8. PEDRO
8
PEDRO
A s we step into Raoul’s, the vibe is on point. The rich aroma of garlic and herbs, the soft clink of glasses, the hum of conversation—it’s the perfect backdrop for a game-changing business deal. The warm lighting gives everything a golden glow, from the dark wooden tables to the plush red booths. This is where the magic happens, where futures are forged over plates of pasta and bottles of red wine.
Asking Aria to join me wasn’t a cakewalk. It felt like admitting I couldn’t handle it solo. But when I hit her up, it hit me—this isn’t about showing weakness; it’s about leveling up. Or, at the very least, stepping back from the brink of financial disaster.
The meeting landed in my lap a couple weeks ago. Up until I asked Aria to be my wing-woman, I was ready to bail. Odds of scoring the funding on my own? Slim to none. But Aria? She’s the ultimate game changer. And if we secure this investment, it could be the lifeline Aira Labs desperately needs. It would get the stakeholders off my back—especially Debbie Downer and her Mountain Dew obsession—and give me the breathing room to focus on what I do best: building the damn product.
As we approach the hostess stand, I give her my most charming smile. “Reservation for three under Olivera.”
The hostess looks at her screen, her eyes widening as she notices the name. “Of course, Mr. Olivera. Right this way, please.” She grabs three menus and leads us into the bustling dining room.
As we make our way to our table, I catch a glimpse of someone out of the corner of my eye. A woman, seated at the bar, her blonde hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. For a moment, my heart stops. It’s one of Jessica’s influencer friends, the one who once tried to take a selfie with a live lobster at a fancy dinner party.
I’m not 100% sure it’s her, and I don’t dare to double-check. I can’t afford to get distracted. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my galloping heart, and focus on the task at hand.
As we settle into our seats, Aria by my side, I can’t help but feel a mix of nerves and anticipation.
The hostess sets our menus down, her smile polite and professional. “Your server and sommelier will be with you shortly. Would you prefer still or sparkling water? ”
I glance at Aria, who shrugs. “Still is fine, thanks,” I say, and the hostess nods before heading off to retrieve our water.
Just as she returns, the eccentric Liam Bennet arrives, and he’s not your typical suit. he’s lean, with a mop of unruly dark hair and a glint of mischief in his eyes. He’s rocking a black leather jacket, a Clash t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. It’s a bold look for a business meeting, but somehow he manages to exude an aura of quiet confidence.
“Pedro, my man!” he greets, clasping my hand in a firm handshake. His grin is infectious, his enthusiasm palpable. “I've been looking forward to this meeting. I'm going all in on AI lately. It’s like we’re living in a sci-fi novel. Love it!”
I glance at Aria, trying to gauge her reaction. to my relief, she seems charmed by his enthusiastic energy, a genuine smile on her face. “We’re stoked to share our vision with you, Liam,” she says, her voice warm and engaging. “Our AI video model is going to revolutionize content creation, making video generation technology more intuitive and accessible.”
Liam nods, his eyes alight with interest. “Revolutionizing content creation, eh? That’s something I've heard before. But I'm still interested.” He leans back in his chair, his posture relaxed but attentive. “You know, I just invested in a company that is creating an AI to generate memes. The emails I get from him are hilarious. But you two, you seem to have a more grounded approach. I can appreciate that.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Meme-generating AI? That’s wild. But you’re spot on, sir. Our focus is on creating something that can make a real difference in people’s lives.”
Liam grins, pointing a finger at me in approval. “Exactly! That’s what I like to hear. Technology with a purpose, not just for the lulz.” He rubs his hands together, his enthusiasm building. “Alright, let’s get down to business. I'm not a pitch deck sort of guy, so this is your one and only shot. Make it count.”
I feel a knot form in my stomach at his words. One shot. No pressure, right? I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. This is it, the moment we've been working towards. I can’t afford to mess it up.
As Aria and I dive into our pitch, Liam is all ears, his eyes sharp and focused. As the food and drinks keep coming, he asks questions, drops insights, his brilliant mind evident in every comment. His humor is quick and clever, adding some levity to the serious discussion.
“So, your video AI model learns not just from the input data, but from user interactions and preferences as well? It’s like having a personal film studio that can read your mind and the minds of your target audience. I'm so here for it!” he exclaims at one point, his grin wide and excited.
By the end of our pitch, I'm feeling a surge of confidence, buoyed by Liam’s clear interest and Aria’s unwavering support. He leans forward, his elbows on the table, his expression serious but with a glimmer of excitement.
“Pedro, Aria,” he says, his voice low and intense. “I like what you’re cooking. This could change the game and give that other video model that shall not be named a run for its money. We'll have Steven Spielberg knocking on our door soon. How much do you need?”
And with those simple words, I feel a weight lift off my shoulders, a rush of elation and relief. We've done it. We’re one giant step closer to securing the investment, the support we need to take Aira Labs to the next level.
By the end of our meal, I'm pretty buzzed, and I'm not sure if I'm more hyped about the potential funding or the fact that I've just met the real-life version of an internet meme.
Liam rises from his chair and shakes each of our hands, his grip firm and enthusiastic. “I have a good feeling about you two,” he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “My team will be in touch.”
As he heads out, I turn to Aria, a grin spreading across my face as I take her hand under the table, my fingers intertwining with hers. “You did it.”
The softness of her skin is comforting, sending a chill through me.
She flashes me a warm smile, squeezing my hand in a small gesture of support. “You crushed it. I'm so proud of you.”
The moment feels charged, the air between us heavy with something unsaid. Without thinking, I lean in and kiss her. Her lips are soft, pliant, moving against mine with a gentle urgency. It’s a moment of pure, unadulterated impulse, a celebration of our triumph.
The kiss is electric, a collision of past and present. Her lips feel both foreign and familiar, like coming home after a long journey. As she parts her lips slightly, deepening the kiss, I'm transported back to our first kiss, all those years ago. The way she tilts her head, the soft sigh that escapes her, it’s all so achingly familiar. But there’s a newness to it too, a sense of rediscovery, of falling in love all over again.
But the bliss is short-lived. As we pull apart, breathless and giddy, I catch sight of Yasmine, Jessica’s friend, staring at us from across the restaurant. She’s trying to avoid looking at me as she’s on her way to the bathroom, but it’s clear that I've been spotted.
Panic rises in my throat, hot and bitter. I excuse myself, mumbling something about needing to hit the restroom. I can feel Aria’s eyes on me as I walk away, confusion and concern etched on her face.
I catch up with Yasmine just as she’s about to enter the ladies' room. Her blonde ponytail is pulled so tight it’s giving DIY facelift vibes.
“Yasmine, hey. Listen, about what you just saw...”
She smirks as she attempts to raise one of her eyebrows, but it hardly moves. “Jessica will be very interested to hear about this.”
My stomach tightens, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of my neck. “You don’t understand what’s going on. And I wish I could tell you more, but it’s complicated.”
Her smirk only grows, her eyes glinting with a twisted delight. “Complicated? I don’t see what’s complicated about what just happened. You’re clearly cheating and cheaters are pumpkin eaters. Very simple.”
My mouth drops as I recall that live lobster selfie. I realize she might not be playing with a full deck. Or maybe she’s drunk? “Yasmine, I'm begging you. Please don’t say anything to Jessica. Things between us are…complicated. That’s all I can say.”
Yasmine sighs, rolling her eyes. “Fine. I won’t say anything. But you owe me, Gutierrez.”
I try not to burst into laughter as she gets my last name wrong. But despite her casual racism, an uneasy relief settles over me. I know Yasmine, and I definitely know her type. She lives for drama, for the thrill of being in the know.
“Thanks. I owe you big time.”
As I walk away, I can’t shake the feeling that Yasmine’s agreement is hollow. That she’s just pretending that she'll let this go; that she’s not going to run into that bathroom stall and text Jessica right now, or post the whole thing on Instagram. She’s an influencer, after all. Stirring up drama is her job.
I return to the table, trying to force a smile. But Aria can sense something is off. She leans forward, her brow furrowed with worry. “Is everything okay? Who was that?”
I hesitate, not sure how to explain. How do I tell her about Jessica, about the C&D, about the mess I've gotten myself into? “Just an old acquaintance.”
Aria arches an eyebrow, not quite believing me. “Um…okay.”
I shake my head, trying to brush it off. “It’s nothing. I think everything that just happened with Liam has got my mind spinning. We should probably head out.”
Aria nods, though she’s clearly unconvinced. As we step out into the cool night air, I notice her eyes lingering on the ground, where the city lights create shifting patterns on the pavement. Cars rush by, their headlights cutting through the darkness, but it’s the way she seems to focus on the dim, ever-changing shapes around us that tell me her thoughts are far from settled.
I've bought myself some time, but I know it won’t be long before the truth comes out. Before Aria learns about Jessica, about the C&D, about the tangled legal web I've gotten myself into.
And when it does, will she still be proud of me then? The thought of messing this up again is almost too much to handle. I have to find a way to come clean…and soon.
As we walk down the street, our footsteps echoing on the concrete, I can feel the distance growing between us. The easy camaraderie of earlier, the warmth of our kiss, it all feels like a distant memory now.
I've taken a step forward, only to be yanked three steps back by the ghosts of my past. And now, as I glance at Aria, her profile illuminated by the streetlights, I can’t help but wonder if I've already started to lose her.
As we arrive at the entrance to Aria’s building, the tension between us is palpable. The excitement and heat from our earlier kiss have dissipated, replaced by an awkward silence. But I don’t want to leave things like this, not after the amazing night we've had.
“Hey,” I say softly, turning to face her. “Remember our first kiss? In the coffee lab?”
A small smile plays on her lips. “Yeah, I remember. It was our first lunch break together after we started texting. You didn’t tell me I had broccoli in my teeth until months later.”
I laugh, the memory warming me. “I didn’t want to ruin the moment. But I should have told you sooner. Honesty is important, right?”
Aria’s eyes search mine. “Is there anything you want to tell me now?”
We stand there, our gazes locked, the unspoken questions hanging in the air between us. I want to tell her everything, to lay my cards on the table. But the words catch in my throat.
Instead, I reach out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “This has been the best night I've had in four years.”
Her eyes soften, a glimmer of understanding in their depths. I lean in, and her lips meet mine in a gentle kiss. It’s a kiss that feels like a promise.
As we part, I rest my forehead against hers, savoring the closeness. “I'll call you tomorrow.”
She nods, flashing me a warm but guarded smile as she disappears into her building.
With a sigh, I turn and head down the street, the city lights guiding my way. Tomorrow is a new day, a new chance to make things right. And I'm determined not to waste it.
I stand by the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room of my apartment, the city’s restless energy pulsing below. The distance between my past and present feels both vast and insignificant tonight. My phone feels heavy in my hand as I navigate to the 'Hidden' folder in my Photos app.
There, I find images of Aria and me, captured in moments of unguarded authenticity. Each image is a reminder of the laughter and connection we shared.
One pic from Central Park stands out. Aria’s smile, genuine and broad, reaches out from the screen, stirring up memories I thought I had tucked away. It was taken in the first few months of our relationship, when we were both still working at Google, before the complexities of life began to get in the way—before Hong Kong, before the startup, before my own doubts started to steer us off course.
I remember the day Aria offered to invest in my startup. Her faith in me should have been inspiring. Instead, it was low-key terrifying. It felt more like a spotlight on my shortcomings than a vote of confidence.
The sound of footsteps breaks my reverie. I look up to see Tío Juan entering the room, a knowing smile on his face. “ Mijo , you look like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
I chuckle, the tension in my body easing. “Just taking a trip down memory lane, Tio. Trying to make sense of it all.”
He nods, settling into the chair across from me. “Memory lane can be a treacherous path. It’s easy to get lost in the what-ifs.”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I just keep thinking about how things ended with Aria back in 2020. I pushed her away, Tio. And for what? Pride? Fear?”
Tío Juan leans forward, his eyes filled with understanding. “What are you afraid of now?”
The question hangs in the air, demanding an honest answer. I take a moment, trying to untangle the knot of emotions in my chest. The truth is that then, and even now, the fear of not being enough is hard to ignore. The fear of failure, of letting people down, is almost too much to bear .
“Aria believed in me,” I reply. “She still believes in me. I wish I could feel the same way about myself.”
Tío Juan nods, his expression thoughtful. “Pedro,” he says, his tone carrying the weight of experience, “sometimes, the people who challenge us most are the ones who see our true potential. Her belief challenges you to believe in yourself. It’s not easy to see what others see in us. But if you trust her judgment, why would you question her honesty?”
His words linger, demanding contemplation. “Thanks, Tio,” I say, still digesting the depth of his wisdom. “I needed to hear that.”
Tío Juan grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “And I won’t even charge you for this session.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You’re lucky I’m not charging you rent.”
“Hey, take it easy,” he replies as he stands up. “I have the elder abuse hotline on speed dial.”
I shake my head as he walks away toward his bedroom. Tío Juan. Always spitting facts.
When Aria and I were together, she never fixated on the flaws that consumed me. to her, they didn’t even compute.
I swipe through the hidden images of Aria and me on my phone, the memories echoing like a bittersweet melody. Changing course, I open my camera roll, scrolling through the last year. Photos with Jessica appear, the contrast to the ones with Aria is striking. With Aria, there was authenticity and vulnerability. With Jessica, it was all curated and prefabricated. Every day was Glamour Shot Day with Jessica.
One photo in particular catches my eye. My thumb hovers over the delete button. There we are, standing in front of the Hong Kong skyline, all smiles for the camera, years before we even became a couple. She latched onto me quickly. And I can’t deny that she made me feel like I was worth something—like I was someone special, just for being near her. But the truth is, I was just a prop in her curated life.
I press delete and feel a weight lift. For the first time, it feels like I’m reclaiming the part of myself I gave away so willingly. As I delete these photos one by one, it feels like I'm shedding my ill-fitting lizard-skin suit.
The final photo with Jessica is from Central Park, taken near the spot where Aria and I had our picture taken. It shows us in a forced embrace, our smiles strained.
I recall how, that day, Jessica made a snide comment about my reluctance to post pictures of us on my own socials. “Why don’t you ever post about us? It’s like I'm the only one putting effort into this relationship. Don’t you want the world to know how happy we are?” Her voice sounded sweet, but the underlying accusation was clear. Her constant need for virtual validation only amplified my own insecurities, making me feel like I could never measure up to the perfect image she projected of us to the world.
With a decisive swipe, the photo disappears, along with the last digital remnant of my time with Jessica. Taking a deep breath, I return to the 'Hidden' folder. One by one, I restore the photos of Aria.
I realize now that my fear of inadequacy, of not being enough, was a self-fulfilling prophecy. By pushing Aria away, I was creating the very failure I was so afraid of. But Tío Juan’s words echo in my mind—Aria’s belief in me is a challenge to believe in myself.
Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe this second chance with Aria is an opportunity to confront my fears, to open myself up to the possibility of real, honest love.
I set my phone down, a sense of determination settling over me. Tomorrow, I'll call Aria. I'll tell her everything—about Jessica, about what happened between us four years ago, about how much she means to me. It won’t be easy, but it’s necessary if we’re going to have any chance at a future together.
For the first time in a long time, I feel a flicker of hope. Hope that I can be the man Aria sees in me.