicious look, then added:
"The boys decided what they want. You can go take other tables."
I nodded, relieved. The boys were avoiding my eyes now.
I headed toward the inside of the restaurant, but kept looking out toward the park.
I was undecided.
Then I saw him stand up again and start walking, the dog trotting behind, ears bouncing.
A wild impulse took over.
I looked around and saw Amanda, my coworker, serving a nearby table.
I hurried over.
"Hey, Manda, cover me for a minute?" She gave me a dubious look.
"Helena… what are you about to do now?"
"I swear I'll be back in five!"
I didn't wait for an answer. I rushed to the park entrance.
He was no longer there.
I stood on tiptoe, searching.
Then I spotted him, a few yards ahead, walking unhurriedly.
I took a deep breath and went after him.
I approached slowly, trying to hide my nerves.
Only then did I realize I was still wearing the restaurant apron.
I smoothed the wrinkled fabric, a useless gesture, and kept going.
The dog noticed me first, wagging his tail, friendly, and sat as if he'd been waiting for me.
He, however, seemed elsewhere; he sighed and looked at the dog with a resigned expression.
"Hey," I called, once I was close enough to see the beads of sweat at his temple. "I know you."
He turned his face and looked straight at me.
For a moment, nothing.
He looked surprised.
He just looked at me and my heart skipped a beat.
Then he smiled, brief and polite.
"Swimming school, remember?" I added quickly, afraid he might pretend not to know me. "Trial lesson, Tuesday."
"Yes, I remember," he said. His voice was low and husky, and it felt like it flipped something inside me. "Yeah. That's right. Helena, isn't it?"
I smiled. He remembered.
My name sounded different coming from him.
Too soft.
But… I didn't remember telling him my name.
"I thought you wouldn't remember."
"It'd be kind of hard to forget," he said, amused. "Especially someone who stares that much."
I felt my face burn.
"I didn't stare," I lied, poorly.
I was probably as red as a tomato.
He gave a short laugh and bent to pet the dog, who began to circle me, curious.
"This is Amora," he said, as if not noticing my embarrassment. "This old lady seems to like you."
"She's beautiful," I said, kneeling and stroking her ears.
Amora rested her head on my legs and lay down, content, tail swishing. Every time I stopped petting her, she tried to lick my hands.
"She's affectionate. Unlike her owner."
He arched a brow.
"So you're bold outside the front desk, too."
I smiled, trying to hide my embarrassment.
"Only when I want to make friends."
He watched me in silence. Even when he smiled, there was a distance an invisible line he didn't seem willing to cross.
"Do you work here?" he asked.
"I do," I said, standing and straightening the black apron.
"So you're… a waitress for kids?"
He must've noticed the earlier crowd.
"And for lost tourists," I laughed. "On good days."
He laughed too, looking down, then kept walking, this time back toward the entrance.
The wind ruffled his hair, and the light stubble made him look more… real.
I must have looked ridiculous, because I was still staring when he stopped and looked at me:
"Are you on a break right now?"
I blushed. I couldn't say I'd run off just to see him.
"Something like that," I murmured, falling into step beside him.
He nodded. We were quiet for a while and it wasn't a bad quiet.
As we walked, I realized he had a kind of calm that pulled me in. He was the light, and I was the moth.
When we reached the entrance, he spoke without looking at me:
"I'm thirty-four, Helena."
It took me a second to understand why he'd said that out of nowhere.
"And…?"
"And you look about half that."
"Twenty-one," I corrected.
"Mm." His tone was even, nothing more.
And I understood.
He'd noticed. But I was being obvious; I'd be sadder if he hadn't.
"And what does that change?" I asked, almost a whisper.
He finally looked at me.
He opened his mouth like he'd say something, then shook his head and said:
"It changes everything."
We fell silent.
I felt a little disappointed.
Amora yawned, impatient, and tugged at the leash, as if to say human drama could wait.
I laughed, nervous.
"How did you spot me?" he asked after a moment.
"I wasn't following you, if that's what you're thinking," I joked. "The park is big, but the universe loves irony."
"I don't think you were," he said, amused. "But it was a pleasant coincidence."
He smiled, and I felt even more doomed.
I didn't know what to say. Maybe because, somehow, it sounded like hope.
He checked his watch, pulled Amora's leash gently, and looked at me one last time.
"I have to go."
"Of course," I said too quickly. "My break is pretty much over too."
"It was good seeing you, Helena."
"Good seeing you too."
He gave that same half-smile that made my heart stop.
As he walked away, I hesitated. I took a breath and called out:
"See you Tuesday, Caio!"
He stopped, turned his head, and smiled.
"See you Tuesday, Helena."
And then he was gone.
I stood there a while, watching as he disappeared.
Amora was now tugging the leash with new energy, and he followed with a faint smile.
"Hey, why are you smiling?" I heard a voice behind me.
I turned to see Amanda, arms crossed, eyebrows knit.
"Me? I'm not smiling."
"Yeah, you are. And you ran off mid-shift." She sighed, but a smile slipped out. "If Gustavo notices, I'll deny till the end, okay? But you owe me."
I smiled, guilty.
"Deal."
"And, Helena…" she stepped closer, amused. "Next time you sprint after a guy, take the apron off first."
She turned away laughing, and I stood there, blushing, but still smiling.