Chapter 16 | Confidence

The next day, around noon, Jade poked her head over my screen.

“Lunch break?”

I looked up.

She had a coffee in her hand and that slightly amused expression she wore almost all the time, as if the world around her were a joke only she truly understood.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

She made a small gesture toward the elevator.

“I’ll wait for you.”

I closed my Excel file.

My brain protested a little, not because of the work, but because of what this lunch might mean.

Then I stood up anyway.

We settled in a small restaurant two streets away from the office.

Nothing very fancy. Wooden tables. Menu written in chalk. The noise of cutlery and mixed conversations. A white light a little too direct, and the kind of servers who have seen far too many lunch breaks pass by to still believe in people.

Jade immediately seemed at ease.

She sat across from me, placed her sunglasses on the table, and grabbed the menu.

“So.”

“So what?”

“You’re making that face again.”

“What face?”

She narrowed her eyes slightly.

“The guy who analyzes everything.”

I sighed.

“It’s a professional flaw.”

“No.”

She picked up her glass of water.

“It’s a personal flaw.”

I smiled despite myself.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

We ordered quickly. When the waiter walked away, Jade placed her elbows on the table.

“I’m going to tell you something.”

“That sounds serious.”

“No.”

She lifted one shoulder.

“Just honest.”

I watched her.

She seemed a little different today.

Less provocative.

Or rather: provocative in a less automatic way.

As if she had chosen to lower the volume a little without stopping being herself.

“I’ve had quite a few stories with guys,” she said.

I didn’t know what to answer.

So I simply said:

“Okay.”

She gave a small smile.

“You see?”

“See what?”

“Others would already have asked how many.”

I shrugged.

“That’s not really my problem.”

“Exactly.”

She took a piece of bread.

“And you know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“They all go crazy when you say no.”

I frowned slightly.

“Ah. What do you mean?”

“Men.”

She made a small vague gesture with her hand.

“At first they play it cool. Then they want more. Then they get angry when you refuse.”

She bit into the bread.

“Classic.”

I stayed silent.

She looked at me.

“Does that shock you?”

“A little.”

“Why?”

“Because… I don’t see the point.”

She smiled softly.

“Exactly.”

The waiter brought our plates.

For a few seconds, we ate in silence.

Then Jade looked up.

“You know why I like you?”

I stopped.

“No.”

“Because you’re not like other guys.”

I let out a small laugh.

“That’s a dangerous sentence.”

“Why?”

“Because it rarely ends well.”

She shook her head.

“No.”

She really looked at me this time.

“You have a heart.”

The sentence fell softly between us.

I felt a strange warmth rise in my chest.

“Everyone has one.”

“No.”

She smiled slightly.

“Not really.”

I lowered my eyes to my plate.

I never knew what to do with that kind of compliment.

When I looked up again, she was still watching me.

Her expression was different.

Softer.

Almost fragile.

“You know you’re too kind?”

“I hear that often.”

“It’s not a reproach.”

“It sounds like one, though.”

She shook her head.

“Because you always try to turn things into reproaches.”

I frowned slightly.

“That’s not true.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

She took a fry, then vaguely pointed it at me.

“Look at yourself.”

“That’s complicated without a mirror.”

“You’re exhausting.”

I smiled a little.

So did she.

Then she continued, more calmly:

“Being kind isn’t the problem.”

I looked up.

“Ah.”

“The problem is that you give before you even know who to.”

I stayed silent.

Because the sentence had touched something very close to the truth, and I didn’t like that much.

Jade continued:

“You want people to be okay. You want them to think you’re decent. You want to avoid bothering anyone.”

She lifted one shoulder.

“As a result, you let them take up far too much space before checking whether they deserve it.”

I lowered my eyes to my plate.

“That’s a slightly violent analysis for noon.”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Then she added, lower:

“It’s not against you.”

“It kind of sounds like it.”

“Because you’re sensitive when someone touches the right thing.”

I didn’t answer.

She was probably right.

Again.

Jade put down her fork.

Then, very naturally, she reached her hand toward me.

Her fingers brushed my neck.

Just behind my ear.

The gesture was slow.

Very light.

I froze immediately.

Not out of rejection.

Out of surprise.

She kept looking at me while she gently stroked the back of my neck with her fingertips.

“You see?”

“What?”

“You tense up immediately.”

I smiled nervously.

“I’m not very used to it.”

“I know.”

Her hand stayed one more second.

Then slid lightly over my neck.

A soft gesture.

But precise.

As if she knew exactly the effect it produced.

“Relax, Eliott.”

Her voice was low.

Almost reassuring.

And yet, something in that touch also had a… measured side.

Not pure seduction.

More like a way of checking.

Of observing.

As if she were making sure once again that, with me, there was no dirty game and no sudden demand in return. That I wouldn’t take that gesture as a debt, or as a promise, or as permission.

She finally removed her hand.

“There.”

I breathed again without realizing it.

She smiled.

“You see?”

“What?”

“You really are different.”

I didn’t know if it was a compliment.

But I had already started wanting to believe it.

We stayed a little longer in the restaurant.

The conversation continued more softly, without big topics.

Jade spoke in fragments, small anecdotes, ordinary things that still seemed slightly more personal than usual.

Her first roommate who stole her shower products.

An old relationship that had ended because “he was in love with himself, which already made too many people in the relationship.”

Her mother, who still sent her three-minute voice messages to complain.

Then, almost without warning:

“I hate silence at home.”

I looked up.

“Ah.”

“I always sleep with background noise.”

“A show?”

“Anything.”

She lifted one shoulder.

“TV, music, podcast, white noise, whatever. I don’t like it when it’s too empty.”

I didn’t know why she was telling me that.

Or rather, I did.

She was giving me little pieces.

Not huge revelations.

Just real things.

Habits. Tiny cracks. Details that, put together, make someone.

“And you?” she asked.

“Me what?”

“How do you sleep?”

I thought about it.

“Badly?”

“That’s not a method.”

“I know.”

She gave a small smile.

“You always look like a guy who thinks even while sleeping.”

“That’s probably true.”

“Exhausting.”

“Yes.”

She looked at me for a few seconds.

“Have you ever lived with someone?”

I shook my head.

“No.”

“Never ever?”

“No.”

“Interesting.”

“Why?”

“I’m trying to imagine it.”

“And?”

She took a sip of water.

“I think you’d be the type to make coffee, tidy up too many things, apologize when you’re hungry, and sleep on the edge of the bed.”

I stared at her.

“That’s weirdly precise. Have we already slept together?”

“I’m very observant.”

I let out a small laugh.

“That’s a little vexing.”

“No.”

She had a more discreet smile.

“It’s almost endearing.”

The word made me look up at her a little too quickly.

She noticed.

Obviously.

But she didn’t point it out.

Not this time.

We paid the bill later than expected.

When we left the restaurant, the sun was still high enough to give the street a clear light.

Jade walked beside me.

“Thanks for lunch.”

“It was your idea.”

“I know.”

She slipped her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

“But it was nice anyway.”

I nodded.

“Yes.”

A few steps passed.

Then she said:

“You know what I like about you?”

I sighed lightly.

“I’m afraid of the answer.”

“You don’t play.”

I turned my head toward her.

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t try to impress.”

She lifted one shoulder.

“You’re just… there.”

I smiled.

“That’s not very spectacular.”

“Really not.”

She looked at me.

“But I like it.”

We arrived in front of the office building entrance.

The glass doors reflected the street behind us.

For one second, I saw our silhouettes side by side in the reflection.

Then Jade placed a hand on my arm.

“Wait.”

I turned toward her.

She moved slightly closer.

Not enough for it to be obvious to people around us.

But enough for me to smell her perfume.

“You know…”

She hesitated for one second.

“I have trouble trusting people.”

I stayed silent.

“Most people want something.”

“Attention.”

“Sex.”

“Or just to win.”

She shrugged.

“With you, I don’t get that feeling.”

I felt something tighten gently in my chest.

“That’s good.”

“Very.”

She looked at me for a few more seconds.

Then her hand slid once again toward my neck.

The same gesture.

Slow.

Controlled.

Her fingers traced a small line behind my ear.

I immediately felt my body react.

She noticed.

Obviously.

Her smile stretched slightly.

But this time that smile had nothing triumphant in it.

More like a calm confirmation.

As if she were thinking, yes, he reacts, but he doesn’t take.

“You see?” she said.

“What?”

“You’re easy to read.”

I let out a small laugh.

“Great.”

“It’s not a flaw.”

She removed her hand.

Then pushed the door open.

“Come on.”

The open space was a little livelier than at noon.

People were coming back from break.

Conversations were starting again.

I returned to my desk while Jade went back toward the sales department.

I felt… strange.

Not bad.

Not worried.

Just a little troubled.

As if something had shifted in my perception of her.

Jade was complicated.

Yes.

But at least, she seemed to want something from me.

Or maybe simply my presence.

And that idea was reassuring.

Around three, I stood up to get a glass of water.

The dispenser was near the corridor leading to the legal department.

I was filling my glass when a voice sounded behind me.

“You’re hydrating, that’s good.”

I turned around.

Lyralda.

She held a file under her arm.

Same posture as usual. Same calm gaze.

“Yes.”

“Keep going.”

She came closer to the dispenser.

Filled her own glass.

Then looked at me briefly.

“Good lunch?”

“Yes.”

“With Jade?”

I felt my stomach contract slightly.

“Yes.”

She nodded.

“That’s good.”

Her reaction was so neutral it almost became suspicious.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

She took a sip of water.

Then put the glass down.

“She’s a good friend.”

I didn’t know what to add.

Neither did she.

The silence lasted a few seconds.

Then a movement in the corridor caught my eye.

Mister Delmas had just come out of his glass office. He had a printed sheet in his hand.

“Lyralda, do you have two minutes?”

She turned her head.

“Yes, Pascal.”

He came closer, handed her the document, then leaned slightly to show her something in the margin. She moved closer too, just enough to read.

Nothing strange.

Nothing intimate.

Nothing.

And yet, seen from there, in the white light of the corridor, they had that silent ease of people who have already worked together a thousand times. There was no visible tension. Just habit. Fluidity. A language that no longer needed explaining.

And as usual, my brain took that perfectly ordinary information and immediately made a far too stupid hypothesis out of it.

Jade appeared at the end of the corridor at that moment.

She was walking toward us with a file in hand.

When she saw us, she slowed slightly.

Her gaze moved from me to Lyralda.

Then to Mister Delmas.

Then she smiled.

“Am I interrupting?”

“No,” Lyralda said.

“Perfect.”

Jade stopped near us.

Very close.

“Eliott, I forgot to tell you…”

She placed a quick hand on my shoulder.

Just one second.

But the gesture was visible.

Clear.

“Thanks for lunch.”

She looked at me.

“It was really nice.”

Then she turned toward Lyralda.

“We should do that more often between colleagues.”

Mister Delmas briefly looked up from his paper. His gaze slid over us, then returned to Lyralda with that calm he always had.

“As long as it doesn’t delay my closings, do whatever you want.”

Jade gave a small smile.

“Always a romantic, Pascal.”

Lyralda barely reacted.

Almost.

Just that very slight movement of the mouth which, with her, sometimes stood in for an entire smile.

“That’s his great flaw,” she said.

Mister Delmas returned to his document without commenting.

Just an ordinary sentence.

And yet, there again, there was that little something too fluid between them.

Jade broke the moment first.

“Right.”

She took one step back.

“I’m going back to work. I have responsibilities, unlike some people.”

She gave me a small smile.

“See you later, Eliott.”

Then she went back toward her desk.

I stayed near the water dispenser with Lyralda.

Mister Delmas had already returned to his office.

Lyralda was still watching the corridor where Jade had disappeared.

Then she turned toward me.

“Be careful.”

I frowned slightly.

“Of what?”

She lifted one shoulder.

“Yourself.”

I didn’t understand right away.

And when I looked up, she was already heading back to her office.