Then he leans forward, bracing his arms on his knees, his voice dipping low and intimate. “So… you said yes to River.”
I roll my eyes. “Did you come here to check my calendar?”
“No,” he says, smiling with all teeth. “I came to figure out why you’d waste a night on him… when you could be spending it with me.”
I blink. “You’re serious?”
“Deadly.”
“You—” I stop, shaking my head with a breathy laugh. “You were unconscious a few days ago.”
“And now I’m sitting here, alive and intrigued.”
I narrow my eyes. “Youtormentedme. Played a part in things that—” I swallow. “Things you can’t take back.”
“I never pretended to be good,” he says. “But I’m not here to pretend. I’m here because you’re the most interesting part of this place — and because you lookedinsaneon that roof. Brave. Furious.” His eyes flicker with something sharp. “Beautiful.”
A lump rises in my throat before I can stop it. I look away again. “River doesn’t play games.”
“River doesn’t evenknowthe rules.” Luca leans back, draping one arm over the back of the couch. “But I do. I know every angle, every move. You think he’s going to understand you? See you? He’ll run the second it gets complicated.”
“And you won’t?” I ask.
Luca’s smile fades just slightly. “I’ve already seen complicated. And I’m still here.”
That silence stretches between us, humming like a live wire.
I break it with a dry laugh. “Thanks for the unsolicited commentary.”
He grins again — but there’s something softer at the edges. “Anytime, baby. Just remember — when he inevitably bores you with his acoustic covers and awkward hand placement, you know where to find me.”
And then he’s gone, vanishing down the hall like he didn’t just mess with the entire chemical makeup of my bloodstream.
I’m halfwayto my next class when a hand wraps around my arm and yanks me into an alcove. The hall is crowded, but no one seems to notice. I frown, my hackles are up and I’m ready to fight.
Not this assholeagain.
His jaw is tight and his icy eyes burn into mine. I’m honestly surprised his back teeth haven’t cracked with all that pressure he puts on them.
“What the hell is your endgame?” he spits.
I yank my arm free from his grasp. “Good morning to you, too.”
He takes a step closer, all expensive cologne and fury. “You’ve been here what? Three months? And somehow, you’ve managed to screw everything up. You’re poison.” His eyes narrow.
My spine stiffens. “Excuse me?”
“Do you need me to say it again for you because you’re slow? Did your stepdaddy hit you too many times in the head? Or was it the lack of oxygen when you were on your knees for him?”
I raise my hand and slap him across the face so fast I don’t even realize until after I’ve done it.
“Fuck you.” I move to step aside and walk away from him, but he grabs my arm and slams me back up against the wall.
“You fucking hit me,” he spits in my face.
“You deserve it.” I glare back at him.
We seem to enter some unspoken glaring match that I’m determined to win.
