FromLuca.
If he thinks texting me makes up for being a zombie for five days straight, he’s tragically mistaken.
I throw myself onto the bed and grab the book I was pretending to read when Yana walked in.
But after a few pages, I realize my eyes are scanning words while my brain replays that stupid little notification over and over.
I cave.
Curiosity kills more than cats.
Maybe it’s something important.
Maybe he’s explaining.
My thumb hesitates over the screen, but when I finally open the message, my breath leaves me all at once.
It isn’t short, it definitely isn’t casual, but the worst thing is, it isn’t even meant for me.
‘Matt, I need help. I think I like Tilly. Like, or love actually. I’m not sure. It hurts. The way she scrunches her nose when she laughs, the way her whole face lights up with a smile, the way her eyes crinkle and glow differently—blue and green, a little rebellion from her parents’ genes. I’ve known her for half my life, and somewhere along the way, maybe it was always there, I stopped seeing her as just my best friend. She’s Tilly, the girl who doodles hearts and flowers on wet benches and foggy windows, who carries the same water bottle everywhere, who stops to help turtles or old ladies with groceries, who is kind, fierce, funny... I know every detail about her. Every freckle on her nose. Every little habit. Every piece of her that makes her… her. And I promise I didn’t do that on purpose. I just realised that I know all this, like now. And it’s killing me that I can’t tell her. I want to tell her. I want to scream it so the whole world knows. But I’m scared. What if I lose her completely? She deserves the world. Thinking of her with anyone else makes my stomach twist. But that’s stupid. Liking her like this is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever felt, and the only thing I’m certain of is that I’m too little forsomeone as extraordinary as her. But I can’t help it. I like her. I’ve loved- liked her for longer than I realized, and it’s messing me up.’
My heart actually stops.
He didn’t mean to send it to me. Iknowhe didn’t. But that didn’t make it any easier to breathe.
I stare at his name.
Online.
Does he know? Is he panicking like I am?
My phone buzzes again, this time he’s calling me. My hands shake. Should I answer?
If I ignore him, it’d feel worse later. But if I answered, I might cry, and I’m not acrying in front of peoplekind of person.
You know what.
If he has anything to say to me, he’ll have to do it in person.
I let the phone ring out while I put my hair in a fast bun and walk down the hall.
My heart pounds so hard it hurts.
When I reach his door, I freeze.
What if he looks at me weirdly?
What if I never seemyLuca again—
I knock lightly. Nothing. Knock again. Still nothing.
“Luca?” I swallow. “We need to talk,” I say, my voice barely steady.
There is some shuffling, then the door opens. His hair is a mess, his eyes red and tired.
Not from sleep, though.
He looks wrecked.
