I nod. “Yeah.”
He squeezes my hand once — not lingering — then disappears through the doors.
Luca watches him go. Then looks back at me.
“You told him, didn’t you?”
I blink. “What?”
His lollipop shifts from one side of his mouth to the other. “Noah. You told him it wasn’t him.”
My eyes narrow. “How the hell did you know that?”
“I told you,” he says, grinning now. “It’s how you look at people.”
I fold my arms. “You’re guessing.”
“I’m not.” He kicks off the railing and steps closer. “You don’t even realize you do it. You look at the people you want differently than the people you’re trying to figure out.”
I stare at him.
He continues, voice lighter but not unkind. “You were always kind to Noah. Careful with him. Curious, even. But you never looked at him like you were drowning.”
“And I do that with the others?”
He tilts his head, considering me.
“Only a couple of us,” he says eventually, and for once his grin dims. “But yeah. Sometimes it’s like you’re not even aware it’s happening. You just… ache toward them.”
The words land harder than they should.
Luca shifts his weight and offers the faintest shrug. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. Or confused. I just… notice things. It’s what I do.”
He leans back against the railing again, gaze flicking up to the sky. “You know,” he says, “there was a version of this story where I thought maybe if I kept things light and easy and fun, you’d fall for that instead of the messier stuff.”
I glance at him, heart tight.
“But I see you now,” he says, meeting my eyes again. “And I get it. I really do.”
There’s no bitterness in his voice. Just certain, Luca-style truth.
Luca doesn’t say anything when we start walking.
He falls into step beside me like he always does, like we’ve done this a hundred times before. The quiet between us feels different now. No tension. No open-ended questions. Just something settled,gentle.
When we reach my room, the door’s already slightly open.
Inside, Jace is leaning against the far wall, arms crossed. Still in his fitted long-sleeve, his watch glinting in the low light. His expression is unreadable, but the second his eyes meet mine, I feel it in my chest.
That weight again. That pull.
Luca sees him too, and he doesn’t say a word. Just glances at me, then at Jace, and gives me the smallest, almost-smile. No teasing this time.
“Night, Ashthorne,” he murmurs, stepping back into the hall.
The door closes behind me.
Jace doesn’t move. Neither do I.
