This is a story that tells us that sometimes, what we're looking for is so close that it's hard to see...
Lavapiés, late August.
The building's stairs were damp despite being inside the apartment block. Dani and Inés sat on the third step. They laughed quietly, as if the silence of the night belonged to them, oblivious to the world sleeping beyond those walls. They were alone. It couldn't have been three o'clock yet.
"It was incredible," said Inés, her voice between drowsy and tired. "I can't remember the last time I laughed so much."
Dani nodded, looking at her like someone memorizing a scene to never forget it. Every gesture, every word, etched itself somewhere in his chest. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she got nervous, how her eyes shone under the entrance hall light, even the small hole in the knee of her jeans.
"Me neither," he confessed. "I don't regret staying with you. Everyone else leaving was the best thing that could have happened to me."
And it was true. When their group of friends had decided to leave, when everyone got in the taxi amid laughter and plans to sleep in late, Dani had felt the impulse to stay. Not out of tiredness, not because he particularly liked the pub, but because Inés had said she'd stay a bit longer. And that had been enough.
Inés gave him a smile back. The echo of their laughter went up and down the entrance hall walls, bouncing off the mailboxes and the iron railing, as if time decided to stay a little longer, suspended in that perfect instant.
"Do you remember when we played foosball?" she asked suddenly, resting her head against the cold wall. "I thought we were going to break it. The bartender looked at us like we were two kids."
Dani laughed, remembering how they'd bet beers that neither of them had drunk afterwards.
"You won all the games," he said. "Except the last one."
"Because you let me win."
"That's not true."
"Of course it is. I saw how you missed that last goal on purpose."
They looked at each other and laughed again, that complicit laughter that only exists when two people share a secret no one else would understand.
"I don't want to leave," Inés murmured then, and the tone changed, became more intimate. She played with the edge of her denim jacket, frayed from use. "I'd like to stay with you all night..."
Dani looked at her, surprised by the sincerity of those words. For a second, the world seemed to stop. The distant sound of a car passing on the street, some cricket singing, everything faded away. Only she remained, looking at him with those eyes that seemed to invite him to an endless night.
"But at home they think I went out with Laura," she added, lowering her voice, and reality returned like a door closing. "And you know, Laura, my best friend, never comes home too late. If I'm late, it'll be noticed."
Dani nodded slowly, swallowing his disappointment, as if looking for a way to stop the clock hands, to stretch the night a little longer. He wanted to tell her to stay, to make up an excuse, that one more night didn't matter to anyone. But he knew it wasn't that simple. He barely knew Inés.
"We could meet up next week," Inés proposed, biting her lip.
There was something in her gaze, as if she were testing the words before finally throwing them into the air.
"Would that be a date?" asked Dani, with a half-smile, trying to sound casual, even though his heart was beating faster, pounding against his ribs as if wanting to escape.
Inés laughed, as if the question had woken her from a dream.
"So it won't be one," she said, amused, "we'll each bring someone. That way there'll be no suspicions. We'll meet at the same pub, okay?"
"Perfect," Dani replied. Once again that game of pretenses, of casual encounters that weren't. But if that was the only way to see her, he'd accept it.
"I'll go with Laura," she added. "She didn't come today because she was moving into her new apartment. Her father inherited it from a relative a year ago, it was empty."
Inés paused before continuing, with that tone she used when talking about her friends, full of affection.
"She's going to study Law. She's excited, says she wants to specialize in something international, even though she doesn't like traveling. Laura, an only child, has never lacked for anything and always has huge plans. She's special, you know. Maybe at first she won't click with you, but afterwards she's one hundred percent with her friends, gives it her all."
Dani looked up, thoughtful. An idea formed in his head.
"Then I'll bring Marcos," he said. "He's also starting Law. A theater geek. He was with me at the beginning of the night... tall, messy-haired, a bit rough around the edges, but handsome as hell. He's always being contrary, it's in his nature, there's no fixing him."
Inés nodded, as if she'd just remembered something.
"Yes, I remember Marcos," she replied, and a spark of recognition crossed her gaze. "The one with the rebel hair, right? The one who tried to convince you to leave with him and your friends and leave me here. The one with the good boy face."
"That's the one," Dani confirmed, laughing. "He insisted all night. Turns out this summer he almost got together with someone, over there in that tiny country, with a girl from his high school. Blonde. He loves blondes with short, straight hair and a lot of... assets."
"Wow, exquisite taste!" Inés shot back.
"So, right now he's over all girls, and wants to have a good time and be with all his friends. That's why he was so interested in me ditching you tonight."
They both laughed, and for a moment it was as if there were no pending goodbyes, as if they could stay there forever, on that third step that already felt like theirs.
Silence crept between them again: full of glances and unspoken but understood words.
Inés stood up slowly, brushing off her pants, as if she didn't want to break the moment. She stood there, one step down, looking at him from that new distance that suddenly seemed enormous.
"See you, Dani," she said, and her voice sounded smaller, almost fragile.
"See you," he replied, without moving, engraving every detail of that moment in his memory.
She kept looking at him as she descended the last steps. He watched her push open the glass door of the entrance hall, step out onto the deserted street, walk under the streetlights that cast her elongated shadow on the asphalt. The sound of her footsteps gradually faded, leaving that feeling that only nights that don't want to end have.
Then she stood there for a moment, and observed the third step that still held the warmth of both of them, as the entrance hall door closed. She knew she should go, go up to her apartment, get into bed. But something asked her to stay a little longer, clinging to the last seconds of a night that had already become a memory.
And while the city slept, on the other hand, Dani smiled. Because it had been a perfect night and he knew that in a week he'd see her again, even if it meant bringing a friend, even if they had to pretend they didn't want to be alone. He'd see her, and that was perfect.