“Thank you.” He held his cup up in silent cheers before taking a sip. He nodded his head toward the sofa, gesturing for me to follow. We sank into the cushions, and I tucked my legs underneath me, our knees brushing.
We stared at each other for a moment.
“Hey,” I breathed.
“Hey.” His gaze softened and roamed my face. We were caught in each other’s gaze. “I can’t stop thinking about last night.”
“Me neither.”
We watched each other for a few long moments. I had no doubt the look on Luca’s face mirrored mine—an unspoken understanding of where this conversation was going.
“I know.” I steadied my voice but couldn’t hide the watery smile playing on my lips.
“This isn’t even about not wanting a relationship anymore, Matilda. I might have promised myself I wouldn’t do it again after Nancy, but that’s not the case. I want you. But we can’t—it won’t work.” He ran a hand across his jaw before continuing, “I don’t regret a single thing about last night, but…it was reckless. I’m not prepared to put you in a position where you have to sacrifice more of your life than you already have. Hell, we’re not even together and that paparazzo almost—” His jaw clenched, and he turned his head toward the window. “You’ve already been hurt, and we weren’t even together at that point. I can’t risk your safety, especially when I’m not going to be here with you.”
“I know.” I could probably handle the media frenzy, but there was no point getting into semantics.
Even so, I owed him my truth too, even though telling him how I really felt meant I was knowingly pushing him out of my life. An ache spread across my chest as if invisible hands were pulling my heart intwo.
“I get it, Luca.” He opened his mouth as if to say something, but I continued, needing to say it before I chickened out. “I know we can’t do this”—I gestured between us—“again.” I swallowed the emotion, ignoring my racing heart. “I like you, Luca. I like you too much to be anything less than together. We can’t just keep things casual between us until the end of the show. We’re either together, or just friends.”
He nodded, his shoulders curved with silent acceptance, but his eyes continued to search my face. His lips parted for a moment before closing again. He tried once more, but his brow furrowed,conflict written across his face as if he were in a silent tug-of-war with himself.
“You need to know it’s not that I don’t want you. I do. I want you so fucking much that I—” He stopped himself, dragging a palm across his face. He looked to the ceiling as if searching for something. “It wouldn’t be fair to either ofus.”
We held each other’s gaze. There was no awkwardness, just a shared contemplative reflection.
“You are important to me, Stevens. I never thought I’d be saying this three months ago, but you are. And your friendship is important tome.”
“And yours is to me.” Luca challenged me to be myself, to do the things I wanted to do and live the life I wanted.
Luca brought out the best in me, and I’d always be grateful for that.
He placed his cup on the table and clasped his hands in front of him. “Can we be friends?” And then he clarified, “Without benefits.”
“Friends.” We leaned in for a hug at the same time, as if we were in sync.
And although my heart felt tender and bruised, a swell of pride washed over me. It might not have been the outcome I’d longed for, but it was the one that was true to myself.
Being “just friends” with Matildawas proving fucking impossible when I wanted to punch any douchebag who looked in her direction.
Was I always this protective overher?
I’d thought my anger toward Mark was because he was a grade-A asshole. But now, when I saw him around the studio, my blood simmered at the reminder that he’d once had Matilda in all the ways I couldn’t.
It pissed meoff.
Not only had he thrown her away when he hadn’t deserved her in the first place, but he’d also slept with hersister. What kind of arrogant asshole would do that? While I could almost empathize with why Matilda had chosen to stay in Taylor’s life over calling them out for their bullshit, I certainly didn’t have the same virtue.
Her mother’s excuse that she “didn’t want to get involved” was pathetic.
I hated all of them for causing her any pain.
Across the rink, Matilda was chatting away with her ice-skating buddies, and I was hyperaware of the appreciative glances toward her in those fucking shorts. Maybe I’d just hide them all—thatwould solve a lot of problems. Then, I might be able to drag my eyes away from her for more than one minute, while simultaneously stopping myself from feeling like I might snap every time someone looked in her direction.
It was the Tuesday before the final, and anticipation buzzed through the studio. The past two weeks had gone well—the public had loved Matilda’s mom’s skate, and we’d nailed our fire-inspired performance for Elements week. But things felt different between us, as if we were both trying to bury our feelings and pretend they weren’t there. Which…they were.
It was quieter now, with only three pairs left—Matilda and me, Asha and Alice, and Noah and Sophia. The presence of camera crews, producers, and channel staff ensured it was far from a ghost town. Sometimes, the other skaters came down to watch rehearsals, too. They were still being paid until the end of the season, so it killed some time for them to watch us practice.
