Chapter 25. In Which, for the First Time in Mathematical History, the Impossible Becomes Possible #2
Distant cheers come from the shoreline below.
I barely register them. I barely remember to breathe. “Me?”
Luca lifts his hand toward my cheek slowly. Uncertainly. Allowing me to say no. “It’s always been you.”
My heart pounds everywhere through me, too loud for me to process my scrambled thoughts or the fireworks that pop and sparkle through the sky.
Always. Since camp began?
This whole time, I swore he had no interest in me. “But you were making fun of me.”
Luca’s face tenses. “When?”
“At the start of camp. With the nicknames. Prince Charming. Charming? Me? All I’ve ever been is a mess.”
“Rory.”
“And you were all ‘fancy seeing you here.’ Like I’m not smart enough to be at brAIN. And—”
“Rory.” Luca brings his other hand to my cheek, holding me like a sandwich. He looks me directly in the eye. “I was trying to flirt with you.”
My own eyes shoot wide open. “What?” I say. Squeak, rather.
“Yeah. I’ve told you how much I look up to you, haven’t I? I think you misunderstood.”
Luca. Trying to flirt with me.
This can’t be true.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” I ask. Still not moving.
He lets go of my cheeks, finally freeing me.
“I thought someone as famous and inspiring and, well, handsome as you wouldn’t return my feelings.
Even if you are in my jacket tonight. Even if you are hanging out with me.
After so many years of feeling like I had no chance with you at our competitions, it would be too much like a picture-perfect movie if you liked me out of nowhere, you know?
What if I’m overthinking? Seeing things I wish were there? ”
Each word Luca throws at me feels like a punch, shattering the fabric of reality around me. Since our competitions. He’s felt this way for years. Not just since camp started.
My enemy, the person I’ve spent years hating, has been flirting with me.
I can’t explain it away. Or convince myself he’s making fun of me or lying. Not this time. He said it too plainly, leaving me no room to doubt or question.
“Oh,” I breathe.
Even though Mom and Dad stress how important my looks are to the company, and clients repeatedly come up and ask for autographs and photos, that’s all felt solely work related.
My dermatology appointments and photo shoots and styling sessions have always been the equivalent of another spreadsheet to complete.
Even when Luca called me “hot” before, it was in response to me explaining Mom and Dad’s marketing tactics for Prince List. Detached from who I really am.
When Luca calls me handsome now, it’s like I’m hearing it for the first time.
Luca’s gaze drifts downward, landing on my lips. “So? Am I? Overthinking?”
As the Prince Kid, I’m expected to answer any question thrown at me quickly and accurately. But this one leaves me more unprepared than ever before.
As I take in the moonlight emphasizing Luca’s soft curls and rounded, adorable nose, my brain overloads with the same assumption he once made—that he could never fall for someone like me.
Luca places a gentle palm on my thigh. His other slowly leads me in by the nape of my neck, bringing our foreheads together. My stomach floods with heat as we hover there, our lips a breath away.
Our chests rise and fall as he waits for my answer—if he’s overthinking, or if I’ll stay.
My body tingles like starlight dances beneath my skin. I have no clue what it means. What any of this means. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. This was supposed to be my last time ever speaking to or interacting with Luca.
I still don’t move.
It’s enough for Luca to know my answer. A corner of his mouth lifts, softly and shyly, just enough to make a dimple pop.
Then Luca kisses me.
The fireworks fade to a blur around us, the realization of what’s happening making me feel like I’m hurtling through the midnight sky.
Luca’s lips are soft. And warm—so warm in the chill of the night.
I kiss him back, letting the sweet woodsy notes of him engulf me.
The roots, the branches, the bark, all captured in golden light.
Each kiss brings one thought closer to the forefront of my mind—Luca wasn’t the only one yearning from afar all these years.
Deep down, I’ve ached for this just as badly.
Luca’s hand slides higher up my thigh, slow and inquiring.
Even after years of waiting, he’s still patient.
Only when my lips part in invitation does he pull me closer and guide me down onto the grass.
As we lie beside each other, I thread my hands through his curls, and he wraps an arm firmly around my waist. Reminding me that, after so many years, he isn’t going anywhere.
This would’ve been exactly what I needed to break Luca’s heart.
I abruptly pull back, a hollowness taking root within me. Every choice that’s led to me lying beside Luca now flashes through my mind. All the reasons I wanted to crush him—to hurt him.
It takes a moment for Luca to blink out of his stupor. His curls are a mess, and his cheeks are adorably flushed. “What’s wrong?”
“We’ve stayed out past curfew.” The words come out slow, like every muscle in my mouth is fighting against them. “Your mentor is intense. You’ll get in trouble.”
Luca takes my hand into his own. His rings are cold against my skin. He tenderly rubs my wrist with his thumb. “Spending tonight with you is worth it.”
The shame is a tidal wave, crashing through me.
I pull my hand out of his grasp, even though doing so makes my heart ache more. I sit back up. Rise to my feet.
“Rory?” Luca whispers, watching me with those beautiful brown eyes. His brow pinches like he fears he’s done something terribly wrong.
He hasn’t. Not at all. That’s what hurts the most.
“I’m sorry,” I say, taking a step back. Then another. “I need to go.”