Chapter 34 Matilda
Our Encanto skate the following week won us another first-place title, as did our Singin’ in the Rain skate for the week seven Hollywood Glamour theme.
At the Hollywood Glamour results show, the audience voted us through to the next round, although Nate, Sammy, and their partners weren’t so lucky.
Heading into week eight, only five pairs remained, and there were three weeks to go until the final.
Alice and Asha were still our biggest competition—if we weren’t first on the podium, then they were.
Luca and I still hadn’t discussed the dressing room incident.
Two weeks had passed, and every time we were alone, the air felt thick with everything left unsaid, both of us afraid to admit something had shifted.
Sometimes I wondered if one of us was about to say something, when Luca’s gaze would linger just a bit too long, or when I caught him opening his mouth, only to be interrupted for one reason or another.
“Matilda, are you listening to me?” My mother’s voice echoed through the phone.
“Yes, Mum. I’m just trying to work out whether I have time to rework the choreography.”
“What do you mean? Of course you do.” I put my phone on loudspeaker and placed it on my kitchen counter.
Resting on my elbows, I dragged my hands through my hair.
It was late Sunday evening, Luca had just dropped me home after the results show—and I could really have done with a shower before I climbed into bed.
It was going to be a busy week, and on top of everything else, I had my second therapy session tomorrow.
After weeks of thinking about it, I’d finally bitten the bullet and called her last week—and then went in the following day for my first session.
“It’s a lot of work, Mum. And we’ve only got five days to learn it.”
“So put in some extra hours. You need another win, and the audience will love you performing my Olympic skate—then, if you make it to the final, you can perform it again. I’ve already cleared it with Mark, and he thinks it’s a great idea too. He’s scheduled it all in.”
Of course he has.
Frustratingly, my mother wasn’t wrong. The audience would love it—but I was exhausted. I’d need to stay up tonight to finalize the choreography—we couldn’t perform her exact skate, as it was far too complex—and we’d need extra hours at the rink.
My therapist’s words from our first session pulsed in the back of my mind.
Every time you say yes when you mean no, you teach yourself that your needs don’t matter.
“Mum, we’re not doing the skate. I’d love to, but I’m too tired to re-choreograph it—and I don’t want to do it a disservice.” Not a lie.
“Matilda, I cannot tell you how upset and disappointed I will be if you don’t do this skate.”
“My not doing it isn’t a reflection on you or the skate, Mum. I’m just—”
“I’ve supported you your entire career and you can’t just have a few late nights to repay me?”
My heart stuttered. Doubt crept in.
“I’ll come to your training sessions to help—”
Fuck. That.
“No, no. We’ll do it,” I rushed out. The last thing I wanted was her interrupting our training sessions.
They’d become mine and Luca’s time—I’d come to treasure the hours we spent together on the rink.
There was this familiarity that came from knowing each other’s bodies.
A type of intimacy that we hadn’t had before, but continued to tiptoe around.
“Good.” She didn’t question my sudden change of heart. “I’ll let Mark know that you’ll be doing it for the final, too—should you make it.”
I said good night and excused myself, then let my head fall into my hands with a frustrated groan. I’d been so close. I tried to tamp down the anger—at both myself and my mother. Pulling out my phone, I opened my text messages to Luca.
Me: Want to put in some extra hours at the rink this week? Our choreography is going to be intense.
His response came immediately.
Luca: Absolutely.
That was it, then—time to get planning. I flicked on the kettle and began making a coffee. It was going to be a long, long week.
“Stevens.” A deep yet gentle voice seeped into my consciousness. A warm hand gently squeezed my shoulder. As I came out of my daze, so did the ache in my neck from where it was bent against the arm of the sofa in our dressing room.
“Why are you sleeping here, sweetheart?”
A cloud of confusion clung to my thoughts as I blinked awake to find Luca, cast in light from the TV that was playing in the dim room. I must have fallen asleep. Since the call with my mother a few days ago, I’d been working overtime to ensure the skate was perfect.
“What time is it?” I croaked, sleep coating my words.
“Almost midnight.”
“Jesus.” I sat up, rubbing my eyes. Luca placed a box on the coffee table and took a seat next to me on the sofa. “I must have fallen asleep watching tapes.”
“Why were you watching tapes by yourself?”
“I needed to plan a few things for practice tomorrow.”
“You should have said. I would have stayed with you.”
I shook my head, still dazed from my nap. I didn’t want to inconvenience Luca by making him watch the tapes repeatedly. At least one of us should get a good night of sleep in. As if reading my thoughts, Luca leaned back on the sofa and opened his arms, gesturing me toward the space.
“Come here,” he murmured softly.
I put it down to exhaustion that I didn’t hesitate before I shuffled along and curled myself into Luca’s arms. He was warm and strong, everything I wanted when I was feeling sleepy.
I tried not to think about how right it felt—how the tension between us hadn’t faded.
If anything, it had sharpened. Our glances lingered longer.
Every brush of contact buzzed with something more.
“Wait—how come you’re here?” I asked after a few moments, once my brain had fully woken up.
“I stopped by your apartment earlier and you weren’t there.
When you didn’t answer your phone, I knew you weren’t with Taylor, because you always have it on in case of emergencies—and you didn’t mention you were seeing her this evening.
I sort of panicked a bit,” he said sheepishly.
“I texted Lily and she said you’d probably be here, so I wanted to check everything was OK. ”
Something warm and tender unfurled in me. I tilted my head to study his face. A small smile softened his features, an expression that was becoming more and more frequent.
“How come you stopped by my apartment?”
“I had pizza.”
My lips kicked up to a full smile. “You had pizza?” I asked, disbelieving.
He poked my side and I giggled. “Yes, I had pizza. I got us dinner, OK? I thought you might have wanted some after our busy day. I know it’s not a Friday, but today’s session was intense.”
“Luca, you really didn’t have to do that. That’s completely out of your way.”
“Why won’t you let anyone take care of you? You take care of everyone else.”
Because if I let people take care of me, then I’m no longer useful. No longer needed.
My lips parted, but nothing came out. I didn’t know how to respond. I settled on: “Because you don’t have to.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to,” he said softly.
“Thank you so much,” I said, hoping he knew how sincere I was being.
He might deny it, but he was a caretaker by nature, always looking out for others.
Seeing him was like looking in a mirror—except Luca, never one for false pretenses, didn’t do it out of obligation.
He saved his behavior for those whom he cared about.
My heart danced, knowing I’d somehow made it onto that short list of people.
Could it ever be more?
I agreed with the papers—we weren’t a realistic match. Luca was all but Hollywood royalty, for god’s sake. He’d been spotted leaving bars with literal supermodels draped over him in the past.
But it didn’t stop my heart from wanting. And we couldn’t go on like this and not acknowledge it. As my therapist had reminded me when I’d told her about the situation, Luca had asked for honesty, and, deep down, I knew I was safe to give it to him—even if it scared me.
“What are we doing, Luca?” I sat forward and turned so I could study his face.
“We’re going to eat pizza, Matilda.”
I gave him a look. “You know what I mean.”
His throat bobbed with a swallow as he wiped his palms down his thighs.
“I think we’re finally getting along and enjoying each other’s company.
We’re skating better than ever—and I think, for the first time in a long time, we’re both having fun.
” He cleared his throat and held my gaze.
“I…We both slipped up a few weeks ago. Here in the dressing room. I think we were both acting on this…attraction we obviously have for each other without really thinking about the consequences.”
Although my cheeks burned, I didn’t disagree—as much as I wanted to. We both had huge goals we needed to focus on.
“You’re right. Forget that I even asked.”
“No, you’re right. I’m sorry; I should have brought it up sooner. I don’t want anything to change. We can continue killing it—while having fun.”
“OK,” I said, somewhat content and proud of myself for even asking. Knowing where we stood made it feel like I wasn’t walking around in the dark. “We both need to win—so let’s just pretend that week five never happened.”
He blinked, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes, before he offered a small smile, leaned forward, and opened the box to reveal a huge steaming pizza. And just like that, we were back to Luca and Matilda.
Oh my god. I’ve died and gone to heaven.
“How is this still warm?” I gaped.
“I reordered on my way over here. Don’t worry, I ate the pizza from earlier—it didn’t go to waste.” He tapped underneath my chin gently. “Stop drooling and get yourself a slice.” I took that as my cue to ravish four slices in approximately three minutes.
“How were the tapes going before you took an extended break?” Luca asked as he lounged back, a lazy half-smile tugging at his lips as he watched me eat.
“Good. I just want to make a small tweak to the ending tomorrow and then we should be ready.”
He nodded, studying my face. “And how are you feeling about doing your mom’s skate?”
The slice of pizza froze on the way to my mouth. That was not what I’d been expecting.
“I-I guess I’ve been trying not to think about it.
” I paused, picking a piece of pepper off the pizza.
“I love the skate, and I think it will be great for us. But I hate the way everything always revolves around my mother.” I paused for another second, hesitating to voice it aloud.
“I’ve actually been talking about this in therapy. ”
Luca’s brown eyes softened. “Stevens, you went back to therapy? That’s great,” he said, voice laced with quiet pride.
“Yeah, I’ve only had a couple of sessions, but it’s been good. I feel like she’s helping me think about what I want for once.”
“And what is it that you want?”
You. But I knew I couldn’t say that. So I stuck with another truth. “To teach kids,” I said, without overthinking it. “My mum has always said ‘those who can’t do, teach kids,’ but I just think it’s so rewarding.”
“Then do it.”
“Hmm, maybe one day.” I sat back against the sofa, mirroring Luca’s position. “I’ve been thinking about it—I don’t want to keep living like this, but sometimes I don’t know how to stop. Hopefully therapy will help.”
“That’s great, Stevens.” Luca’s gaze lingered for a beat too long, like he wanted me to know he really meant it. “And you’d be an amazing teacher.”
I hummed in response and took another bite of pizza.
“Have you heard from the producers recently?” I asked once I’d finished my mouthful.
“Jack spoke to them earlier. Apparently, they’re sounding more and more keen by the day. So that’s good.”
I clapped my hands together. “That’s fantastic, Luca. Imagine your mum’s face when you tell her you got the part.” He nodded and looked down, hiding his affectionate smile.
And that’s what we both needed to remember. We both had stakes in winning the show.
Continuing down the path we had been on was too much of a dangerous game.