In Before Sunrise, two strangers meet by chance on a train journey.

   Two people travelling along different and distinct paths end up sharing a fragment of that journey, even though the destinations they had originally intended to reach were not the same.

   Jesse had his plans set in Vienna, whilst Céline was making her way to Paris. Yet the encounter between them gave rise to something that, in my opinion, can become far stronger than an initially sexual attraction or anything of the sort.

   The curiosity awakened in both of them led them to alter the course of their own destinies and, together, choose to listen to the improvisation life was offering them as an alternative.

   Follow the familiar and carefully planned route, or venture into something new that carried with it a sense of freedom in the face of one's own life?

   Jesse and Céline chose to step into the unknown, allowing themselves the opportunity to be surprised by how fate might respond to choices driven solely by curiosity about where it could lead them — or whether it would lead anywhere at all.

   The moment Pedro asked what sort of dinner I was proposing, my first thought was that he meant the kind of food. It was only after his second message that I realised I'd misunderstood. I rang Sofya immediately to see what she thought, because it might have simply been wishful thinking on my part. I thought perhaps he wanted something that, up until then, I hadn't realised I might want as well.

   Sofya merely confirmed my suspicions.

   I did as Sof suggested and asked Pedro what sort of dinner he wanted, and when he asked what his options were, I had no idea what to say.

   It took me quite some time to decide whether I should give whatever might happen between us a chance, and that's when Before Sunrise flashed through my mind like a brief déjà vu.

   I didn't want to lose his friendship.

   I considered Pedro a genuinely good bloke — friendly, charismatic, with a personality that was both admirable and slightly questionable at the same time, which only made me more intrigued to get to know him better.

   Eventually, I came to the conclusion that I truly was willing to see if there could be something between us.

   Was I overreacting?

   Perhaps.

   It had been such a long time since I'd been attracted to anyone that I hadn't even realised I was attracted to him. I knew perfectly well what my sexuality was, and I had no issue accepting it. After all, if I had a problem with it, how could I ever be myself?

   In truth, the only thing that made me hesitant about my sexuality was knowing just how badly things could go wrong. I suppose that's why giving Pedro a chance meant so much to me.

   I never saw the need to publicly announce my sexuality the way so many people wanted me to. It wouldn't change anything. I already knew who I was.

  But what about Pedro?

   I flirted with him with absolutely no shame, and I couldn't help worrying that I'd completely misunderstood the situation. On the other hand, I was relieved to discover I wasn't losing my mind.

   Still...

   What if Pedro were straight?

  I laugh every single time I remember that, in all my paranoia, I once thought Pedro — Peh, of all people — was straight.

   I have to admit, I liked how naturally this side of me came out around him. It wasn't forced the way it had been when I went out with Sof's friend so she could get closer to her friend's brother.

   That, I regretted deeply.

   Not only because I didn't like her friend in the slightest, but also because Sofya's ex was the sort of bloke who simply wasn't worth a damn.

   And when I say that, I mean I'd rather choose a cockroach over him.

   "Okay... what do I do now?" I asked Sof after telling her about the madness I'd willingly thrown myself into.

   Obviously, I'd gone out with people before. I wasn't some saint.

   Even so, this would be the first time I'd gone out with someone outside my circle of friends — someone who challenged the very ways I usually felt safe investing in a date.

   I had no idea whether I should make an effort or simply go as I was, wearing joggers and a cream T-shirt. Should I shave?

   "Have a shower, David," Sofya said with a laugh through the phone screen. Her voice always sounded oddly robotic during video calls.

   "Another one? I had one less than two hours ago," I protested whilst watching her eat something in her sitting room.

   "Stop being lazy and go have a shower. If you're going on a date, you're meant to look presentable. Make a good impression."

   "Should I shave?"

   

   "No!" she threatened, pointing her fork at me. "Don't commit that crime."

   "If you shave it off, David, I'll kill you when you get back."

Right.

   Have a shower, shave — she'd murder me later, but I didn't particularly care at that moment — and get dressed.

   What should I wear?

   I showered, spent several minutes choosing an outfit, put on my aftershave, sorted my hair, and slipped on my trainers.

   I kept the beard.

   I had the razor in my hand when I pictured Sof using it to beat me senseless if I actually got rid of it.

   I simply trimmed it down and made it look neater.

When I stepped out of my room, I felt confident, as though I possessed every ounce of confidence in the world.

   Yet the moment I arrived outside Pedro's door, all that confidence dissolved into insecurity.

I wasn't sure whether I'd dressed well enough. I was wearing beige trousers and a navy jumper.

   Even dressed up, I had the impression my hair looked a mess.

   As I waited for Pedro to answer the door, I forced myself to forget every trace of insecurity that made me doubt myself.

   Pedro opened the door, and everything changed.

   My nerves vanished, replaced by calm.

   I took a slow breath, trying to hide my expression of surprise.

   Pedro genuinely looked beautiful.

   Not in a bloody hell, he looks like a model sort of way — although he probably could pursue that career if he wanted to — but in a How on earth have I never noticed how handsome he is? sort of way.

  "Blimey," I blurted out.

  His cheeks immediately flushed, tinting his face pink.

   "Do I really look that awful?" he asked cautiously.

   "No, no... You look... incredible."

   The blush spread further across his cheeks, whilst the yellow corridor lights seemed to glimmer in his eyes, which appeared a dark shade of brown.

   His perfume was subtler than usual, yet somehow far more captivating, and that familiar sensation of butterflies in my stomach drew an involuntary smile from me.

   What on earth was happening?

  Hadn't I noticed these things before...

   Or had I?

   "Come on," Pedro said, stepping forward and closing the door behind him. "Before I lose my nerve," he added under his breath, seemingly to himself.

   What did he mean by that?

   I didn't dwell on it.

  I simply walked beside him towards the lift, where he hesitated briefly before stepping inside.

   Using the mirror in the lift, I was able to confirm that Pedro truly looked perfect just as he was.

   His curls were broad enough to give the impression that his hair was wavy, whilst his finer features and slightly rounded chin drew attention to his cheeks.

   Pedro was attractive in every conceivable way.

   From his dark, well-defined eyebrows to lips that appeared to be moisturised by something magical that made me wonder what they tasted like.

   The lift stopped on the fifth floor, and a couple entered with two children, leaving Pedro standing on the opposite side.

   Even though it only lasted a few seconds, the distance was unsettling.

   By the time we reached the ground floor, the short walk through the lobby and the long corridor leading to the hotel's restaurant seemed to pass in the blink of an eye.

   Fortunately, I'd already booked us a table.

   Otherwise, we wouldn't have found a place, as the restaurant was packed.

   The receptionist led us to a table near the back, close to the open section overlooking the garden, where a light drizzle was falling outside.

   "Are you alright?" I asked Pedro once we'd sat down.

   His hand was trembling. His breathing was uneven.

   "M-Me? Of course. Everything's fine."

   He didn't seem fine.

    Then again, I couldn't exactly judge him, because I wasn't much different.

   It had been a very long time since I'd gone out with another bloke with the intention of kissing him.

   I could go ages without being interested in anyone, but when I was interested...

   I couldn't stop thinking about the possibilities.

   "Do you know what you'd like?" I asked, forcing myself away from those thoughts. "I was thinking of trying something a bit more Brazilian. Any recommendations?"

   He studied the menu, glancing between it and me.

   Pedro smiled as he set it back on the table and raised a hand to call the waiter over.

   "Brace yourself," he said, his smile shifting into a small grin. "Tonight you're having dinner like a proper Brazilian."

  The waiter approached our table, and Pedro spoke to him in Portuguese for a while, leaving me with absolutely no idea what he was ordering for us.

   As the waiter typed everything into the tablet in his hands, I couldn't stop noticing Pedro's eyes.

   Focus, David... I told myself.

   The way his lips moved was making me nervous.

   I hadn't realised how often I'd been staring at his mouth until I consciously became aware of it.

   I considered changing seats, though the cold wasn't bothering me very much, and apparently it wasn't bothering Pedro either.

   Or perhaps it was.

   I didn't know.

   Internally, I was so nervous that I briefly thought we ought to leave the hotel altogether and go somewhere else.

   "Right," I said after several seconds of silence had settled between us once the waiter had left. "This is a bit strange... What do you do when you're not at the hotel?" I asked. "You said you don't live here, but do you actually live in the city?"

   "Yeah, not very far from here. My dad thought it would be best if we lived nearby in case something urgent ever came up."

   "You seem to know everyone here. I imagine you spend a lot of time at the hotel."

   "The hotel belonged to my godfather, so half my childhood holidays were spent here with him. Unfortunately, my godfather passed away a few years ago, and the hotel ended up going to my dad, so I've basically spent a good part of my life within these walls."

   Although he tried not to show it, Pedro's sadness at mentioning his godfather was obvious.

   "I'm sorry. I didn't realise it was a sensitive subject."

   Pedro lifted the corner of his mouth in a brief closed-lip smile.

   "Don't worry. I don't mind talking about it. I think after a while, you sort of learn how to live with missing someone."

   "Yeah... I understand."

   I let the sentence die there.

   I didn't want to make Pedro uncomfortable.

   "When's your birthday?"

   Pedro laughed.

   "Bit of a random question, but the twenty-first of September."

   "Seriously?"

  It was much closer than I'd expected.

   I could've sworn Pedro's birthday would fall somewhere around May. For some reason, he'd always given me Taurus energy.

   I'm not one of those zodiac lunatics...

   The waiter returned with a trolley and, within moments, placed two plates and two glasses of juice in front of us.

   Grape juice for me. I think orange juice for Pedro.

   On my plate there was rice with sweetcorn, grated carrot, and other seasonings whose names I hadn't a clue about.

   The dish itself was wonderfully colourful. That slightly yellow hue and the delicate aroma of saffron blended with the delicious scent of beans and breaded chicken fillet. There was also sautéed courgette and shredded kale. The combination of smells and the sight of it all made my mouth water.

   "This smells even better than that feijoada they made me try when we arrived," I commented.

   "Don't you dare insult feijoada, Connor."

   Connor?

   I thought.

   "I'm not insulting it. It's just that... this looks incredible."

   "Go on. I guarantee it tastes even better."

   I picked up my knife and fork, cut into the chicken, and took a bite.

    The succulence created by the spices sent my taste buds into an absolute gastronomic orgasm from the very first mouthful.

   Eager for more, I copied Pedro's example, adding a bit of beans, rice, and kale.

   "fuck," was all I managed to say after a few more bites. "This is ridiculously good."

   Pedro's smile radiated pure satisfaction at my genuine happiness over eating something so delicious.

   "Told you you'd like it."

   Like it was an understatement.

   I loved it.

   Even though I forced myself to savour each bite politely, all I really wanted was to devour the entire thing as quickly as possible and ask for seconds.

   To hell with my diet.

   I could eat this every single day without getting tired of it. If you're reading this, Jack, I'm joking...

   If I happened to die that very moment, I'd have gone happily, knowing I'd only departed after tasting something this extraordinary. And I wasn't even thinking about Pedro.

Pedro's going to kill me when he sees that joke, but it was worth it, wasn't it?