I leaned against the railing, staring at the city lights that flickered like an inverted sky.
For a moment, I was lost in thought. The party had been my parents' idea, an opportunity to strengthen ties with important partners, close deals and show that the Groves were still one of the most influential families. I had just done my duty, smiling and waving to strangers who seemed to know everything about me.
The sound of footsteps brought me back to reality. I turned slightly, surprised to see Sack cross the balcony threshold. He had noticed it at the party, although he remained by his father's side, with an expression of disinterest that contrasted with the energy of the others. What was he doing here?
"It's amazing how the view from here is more interesting than any of the conversations inside," he said, his tone nonchalant, not bothering to look directly at me.
"Isn't it?" I answered, smiling. "Although I don't think many people realize. Most are too busy trying to impress.
Sack let out a short laugh, almost a snort, and leaned against the railing some distance from me. His gaze was lost in the lights of the city.
"That seems to be the favorite sport of the night. Are you here to compete too? He asked, with a raised eyebrow and a glint of sarcasm in his eyes.
"Oh, no," I replied with a soft laugh. I'm more of a spectator. I prefer to observe the spectacle from the shadows.
"Interesting strategy," he murmured, looking back at the city. Although I wonder if it's just as exhausting.
"Maybe, but at least I can avoid conversations about the real estate market or the latest stock market movements." And you? Shouldn't you be inside, making connections?
Sack cocked his head toward me, his expression half curiosity and half mockery.
"Do you think so?" That I came here to "make connections"?
"Well, that's what everyone seems to be doing," I said, shrugging my shoulders. But I guess you're not like everyone else.
"You were right," he said simply, with a hint of satisfaction. Then he fell silent, as if he didn't feel the need to fill the space with words.
I let the silence settle for a moment, but my curiosity got the better of me.
"By the way, I'm Lindsay Grove," I said, extending a hand to him.
He looked at my hand for a moment, as if deciding if it was worth shaking. Finally, he did, with a firm but brief squeeze.
"Sack Steele," he said, though he didn't seem interested in really introducing himself.
A spark of recognition crossed his face, and he looked at me with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.
"Wait... Grove?" He asked, his brow slightly furrowed. Your last name rings a bell. Are your parents Amelia and Thomas?
My smile widened slightly. "Wow, I didn't expect you to meet them. Yes, it's them. Why Ask?
"My father introduced me to them a little while ago. "They mentioned that their daughter was going to study medicine at Stanford," he said, casually, though his gaze examined me with renewed interest. It's you?
I nodded, surprised that he remembered it. "That's right. And you? How do you know so much?
Sack looked away for a moment before answering. "Because I go to Stanford, too." Medicine, just like you.
My eyes opened a little wider. "Really?" That's an interesting coincidence.
Sack shrugged, as if he didn't want to make too much of it. "I assumed you already knew," he added, casually. In the store, when you were looking at my phone, it seemed like you had noticed something interesting. I thought that could be that.
"Did you notice that?" I asked, surprised. Then I smiled with amusement. "Well, I admit it. I saw it in your email when you were attending to me.
His eyebrow arched, but his expression was more curious than annoying. "Wow, I didn't think it was so obvious.
"It was for me," I replied, shrugging my shoulders. But seriously, why did you work there? You could bet you don't need the money.
Sack let out a short, almost resigned sigh. "Because my father insisted. According to him, he had to learn to "value hard work." Not that it gave me much choice.
"So it was an order?" I asked, feeling a twinge of empathy. I could understand what it was like to have expectations imposed by parents.
"Something like that," he replied, looking back at the city. Although it turned out to be a good way to get out of the house from time to time.
"I suppose Stanford will be a good place to get out of all that," I said, trying to lighten the subject.
"Perhaps," he replied, in a tone that suggested skepticism. If I manage to endure all the theater that it entails.
I stared at him for a moment longer, remembering our first encounter in the store. He had been rude, almost dismissive. But now, although he was not the kindest and his attitude was still apathetic, it was surprisingly easy to converse with. Perhaps appearances were really deceiving.
As the night wind caressed my face, I wondered if beneath that indifferent façade there was someone as caught up in the expectations of others as I was. The thought made me feel an unexpected connection. Perhaps, after all, we weren't so different.
Several minutes passed in silence, with Sack absorbed in the sight and I lost in my own thoughts. The tranquility of the moment was interrupted by his voice.
"Well, I should go back inside," he said, moving away from the railing and putting his hands in his pockets. If my father doesn't see me "making connections," he will surely get angry.
"Sure, you don't want me to drag you to the next event as punishment," I said with a light smile.
Sack gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Exactly. See you at Stanford, I guess.
"Yes, see you," I replied, watching as I returned to the bustle of the party.
I stayed on the balcony for a while longer, feeling that the night had changed somehow. Maybe it was the fresh air or that strange conversation, but something about me felt a little lighter.