Chapter 18. In Which My Enemy Calls Me Hot, and I Almost Eat It on a Slab of Ice #3
“Sorry, that was a bit much—” I cut myself off, processing where we stand now. In the middle of the rink, far away from the boards. I’m no longer holding Luca’s hands.
I’ve been moving alongside him independently.
“Huh?” I say, glancing at my skates. My balance warps, and I slip right into Luca’s chest.
“Whoa-hoh!” Luca grips my forearms to hold me up. His eyes gleam in the fluorescent lights. Up close like this, it’s so easy to make out every one of his thick, long lashes. Every freckle on his cheeks. “Rule number one on the ice: Never look down. That never ends pretty.”
I blink at him, struck by how his chest rises and falls against my own. How his breath leaves on a wispy cloud in the cold air, mixing with mine. How I feel like I’m on fire, even though I should be freezing.
A very not normal reaction.
Okay, so, maybe I do think Luca is physically attractive like everyone else does.
So what? This is just an ignorable involuntary physical response caused by my body because of the other body in front of me.
It’s acting upon that closeness, or developing real feelings because of it, that go against Mom and Dad’s rules.
“You’re a good teacher,” I mutter, trying my best to act normal.
“It was all you. You really zone out when you talk about your passions.” Luca gives me another effortlessly playful wink. The longer we’ve been on the ice, the more unruly his dark hair has become, one curl hanging perfectly over his forehead.
I wonder if I look the same.
I straighten my posture, then my outfit, tensely pressing out the wrinkles in my shirt just in case. “Okay, you’re right. I do like talking about that stuff. But there’s no point. I’m basically programmed by my parents. Which isn’t bad. But it’s pressure, I guess.”
“What do you mean by ‘programmed’?”
I’m tempted to tell him, even though it’ll leave me feeling my most vulnerable yet. But the way Luca is concentrating on me right now … He’s more open and intrigued than ever before. Vulnerability strangely seems to be working on him.
I’ll open up just this once. Only a little.
“I didn’t realize the weight of their expectations until I screwed up at the symposium,” I say.
“Well, I guess I did back when I told them I was a boy, and their first questions were about how it would affect Prince List. That made it a bit obvious. But telling them about that never felt like I’d done something wrong.
That symposium video, though? It definitely did.
It made me realize that I feel a lot of things I do are wrong. At least in their eyes.”
“That sounds really rough.” Luca’s frowning.
“It’s just life, I guess.” I shrug, trying to brush off his concern.
“My life isn’t like that,” he says softly.
I could tell Luca that I know. I could explain that, someday, I hope my life is like his. That it will be once The Plan is fixed.
But Mom taught me young to always expect your words, even in the most private of spaces, to be reported on publicly. Luca could tell the press that Prince List’s son desperately wants to escape the shackles of his own family.
That’s the last thing our PR team needs.
“That’s why I’m at brAIN now,” I add, steering the conversation the way I want it to go. “It was the only place that would accept me after that.”
“For real?”
“Yeah.” Just talking about the memory causes a concoction of regret and shame to lurch through me. “I’m still sorry, by the way. Really. You’re…”
“What?” No judgment comes off Luca’s voice. Only patience.
Despite his sincere tone, Luca doesn’t offer me concrete proof that he won’t tell anyone how I feel or use that against me at brAIN.
Luca seemingly hasn’t been going around talking about the smoothie incident, either, though. He’s been leaving the campers who don’t know about it in the dark. Is he collecting multiple strikes for a final blow?
And if he isn’t, why not?
“You’re everything I’m supposed to be,” I decide to say honestly.
“You’re the role model that I’m supposed to symbolize.
But lately, I don’t feel like a role model.
I keep losing, but I’m supposed to be a winner.
That’s the only way I can preserve Prince List’s status.
” A laugh leaves me, short and bitter. “To be honest, your face should be on my parents’ posters. Not mine.”
The moment the words are out, my heart caves. It’s too honest. Too raw.
I went too far.
Yet a weight simultaneously lifts off my shoulders. One that’s been there for years.
It feels surprisingly good.
Luca’s forehead creases with worry. That’s when I register how still and silent I’ve gone. He reaches toward my arm but pauses halfway. With a shy throat clear, he rubs the back of his head. “Be my assistant. During skate night.”
The topic change throws me off a bit. “You’re sure?”
“It’ll be fun. That’s what you need.”
Only minutes ago, I would’ve done whatever it took to ensure Luca attended the disco skate night. But fun triggers a reflex in me to vomit and run.
“All right,” I say anyway, shoving it all down. “I’ll help you.”