Chapter 9 #2
“Why don’t you come outside for a minute?” Moreno says, gesturing for everyone to follow him down the main corridor and to the front entrance.
The house is massive. It’s three stories and clearly well-kept. It could easily house several families inside, which, apparently, it does, since Nova and Luca grew up together.
I find that a bit strange, especially since they’re not related.
At least that’s what Luca had mentioned.
But maybe Moreno and Paige are related to his parents and Nova is adopted?
I try to wrap my head around their family tree and then finally give up.
What’s the point? Why does it even matter? If it works for them, so be it.
We head to the front door, and Nova yanks it open.
Moreno hands Nova a set of car keys to a two-door silver hatchback. “Happy Birthday.”
“You guys got me a car!”
“Glad I didn’t have to follow that,” Luca whispers into my ear.
Nova is seated across from me on her bedroom floor, an array of nail polish with dozens of choices ranging from glitter to gel and everything in-between. I’ve finished painting my fingers and toes.
The boys are situated on her bed above us. I grab Luca’s leg and wiggle down his sock.
“What are you doing, Harper?” He glares at me because he must already know what I’m planning on doing.
“Giving you a pedicure. Relax,” I say and grin at Nova. “Which do you think is his color?” I wrangle two bottles in one hand, blue and purple, showing it to Nova.
“Definitely purple,” she says with a giggle.
“Hell no!” Luca growls at me, and my fingers fumble with the nail polish. Thankfully, both bottles are closed tight.
My fingers stay firmly wrapped around his ankle. “So, blue it is.”
“Just let them do it,” Ashton says, gesturing at the two of us on the floor. “It’s not like anyone looks at your feet.”
“I look at my feet!” Luca says, as if that’s explanation enough to stop us.
Nova finishes the last of her toes and points at Ashton. “What color will it be?”
He exhales softly, and his gaze peruses the colors laid out on the floor. “Color my toes the same as the Narwhals.” He beams proudly.
“Teal and white. Got it.” Nova grabs the two colors. “I’ll paint your toes teal and then add some white highlights.”
“You do realize no one is ever going to see this?” Luca says, staring pointedly at Nova.
“I know, that’s why you’re getting a manicure next,” I say.
Luca blows out a puff of steam. “Fine, but you'd better be able to spell out Narwhals on my fingernails.”
Nova’s eyes light up. “Oh, I can definitely do that!”
Ashton’s smiling and points at me. “No, Harper has to do his nails. You’re doing mine. Fingers and toes, baby.” He wiggles his fingers at Nova, giving in to her delight.
“You’re not going to fight me?” Nova stares up at him, surprised.
Ashton shrugs. “No reason; I’m secure in my masculinity,” he touts, smirking at Luca.
“Jackass.” Luca throws up his middle finger at Ashton.
An hour later, after the nail polish is put away and Nova is yawning but fighting sleep, we’re shown to the guest rooms for the night.
Luca leads me to the guest room. “I’ll be right next door if you need anything,” he says, pointing at his room.
“Is that your childhood bedroom?” I ask, pausing in the hallway, wanting to catch a glimpse inside.
“It is, but there really isn’t anything of mine in there anymore,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll show you,” he says and leads me into his bedroom. It feels cold, although the temperature is ambient. The walls are bare and painted a crème that makes the room feel even more bland.
There aren’t any pictures on the dresser in the far corner of the room. The nightstand houses a digital clock. The room looks like someone forgot to decorate it.
“This was your bedroom?” I ask. There’s no sign of Luca, except for his duffel bag seated on the mattress. No evidence that he’s ever played hockey. No trophies or ribbons. No posters. Nothing that screams this was ever a teenage boy’s room.
“Like I said, there’s not anything of mine in here anymore.”
It’s sad, and my heart breaks as I reach for his hand. It’s almost like they had him erased.
Meanwhile, my bedroom at home still has the framed prints autographed by one of my favorite authors.
I have a jewelry rack hanging on my wall beside the door with my necklaces, and my dresser has my rings and earrings safely secured and waiting for me when I come home to visit.
There are posters hanging on my walls, featuring my favorite music artists and even a signed movie poster from when I went to the local comic book convention last summer.
There’s absolutely no trace of Luca in his childhood bedroom, and honestly, it makes me sad.
“Did you take everything with you when you moved out?” I ask. I’m trying to make sense of the situation. He lives in an apartment; I’m in the dorms. He has a lot more space, his own bedroom, while I’m forced to share my space with Quinn.
“Hardly. Mom saved a couple of boxes of my stuff and had it put into the attic.”
I wave my hand at the bare room. “Was this Dante’s idea?” I ask, assuming his father is to blame. Tonight, I’ve heard the way he speaks about him, to him, and it’s obvious they don’t get along. I’m just not sure why.
He laughs under his breath. It’s a dark laugh, filled with anger and pain. “You could say that.”
“What do you mean?”
“He wanted me erased.”
“Did something happen between you and him or…” my words trail off. Perhaps he never wanted a child at all.
He glances away, unwilling to meet my stare. “That’s a story for never,” Luca says. He exhales a breath after a beat and finally turns toward me. “Let’s get you ready for bed, in your room. Unless you want to sleep with me?”
My breath catches in my throat.
I reach for his hand, intertwining our fingers together, pulling him closer to me.
There’s a sadness, a coldness enveloped around him, and I want to ease it all away.
He’s clearly hurting, and I don’t want him to be in pain.
“Can I sleep in here with you?” I ask, my voice soft, tentative. I’m almost afraid his offer was a joke, and he’s going to tell me to go back into my room tonight for bed.
Luca leans in, pressing his forehead against mine. The heat of his breath, his touch, the feel of his energy surrounding me is enough to make me warm and tingly.
He untangles our hands, only so that he can touch my face. Cupping my cheek, he stares into my eyes, waiting to kiss me.
What is he waiting for?
“I think I can make room for you in my bed,” Luca says with a wry smile and pulls me closer against him.
I can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he’s pressed tight. The backs of his fingers graze my cheek, staring at me as though he’s memorizing every detail.
“Are you going to kiss me or just stare?” I grin, smiling up at him cheekily.
“I could watch you every morning and every evening, as easily as the sun rising and setting.”
I nudge him with my shoulder. “Does that line work on all the girls?” I ask.
Luca smiles and shrugs. “Don’t know, I’ve never tried it on anyone else.
” One hand remains on my cheek, his touch like a sizzle of electricity, the hum vibrating through me as he caresses my skin.
His other hand slides down to my hip, the pads of his fingers soft and firm as he grazes my hip with his touch.
“Believe it or not, Harper, I’m not the player you think I am. ”
His gaze stares into me, and I feel the air stolen from my lungs.
I don’t know what to say.
“I haven’t so much as thought about anyone since I met you,” he whispers and presses a soft, chaste kiss to the corner of my lips.
I lean forward, my breath heavy, my lips parting, wanting to kiss him.
But he seems to have other ideas.
“That can’t be true,” I whisper, trying to think back to the girls who come up to him in class and in the hallway. Has he flirted with any of them back?
“I swear it is; even Ashton knows I’ve been celibate this year. I haven’t brought another girl into my room.”
A smile crosses my face. “Except for Nova,” I say, reminding him of that time they threw a house party and I caught the two of them coming downstairs together.
“She doesn’t count. She’s a sister to me, you know that,” Luca says and stares at me, making sure I realize that he’s been honest with me, and perhaps even vulnerable.
“I see it now,” I say and scrunch my nose up at him. “No more talking about your sister tonight.”
“Fine with me.” He closes the distance, his breath mingling with mine as he takes his time, kissing me softly and slowly on my nose, my cheek, and then my chin.
“Oh my gosh, will you just kiss me already?” I grumble and lean up on my tiptoes to crash my mouth onto his.
The man knows how to tease a girl. He probably gets off on it, making me squirm, all anxious and waiting for him.
He chuckles softly and pulls back, enough to stare into my gaze as both hands wrap around my hips. “I’m going to have to teach you some patience,” he chides proudly, before letting his lips hover just above mine.
His fingers dance softly and aimlessly over my hips, inching the sweatshirt of his up just slightly so his touch is over bare skin.
I lean into him, craving more as he teases me endlessly, and it seems we’re only getting started.
“I don’t need patience,” I mutter and lean in for the kill, or rather, kiss, in this case.
He pulls his back slightly out of reach, a smug look on his face. His hands still tease my hips, keeping my lower half firm against him, his touch tantalizing as his fingers skim the waistband of the sweatpants that I’m wearing.
“But I think you do,” Luca says with conviction. There’s a twinkle in his gray eyes. But behind those eyes, there’s something darker lingering, heavier, fueled with want and need. “Your body is begging for me, but until your lips do the same, you’re not ready for me.”
My mouth drops, shocked.