It was a refreshing summer night, and Vinícius found himself doing another odd job to pay off overdue bills. Last month, he had lost his job and decided to put his plan of becoming a successful writer into action. But for now, that plan was more of a dream, and dreams don't put food on the table.
This time, he was working as a valet at the Silverstone family's party. He wanted to save as much of his earnings as possible, and thanks to Viola, his childhood friend, this was possible.
— You seem pretty relaxed, don't you? — said Viola with a smile as she descended the marble stairs.
Dressed in a short black dress that hugged her body, Viola wasn't just beautiful, but sexy in a way that almost made Vinícius spill his hidden feelings right then and there.
— What are you doing out here, Viola? — Vinícius asked, snapping back to reality.
— I can't stand those old lechers in there anymore — she replied, pulling a pack of cigarettes from her purse and lighting one with its gold-tipped filter. She took a deep, long drag and, with a relieved sigh, blew out the smoke. — I needed this. Want one?
— No. I'm trying to quit.
— I heard writers smoke a lot...
— I plan to enjoy the money I'll make if I ever become successful. For that, cigarettes have to be excluded from the equation.
Viola smiled. Her friend's dream and her own dream were things that seemed unlikely to come true. She had already written dozens, maybe hundreds of scripts, but none had panned out. But that didn't mean she would give up.
— I also plan to live long enough to spend all the money I'll make from my first screenplay. But I don't have the ambition to die old.
Vinícius laughed, though he knew there was a hint of seriousness in her joke. Life was tough for dreamers, especially when the world seemed to conspire against their aspirations.
— You'll make it, Viola. You're too talented not to.
She smiled again, a sad smile he knew well.
— Thank you, Vini. And so will you. One day, our names will be in the end credits of a film. I better get back inside before they notice I've been gone too long.
As Viola walked away, Vinícius stayed, gazing at the stars in the sky. They seemed so distant, almost unreachable, yet they shone with an intensity that made his eyes burn with hope.
Suddenly, as Vinícius dreamed of the stars, the radio on his belt pulled him back to reality, announcing the arrival of new guests.
When the black limousine stopped, Vinícius approached to open the door, helping a beautiful woman with wavy hair as dark as the night step out of the car.
— For a middle-aged woman, she is very beautiful... — Vinícius thought. But when the second woman stepped out, he was completely mesmerized.
Dressed in a short, loose red dress, with eyes as blue as the violets blooming in the gardens, hair as dark as the night itself, and skin as pale as moonlight, she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.
— Good evening — she said, with a smile that seemed to brighten the night even more. Vinícius could barely respond, captivated by her stunning beauty.
— Good evening — he finally managed, trying to keep his composure. — Enjoy the party.
As they walked away, he couldn't shake a strong sense of déjà vu. He bit his lower lip, as he always did when trying to remember something, and as he closed the car door, the image came to his mind.
A black-and-white photograph on the back cover of his favorite book. It was an old photo, but he was certain the woman in the red dress was the same one.
Vinícius turned back to the stairs, wondering if his memory was playing tricks on him.
— Excuse me?
Hearing the valet's voice, the women turned around. Vinícius's heart was pounding in his chest, and his hand was sweaty.
— The lady in red. You are S.S. Valentine, aren't you? The author of "Sword, Crown, and Heart."
The woman stopped and looked directly at him, a slight smile dancing on her lips. She seemed intrigued, but not surprised.
— Yes, I am — she replied, with a soft, husky voice that made Vinícius's heart race even more.
Vinícius took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts.
— I... I am a huge fan of your work. I never imagined I would meet you while working, but could you answer a question of mine?
The woman raised an eyebrow with curiosity as her smile deepened, forming dimples on her cheeks.
— Of course, ask away — she said, tilting her head slightly.
— I dream of becoming a renowned writer like you. How can I make my story reach the level yours has?
The woman looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. She had done nothing but write and achieve success, and she began to wonder what advice she could give to satisfy the young man.
— Vinícius, writing is a solitary and often thankless journey, but deeply rewarding. I'll give you some advice that I believe was fundamental for me.
She paused briefly, looking directly into Vinícius's eyes.
— First, write with passion. Don't write just to please others or to achieve success. Write because you have something to say, something burning inside you that needs to come out. If your writing comes from the heart, it will resonate with people.
Vinícius nodded, absorbing every word.
— Second, read a lot. Read everything, especially outside your comfort zone. This will broaden your horizon and enrich your writing. Every book is a lesson, and every author, a teacher.
She smiled, her dimples appearing once more.
— Third, persist. The path to success is paved with rejections and failures. You will hear many "no's", but don't let that discourage you. Each "no" is an opportunity to improve, to grow. And eventually, you will hear a "yes" that will change everything.
Vinícius felt a mix of hope and determination growing inside him. He knew the journey would be difficult, but S.S. Valentine's words echoed in his heart as a reminder that it was worth fighting for.
— Thank you, Miss Valentine. Your words mean a lot to me.
The woman nodded affirmatively and ascended the stairs until reaching the door, disappearing into the glow of the party happening inside the mansion.
Vinícius felt that everything was going well and he was eager to share this experience with Viola, in fact, he wanted to share this moment with the love of his life, but he didn't have the courage yet.
— When I release my first book, I will tell you everything I feel, Viola — he promised, looking at the sparkling stars in the dark sky.
A few minutes later, on the side balcony of the mansion, Viola, tired of the hustle and bustle inside the party and the harassment from guests while trying to interview them for her journalistic website, sought a moment of peace on the side balcony of the mansion. Her fingers trembled as she searched for her pack of cigarettes in her purse. The night was quiet, illuminated only by the shimmering stars and the faint moonlight. She lit a cigarette and took a long drag, allowing herself to be enveloped by the momentary relief the cigarette provided.
— Difficult night? — Viola turned startled at the voice. Sitting behind her on a twisted iron chair was a woman with blue eyes and dressed in red, whose lips displayed a small smile. She seemed to have a serene yet intriguing presence.
— Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you — the woman continued, maintaining her gentle smile. Her blue eyes seemed to reflect the starlight above them.
Viola tried to regain her composure, still surprised by the woman's sudden appearance.
— Yes, a bit... The party is quite lively inside — Viola replied, taking a drag of her cigarette and feeling somewhat uncomfortable under the woman's attentive gaze.
The woman nodded slightly, as if understanding.
— Come, sit down and rest for a bit. My name is Sarah.
Viola hesitated for a moment, assessing Sarah's strange kindness, whose smile remained calm and welcoming.
The night seemed to take an unexpected turn, momentarily pulling her away from the hustle and bustle of work and the harassment of drunken men, which was very welcome, but she had to work.
— I'm Viola, and thank you for the invitation, Sarah, but I have to get back to work — Viola said, putting out the cigarette on the sole of her shoe and putting it back in the pack.
— I insist. They won't miss you — Sarah replied.
Viola hesitated for a moment, looking alternately at Sarah, the empty chair beside her, and the crowded hall of guests. The night was bustling and tense, but Sarah's invitation seemed like an invitation to a moment of calm amidst the chaos.
With a sigh, Viola decided to relent. She walked over to the twisted iron chair and sat down, feeling the cold texture of the metal against her skin. Sarah smiled gently, and Viola felt a wave of relief that until now only the cigarette had provided.
— Thank you, Sarah. It's a bit crazy in there — Viola commented, giving a timid smile.
Sarah nodded, seeming to completely agree with Viola.
— I detest crowds too.
— So why did you come to a party?
— This party is for me. No matter what I do, they want to celebrate.
— This party is for you? — Viola stared at Sarah in surprise. — So you're Sarah Silverstone Valentine?!
Sarah chuckled softly, her blue eyes shining under the starlight.
— Yes, that's me. But please, don't make a scene. I prefer to keep a low profile when possible.
Viola blinked, trying to process the information. She knew Sarah Silverstone Valentine was a renowned author, but she never imagined she would encounter her as someone so young.
— I can't believe it! I'm a huge fan of your work. "Sword, Crown, and Heart" is one of my favorite books of all time. I've read every page multiple times!
Sarah smiled, genuinely touched by Viola's words.
— Thank you, Viola. It means a lot to me to hear that.
They fell silent for a moment, simply absorbing the serenity of the night. Viola felt at ease beside Sarah, as if she were talking to a longtime friend.
— And what about you, Viola? What brings you here tonight besides escaping from "dirty old men"? — Sarah asked curiously, breaking the silence.
Viola chuckled softly, grateful for the change of subject.
— I work as a barista. It's a temporary job while I try to push my scripts forward. I'm trying to save up money to fulfill my big dream.
— Writing scripts? That's wonderful! You must have incredible stories to tell.
Viola nodded, a glint of enthusiasm in her eyes.
— I hope so. It's a tough world, but I can't see myself doing anything else.
Sarah looked at Viola with admiration, and they continued talking, unaware of time passing. In a mysterious way, they bonded as if it were a reunion of old friends. But there was something more that sparked between them, and while the party unfolded in the hall, they talked extensively, trying to get to know each other.
In this conversation, Viola had much more to share than Sarah. Sarah had been born into a wealthy family and had started writing novels as a way to pass the time when she herself had no romantic experience and loved long hours of silence while also loving classic rock.
Viola, on the other hand, was born into a middle-class family and was kicked out of her home at sixteen when she told her parents she was bisexual. Since then, she has been struggling to achieve her dreams, working while studying and even living in cheap hotels for months.
As the party neared its end, Sarah and Viola found themselves holding hands. Initially, it was Sarah trying to comfort Viola upon hearing her story. But even as the conversation turned to lighter topics, their hands remained intertwined.
Now, their faces were close, lips slightly parted in uneven breaths. Sarah's perfume and Viola's cigarette smoke mingled in a dizzying, captivating dance. They gazed into each other's eyes, uncertain of what to do next.
— The party is ending — Sarah whispered.
— Yes, I know. What do you want to do?
— I have to go home...
The words hung in the air between them, charged with electrifying tension. Viola felt her heart racing, trying to decipher the meaning of this moment. Sarah, with her blue eyes fixed on Viola's, seemed to be battling an internal conflict.
— But... — Sarah began, hesitating for a moment before continuing. — I wouldn't like to go alone. Could you accompany me to the car?
Viola felt a wave of warmth spread through her body. She knew that this night held something special, something that transcended the casualness of a chance encounter.
— Of course — she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.
They stood up together, still holding hands, and walked towards the exit of the party. The night was quiet, except for the distant sound of music emanating from the mansion. The air was cool, carrying with it a faint scent of jasmine. Viola couldn't shake the feeling that this moment was decisive, a crossroads in her life.
When they reached the car, Sarah turned to Viola, their faces close once again.
— Thank you for accompanying me, Viola. It was an... interesting night — Sarah said, her smile gentle and mysterious.
— It was, indeed — Viola replied, feeling Sarah's closeness like a magnetic field irresistibly drawing her in.
Sarah hesitated for a brief moment before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss on Viola's lips. It was a fleeting touch, almost ethereal, yet laden with profound meaning.
— Good night, Viola — Sarah whispered, pulling back slightly.
Viola, stunned, managed only a murmured "good night" before watching Sarah get into the car and disappear into the darkness of the night. She stood there for a few minutes, trying to process what had just happened.
Finally, she snapped back to reality and walked back to the mansion. There, she found Vinícius, who seemed to be waiting for her, eager to share his own experience.
— Viola, you won't believe what happened! I met S.S. Valentine! She gave me writing advice!
Viola smiled, still feeling the warmth of Sarah's kiss on her lips.
— And I met Sarah Silverstone Valentine — she said, barely able to contain her laughter.
Vinícius widened his eyes, surprised and delighted.
— It seems like this night was truly magical for both of us — he remarked.
— It seems so — Viola replied, feeling that the encounter had changed something within her. The stars still shone brightly in the sky, a reminder that sometimes dreams can come true in unexpected ways.
— Let's get back to work, Vini. We still have a long night ahead of us — she said, a new determination shining in her eyes.
In the days that followed, Viola tried to find a way to get in touch with Sarah. Since the party, she couldn't get the writer out of her head, affecting both her work as a journalist and her scripts.
— What are you thinking about? — Vinícius asked.
They were at Viola's house. With her laptop on her lap in a hanging basket swing in the living room, Viola stared into space as she immersed herself in memories of Sarah's scent, touch, and kiss. She looked at her friend with a lost expression and smiled.
— It's nothing...
Vinícius knew that expression. He had seen it several times whenever Viola fell for someone.
— Did you meet someone else that night? — he asked, his heart squeezed by repressed jealousy.
— What are you talking about?
— I've known you forever, girl. I know when you're crushing on someone! — he insisted with a forced smile.
Viola covered her reddening face and hid her embarrassed smile while tapping her feet nervously.
— Yeah, — she admitted. — I think I'm in love.
— With whom?
Vinícius didn't really want to know, but he didn't know what else to say, and staying silent might be awkward.
Viola looked at him with her smiling brown eyes, and Vinícius fell in love all over again. He wished that smile was for him. He wished she felt for him whatever was causing such a smile.
— At that party at Silverstone Mansion... — Viola began. — Do you remember I also met S.S. Valentine?
— Wait! No...
— Yes! — Viola smiled even wider. She couldn't contain her happiness; it was overflowing.
Viola recounted everything that happened at the party. The stress of trying to interview the literary bigwigs there, her escape to the balcony, and her encounter with Sarah. She told him what they talked about and, finally, about the stolen kiss from Sarah.
Vinícius gave a bitter smile to Viola, hiding his emotions in the palms of his hands while fidgeting like a teenager who had fallen in love for the first time.
He knew this situation might never have happened if he had declared his love for Viola earlier. He knew his suffering was entirely his fault. But still, it hurt so much that he wanted to cry, yet he didn't and smiled.
— Why don't you call her? — Vinícius suggested.
— I wanted to, but we never exchanged contacts. Besides, she's a public figure. A successful writer, and I'm just me — Viola rested her chin on her palm with a complicated expression. — I don't want to seem like a crazy, stalking fan.
— How would that happen? — Vinícius stood up. — Didn't you say she kissed you? Anyway, I have to go.
— Where are you going?
— I have my own issues to deal with too — Vinícius came closer and kissed Viola's cheek. — See you later?
— Okay. Oh! Bring me a pack of cigarettes? Mine are running out.
— You should quit smoking. Bye.
— See you later.
As soon as Vinícius closed the door behind him, tears streamed down his face. Seeing the woman he loved loving someone else hurt just as intensely as ever.
— Coward — Vinícius said to himself and walked down the hallway.
On the other side of town, Sarah was at a book signing event. She greeted fans who brought their books to be signed, smiled, and bid them farewell almost automatically. That's because her thoughts were on Viola's lips since that night.
That night, when she got into the car, she felt her face burning with shame. She couldn't believe how shameless she had been to steal a kiss from Viola. But at the same time, she wished she had gone further and done something more lascivious. A kiss as light as that was not enough.
Sarah's mind wandered as she signed yet another book. The memory of the brief encounter with Viola at the Silverstone mansion party continued to haunt her, bringing forth emotions she hadn't expected to feel. Viola was unlike anyone Sarah had ever met, and this intrigued her deeply.
She wondered if she would muster the courage to reach out to Viola. Would it be appropriate? She was a public figure, and Viola seemed so genuine, so distant from the glamorous world Sarah was accustomed to. Yet, at the same time, something inside her yearned for more of that fleeting connection they had shared.
Amid her musings, Sarah was interrupted by a gentle voice from a fan extending a book to her.
— Sarah, could you sign here, please?
Sarah smiled automatically, signing the book and thanking the fan politely. However, her mind was elsewhere, lost in the image of Viola and the soft taste of her rosy lips.
Meanwhile, Viola was at home, trying to focus on her work as a journalist. But, the memory of the night with Sarah wouldn't leave her mind. She relived the kiss with a slight hint of honey repeatedly as her heart race and a lascivious excitement between her legs.
Viola leaned back in her chair, setting aside the laptop, and slipped a hand into the tingling wetness between her legs. She remembered the gentle softness of Sarah's lips and her sweet scent of red roses.
Viola was hot and breathless, within seconds she was naked and aweat trickling between her breasts as she caressed her nipples and moist flesh.
Then, the sound of her phone shattered her reverie and excitement, but she didn't stop. She was almost there and couldn't stop. Squeezing her nipple, she moved her fingers and a pleasurable tension ran through her body like sweet electricity as she called out Sarah's name.
In ecstasy, she slumped in the chair with her legs still open, trembling. Her chest rising and falling in a breathless rhythm of pleasure.
She smiled and, after a few moments enjoying the pleasure, she picked up her phone and checked the received message. It was from Vinícius asking which brand of cigarettes she wanted, but she didn't reply.
When she calmed down, still holding her phone, she pondered over what she had just done and dissatisfaction set in. She didn't want to just fantasize; she wanted the real thing. Finally, she decided to search for Sarah on social media. She found Sarah Silverstone Valentine's profile, filled with photos from literary events, quotes from her books, and interactions with fans.
Viola felt a flutter of nervousness as she clicked the "follow" button. She wondered if Sarah would remember her, if she would think of her the same way Viola thought of her. But she needed to know.
Meanwhile, Sarah finished her book signing event and returned home. She checked her phone and saw the notification of a new follower on her social media. Viola.
Sarah's heart skipped a beat. She hadn't expected Viola to reach out so soon. She clicked on Viola's profile and saw her photos, her posts about coffee, her essays, and scripts. Sarah found herself smiling as she glimpsed into Viola's life through the lens of her social media.
Without much thought, Sarah sent a direct message to Viola.
*"Viola, it's Sarah. I was glad to see you followed me. How are you?"
Viola felt a wave of excitement seeing Sarah's message. She replied immediately.
*"Sarah! It's great to hear from you. I'm doing well, thank you. And you?"
Sarah responded promptly, and thus began an exchange of messages that lasted for hours that night. They shared stories, laughter, and slowly, their hearts opened up to each other.
In the days that followed, Viola and Sarah continued talking. They discovered common interests, shared their dreams and fears, and the connection between them grew stronger each day. Viola felt inspired by Sarah's passion for writing, while Sarah admired Viola's determination and talent as a screenwriter.
Finally, Sarah suggested they meet again. They agreed to have coffee at a small bistro in town, away from the spotlight and the pressures of Sarah's public life. Nervously, Viola agreed, feeling a mix of anticipation and anxiety.
On the day of the meeting, Viola arrived early and waited eagerly for Sarah. When Sarah walked into the bistro, Viola's heart raced. Sarah smiled upon seeing her, her blue eyes shining like stars.
They settled in a cozy corner of the bistro and began talking as if they were old friends. Time seemed to stand still as they shared stories and laughter, getting lost in each other's comfort.
At the end of the date, Sarah gently held Viola's hand, looking into her eyes.
— Viola, since that night at the party, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. I know it might seem fast, but I feel like there's something special between us.
Viola smiled, feeling moved by Sarah's words. She lightly squeezed Sarah's hand.
— Sarah, I feel something special for you too. That night changed everything for me.
They leaned in towards each other and kissed softly, as if sealing an unspoken pact between them. The world around them faded away, leaving only the warmth of the coffee and the promise of an uncertain future.