Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Luca: Fair. But just so we’re clear, this conversation doesn’t leave the app. I like my face the way it is—unbroken.
Me: You want this to stay a secret?
Interesting.
I like it.
Luca: No need for drama over nothing.
Nothing?
I laugh, a full, belly-deep laugh, not sure if I should be insulted by his insinuation that matching with me amounts to, well–nothing. The dog glances over at me, ears twitching, before deciding he’s not interested in whatever has me so amused.
Me: NOTHING? Wow. I’m SO flattered.
The dots pop up again, and I can practically feel his hesitation through the screen.
Luca: That’s not what I meant. You know that.
Me: Do I? Because it kinda feels like you’re saying matching with me is no big deal.
Another pause, longer this time.
Then,
Luca: It’s a big enough deal that I’m risking Gio’s wrath to talk to you behind his back. How’s that for flattery?
I bite my lip, trying not to smile too hard. Damn him for being smooth.
Me: Not bad. But you’re still on thin ice.
Luca: Good thing I’m used to skating on it.
I groan, equal parts annoyed and charmed. “Terrible,” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head.
So why is flirting with him making me tingle all over?
Guh!
Luca: Honestly, I’m surprised to see you on here. You’re way too pretty to be single.
Me: What makes you think I’m single?
Luca: You’re on a fucking dating app?
Oh. Good point.
And that mouth of his…
Who would’ve known? Luca looks like a choir boy—clean-cut, polite, the kind of guy who probably thanks the refs after every game—but apparently, there’s a little edge to him.
He follows up his previous text with:
Are you on this app to flirt or to find a serious relationship?
I blink at the question, taken aback by how straightforward it is. I nibble on the inside of my cheek.
Me: For a relationship. I’m tired of being single. You?
Luca: I want a family and I’m not getting any younger.
I exit out of our chat to give his profile another glance—gawking at his shirtless photograph, as if I’m seeing him for the first time.
Who even is this version of Luca?
The Luca I know is quiet, always polite, has a vaguely broody vibe that makes you forget he’s ridiculously attractive. But this? This is something else. The smirk, the shiny washboard abs, the everything.
Me: You look like the kind of guy who wants a white picket fence.
I smirk as I hit send, picturing his reaction.
The dots pop up again, and my pulse quickens.
Luca: What does that mean? That I look domestic?
Me: I did NOT say that…
Luca: You implied it.
Me: No. You do NOT look domestic. Happy now?
The pause is longer this time, and I start to wonder if I’ve actually annoyed him. But then his message pops up:
Luca: I’ll let it slide. For now. But only because you’re cute.
Me: CUTE?
Luca: Sorry. I meant smoking hot. You’re a real smoke show, Nova Montagalo.
My stomach does the stupid little flip again, and I glance over at Gio the dog, who’s now awake and staring at me like he can sense my internal chaos.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I mutter, setting the phone down on the couch for a second. “Stop judging me, Gio is not going to find out about this.”
This…
Is dangerous.
Luca is way too easy to talk to. And way too good for my peace of mind.
I pick the phone back up, staring at the chat. Should I keep going? Let this conversation turn into something, though it’ll probably end in disaster? Or should I delete the chat right now and save myself the headache?
Gio yawns as if to say, You’re overthinking this, idiot.
I glance at Luca’s profile again, lingering on the easy smile in one of his photos. This doesn’t have to mean anything, right? It’s harmless flirting.
But now I know he thinks I’m smoking hot.
I bite back a grin, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. Flirting with Luca Babineaux feels like walking into a trap I can totally see coming—and yet, here I am, taking another step forward.
Me: You think I’m a smoke show? Sounds like you’re starting to have a thing for me, Babineaux.
I tease.
Okay FINE.
I’ll admit it, I’m fishing for compliments. Are you happy now?!
Luca: Starting to? You’re funny. I’ve had a thing for you for years…
My jaw drops.
“WHAT?” I blurt out, scaring the shit out of the dog, settling back onto his blanket with a huff. He hates me.
The dog, not Luca.
Apparently.
I stare at the screen, reading and rereading the message at least three times to make sure I didn’t hallucinate it.
Years?
Since when!?
My thumbs hover over the keyboard, but for the first time all night, I have no idea what to say. My brain is too busy replaying every interaction I’ve ever had with Luca, searching for clues I may not have picked up on in the past. I wrack my brain going through the memories I have of him.