Carla and I settle in front of the fireplace, kicking back on the couch. She nestles into one corner while I take the other, our legs intertwining as we study each other, sipping our wine.
The night feels full of promise and possibility, and my mind, usually racing with thoughts, is clear and quiet.
“Why do you ride a motorcycle and keep it a secret?” Carla asks after a long moment.
Sighing, I take another sip of my wine. “My father forbade it,” I admit, laughing. “He would be furious if he knew I loved it so much. But after he passed, I was…lost. Angry. Starting to spin out of control. I was at the academy in Spain, mostly on my own, and started to run with an older crowd. Guys who had been cut from their teams or didn’t have what it takes. They didn’t know what to pursue if they didn’t have fútbol, so they mostly pursued trouble. I was young, pissed at the world, and impressionable. We got in trouble with the police?—”
Carla gasps, her hand lifting to her mouth. Then, she offers a sheepish expression. “Sorry.”
I clasp her foot and pull it into my lap, keeping my thumb pressed into the arch of her foot. She squirms once before relaxing.
“Some of the older boys had shoplifted and I was along for the ride, a fucking idiot who had no clue what was actually going on. Luckily, Álvaro happened to be nearby. When he caught sight of me, he intervened on my behalf. Given my age, and Álvaro sharing that my father had just passed and my mamma was in the States, the police let me go. I went home with Álvaro that night and the next morning, he took me to a racetrack in Chiva.”
“I know that track. My cousin, Rafa, started his training there. He’s driving in F2 now.”
“I know. Rafa’s good shit. He introduced me to some of his buddies as I spent more time at the track, just watching the motorbikes and karts. That’s where Álvaro taught me all about speed and control. Freedom,” I admit. “He bought me my first bike and told me to stay out of trouble,” I snicker. “My papa probably rolled over in his grave, but Álvaro was right. At that moment in time, I needed the release and the motorcycle gave me that adrenaline high, that riskiness, the sense of independence I craved without getting me into trouble with the law.”
“Except you were a kid on a motorcycle. No license.”
I laugh. “True. But I learned on the track. It was legit there and even though it was against my academy contract, Álvaro covered for me and made sure I learned how to handle the motorbike. I was trained by guys with experience. Honestly? I’m sure your father knew what was going on and turned a blind eye. I was lost and going down the wrong road and this is how Álvaro tried to course correct. I’m grateful to him every damn day.”
“I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you. The loneliness.”
“I liked visiting your family. Spending holidays with the Garcías always felt like hitting the lottery.”
Carla sips her wine, shaking her head. “I used to love when Ale brought you home for a weekend. I always hoped you would notice me.”
“I always noticed you; we always hung out.”
“I mean, notice me, notice me. Not as Ale’s kid sister or the girl who reminded you of Bianca. But…as a girl you could be interested in.”
“Ah,” I sigh. “I’m sorry, cucciola. Back then, I only had the mental bandwidth for fútbol and illicit motocross.”
“And then, Chiara…”
“Curious, are you?”
“Extremely.” She smacks her lips together.
“I met Chiara right before I signed my first professional contract. I had just turned nineteen and it felt like things were finally working out for me. When I met her, I thought this is it. We’re going to grow together. She’s going to know the real me, the Luca before a professional contract and salary…” I shrug. “Things with Chiara progressed the way I thought they should, it was the natural, linear, series of expected steps. We were young.”
“And after Chiara?”
“A natural, linear, series of expected steps,” I repeat, “focused on no commitment and nothing serious.” I give her foot a little tug. “I didn’t think I was capable of giving more. Until you. You’re flipping the script for me.”
“You flipped my script a long time ago, Luca. I always crushed on you but never thought I could be in your orbit. Unless I was way on the periphery.”
“You could be the sun, Carla.”
She holds my gaze, but her fingers twist together in a show of nerves. “I’m scared to have that responsibility.”
“You don’t have to. We’ll take it slow.”
She leans forward to place her wineglass on the coffee table. Then, she shifts toward me, taking my glass and moving it to the coffee table too. I reach for her, tugging her up my frame as she settles over me.
“What are you afraid of?” I whisper, staring into her unguarded face.
“You first,” she pleads, her gaze dropping from my eyes to my mouth and back again.
