Boots on gravel crunched, and Luca walked up to my side of the truck, his eyes troubled and filled with disgust. I braced myself for the usual hot and cold from him. The sting of him being mean or telling me, for the millionth time, that football would come first. “I—”
“I know. Football comes first. I remember. No need to drive it home.” I focused on the dashboard and a speck of dust on the top right.
“That wasn’t… I’m not… hey,” he said softly. He ran a hand over my hair, gripping the back of my head, tilting it so I could face him.
The warmth on his face combined with the softness of his eyes, and I about melted. Luca wasgorgeous.“What?” I asked, a little breathless.
“I love your hair.” He smiled, the gesture taking up his entire face. He sighed as he ran his fingers through it.
“Oh.”
“It’s perfect.” He narrowed his eyes, his smirk growing. “You’re becoming a real problem, Lo.”
“Wait, what? You’re all over the place right now, and I have no idea what to do.” My stomach did a flip-flop, and my heart backflipped. Was he teasing me or threatening me? With those gooey eyes, it couldn’t be a threat. I was seventy percent sure. “You have a strange look on your face, Monroe.”
“You keep finding ways to entice me.” He chewed the side of his lip, drawing nearer to me.
“Yes, that’s my goal. To entice you. My whole purpose in life,” I fired back, absolutely out of control with my emotions and hormones.
“See? Even now, with your sassy attitude, you are a temptation.” He closed his eyes. “One I can’t afford but goddamn, I want to so badly.”
“Want to what, Luca?”
He shuddered. “I like my name on your lips. It makes me want to break my rules, and I just…can’t.”
“I’m not asking you to, you know?” I said, placing my hands over his. “Being into each other is one thing, but doing anything about it? That’s up to us. I’m nottryingto distract you in any way.”
“I know that, and I’m sorry if it came out like I blamed you.”
“It didn’t. I understand what you meant, but we should probably stop touching like this if we aren’t going to do anything about it. I understand why it’s a terrible idea, but when you touch me,” I said, gulping, “I’d agree to about anything.”
His eyes flared, and his jaw tensed. He stared at me hard, indecision clear on his face before he stepped back and muttered, “Fuck.”
Without his touch, I cooled down and could think more clearly. This was for the best. He knew it too, and after a few seconds of him staring off into the distance, he nodded to himself before getting back into the truck. He started it, gripped the wheel hard, and focused straight ahead. “You get your seatbelt on?”
“Yup.” I clicked it. “All good over here.”
“Great. Perfect.”
After a minute of tense silence, he was back on the highway, and we were en route to his grandma’s. The almost-accident and almost-kiss felt like four hours, but it was only about fifteen minutes. An intense, emotional roller coaster of a quarter hour. It was a bit unfair, if I was honest. Why did I have to have this magnetic pull to someone who was off-limits in so many ways to me?
I snorted, focusing on the farms in the fields as we drove by.
“What was that for?”
“Why do we have to be into each other when we are completely wrong for each other? Why couldn’t I be into a nice unathletic boy? Someone who can kiss me without worrying about the future? A guy who doesn’t play on a sports team with my brother? The list of what who not to go for is like three bullet points, and you meet all of them.”
Luca cleared his throat. “Why do you think an unathletic guy is right for you?”
“Because I know what it feels like to be put second or third all the time. My parents are great, but football is sexier. Dean’s career was more important always. One could say it was because of money, but it doesn’t take away the fact that I came in second. Then, the first guy I really fell for made me feel like an annoyance whenever I wanted to hang out. Baseball always came first, and I understood that because hello! I’m a fucking athlete too, but it wasnot the samebecause I was a girl. And with you, ugh, you look like you’d give me the best time in the bedroom ever, but I cannot go through feeling like second place again. And I don’t blame you—you need to put football first. Your grandma deserves that from you, so please don’t take that the wrong way, but wow, I’m talking a lot. I’ll shut up now.”
Luca didn’t respond, which was probably for the best. I’d gone on a mini rant from his question, and now my face heated in embarrassment. This wasnothow I’d envisioned this trip to visit his grandma. I thought we’d talk about the facility and life and her—not about why we could never give in to our attraction.
With the silence, I refocused myself on the goal: the project. The data backing up my success. The yellow brick road of what I was doing and how it would work or not. That was the thing I loved about Mrs. Gravestone’s class was that every campaign provided data, and even if it didn’t succeed, you learned what hit and what didn’t. It was about experimenting, like what time of day was best to post based on the end-user? Was it Wednesdays at three or Fridays at four?
Yes. This is better.Thinking about school shoved Luca thoughts into the back part of my mind where they should stay, untouched, forever. I locked my mental box. I tossed the key out the window, never to be found again.
Avoiding thinking about Luca in that capacity would be theonlyway to stay safe.
