Chapter 7 Luca
Luca
She’s not here.
Diego catches my eye from across the room and shakes his head. I swallow down my disappointment and slip my hands into my pockets as I make my way to the bar. He places my drink in front of me with a sad smile before moving off to serve other patrons.
I should be celebrating. My dream of playing professional football with the best of the best is coming to fruition, and even better, it’s on the other side of the world to my father. I should be out partying with the boys. Instead, I want to be with her. But she isn’t here.
My eyes wander the room as I down my drink, and a flash of fire engine red catches the corner of my eye. Red Devil sits at the other end of the bar, sipping a mojito. I tap the bar as a signal to Diego to pour me another whiskey before moving along to stand beside my angel’s friend.
“Red,” I greet her.
Her eyes widen as they travel up my bare torso before meeting my masked eyes. “Lu— I mean, hey.” She coughs and takes a deep pull from the straw floating in her drink. “She’s not here.”
“Did she say anything about me?” I ask, hating the desperation in my voice.
Red Devil rakes her teeth over her bottom lip. “Uh… not exactly.”
I grasp at her words. “What does that mean?”
She studies my masked face carefully, and for a moment I get the feeling she knows who I am. “She was going to come tonight.”
“But?”
Diego appears with my drink, but I don’t even spare him a cursory glance, my gaze solely on the devil in front of me.
The devil sighs, dropping her eyes to the bar. “I don’t know. Something scared her off.”
Something scared her off.
Me.
I scared her off.
For the first time, I curse the rule of no phones allowed in the club. “Can you pass on a message for me?”
Red Devil’s masked eyes sparkle with curiosity. “Sure.”
I rub my hand over my chin. “Tell her I’m sorry I pushed the boundaries. She’s the best thing that’s happened to me in the last couple of years, and I’m sorry I screwed it up.”
Her mouth goes slack as she stares at me, probably wondering what the hell I did to her friend and whether or not she should pass on my message.
“I’m leaving Beckford. I was hoping to say goodbye to her face, but can you please tell her…” My voice wavers, and I take a mouthful of my whiskey to steady myself. “Tell her I don’t regret any of it. She gave my life meaning again, and I’ll never forget her.”
With a deep breath, I place my glass on the bar and turn to leave.
“Wait!” Red Devil reaches out and grasps my forearm. “Where are you going?”
“The UK.” My lips tug into a small smile. “Promise me you’ll tell her I won’t forget her?”
Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears as she whispers, “I promise.”
“Thank you.” I lean in and press my cool lips to her cheek before I turn and leave.
As I walk through Euphoria for the last time, I see it for its beauty.
It’s a place where the people of Beckford can come and discover their sexuality in a safe and welcoming environment.
Straight, gay, bi, trans, pan, and everything in between—everyone is free of constraints and judgement when they walk through these doors.
The house is dark when I arrive home after driving aimlessly around Beckford for half the night, not wanting to admit to myself that I was searching for her.
I’ve got nothing to go on other than she’s blonde and roughly my age.
No name, no personal details. It’s like searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack.
I let myself in, thankful I don’t have to deal with George or Gwendoline’s wrath over my dramatics at dinner. Although my father won’t let me get away with embarrassing him like that. Not for long.
Knowing there’s no chance of sleep with the restless energy running through my veins, I head to the games room and grab a beer from the fridge. After I crack it open, I lean against the pool table and guzzle down half the contents while I try to figure out my next move.
My angel not showing up cut deeper than I thought it would.
We may not know each other’s true identities, but I thought we shared a connection that was deeper than sex.
For six months, we trusted each other with our most intimate desires, and over that time, I developed feelings for my mysterious stranger—feelings I thought were dead inside of me after what I went through with Breanna.
While my teammates have spent the last six years wetting their dicks in any willing hole, I’ve only been with two women—Breanna and Angel. Maybe I’m the problem. I get attached too easily and see things that aren’t there.
According to Willow, Breanna was a bitch to everyone, but I never saw it until she broke my fucking heart.
Did I really have rose-coloured glasses on for four and a half years?
Or did I choose to ignore it? After everything she put me through at the end of our relationship, it took almost two years for me to even think about being intimate with anyone else, then I latched onto Angel with an intensity that rivalled my training schedule—clearly, I was dispensable to her though.
Am I just fucking broken? Am I destined to fall for women who don’t want me back?
With a shake of my head, I down the rest of my beer. I’m being ridiculous. Football is my dream career. It’s not like I’m going to give it up to stay in Beckford for a woman who doesn’t even want to see me outside of Euphoria.
Fuck. Why have I let this mess with my head so much?
I lift my gaze to the shelves lining the walls, drifting over the trophies that sit there.
From my under seven participation medals to the ‘most valuable player’ award from Beckford U last season.
Playing international football has been my dream since I was thirteen and I found out Lionel Messi had signed his first contract at my age.
From then on, I had a ball at my feet every waking hour of every day.
Nine years later, I’m one step closer to my dreams, but instead of being excited, there’s a heaviness settling over me.
Shrugging it off, I realise I need to shift my focus from my dick to the fresh new start that’s awaiting me.
I’m twenty-two years old. There’s plenty of time to worry about finding the right woman.
I need to get out from my father’s hold and work on making a name for myself in international football.
I toss my empty bottle into the bin and turn off the light before making my way upstairs.
It’s past two in the morning and the adrenaline of yesterday’s game and Felix’s news is starting to wear off.
I rub a tired hand down my face as I head down the hall towards my room, but a soft whimper from Willow’s bedroom has me pausing outside her door.
Guilt washes over me as I recall our conversation earlier.
There’s no excuse for my ignorance about the way Breanna treated her and other girls when we were dating.
While I used football as a distraction from all the changes going on at home, it was really shitty of me to ignore my stepsister.
She actually seems like a pretty great person—which I would know if I had ever bothered to have a conversation with her in the entire time she’s lived with us.
I’m an arsehole.
Her bedroom remains quiet, and I continue down the hall to mine.
As I’m about to push open my door, a noise catches my attention, and I turn to see Willow frozen in her doorway, wearing a maroon Beckford U t-shirt, her creamy thighs disappearing under the oversized material and teasing me with thoughts of what I might find underneath.
Whoa. Where the fuck did that come from?
Realising we’ve been standing here locked in a stare off, I clear my throat and take a step towards her. “Hey. Everything okay?”
Her head bobs in assent. “Are you just getting home?” There’s a slight quiver in her voice that almost seems like hurt, only that makes no sense—why would she care where I’ve been?
“Uh… yeah. I needed some time to wrap my head around everything.” I rub the back of my neck. “Sorry if I woke you.”
Willow shakes her head. “I couldn’t sleep.” Her cheeks flush with a rosy hue, and she tugs on the hem of her T-shirt as she seems to realise she’s half naked in front of me. “Were you out celebrating?”
I shrug. “Not really.” For some reason, even though we’ve barely spoken in the last four years, I want to talk to Willow. “Can I tell you something?”
She leans against the doorframe and crosses her arms across her chest. “I guess so.”
“I was searching for someone.”
“Who?”
My laugh is humourless. “That’s the thing. I don’t know.” I slide down the wall opposite Willow’s bedroom, legs bent and forearms resting on my knees. “It sounds crazy, but I don’t even know her name.”
“Her?”
“It doesn’t even matter. She didn’t want to be with me anyway.”
Willow’s face pales. “Luca—”
I let out a deep sigh. “I realised something tonight.”
When I don’t continue, her curiosity gets the better of her. “What?”
“I’m scared of ending up alone.”
Her blue eyes meet mine. “Why would—”
“Why would the popular football player be worried about ending up alone?” My lips tug up into a grimace.
“I’m a walking cliché. Everyone I meet wants something from me.
My father wants to live vicariously through me.
Women want to sleep with the Beckford U star footballer so they have a story to tell their friends.
My mates are probably only hanging around for the women. ”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“You’ve met Theo,” I say with a raised brow.
“He’s not that bad,” she counters, but her expression tells me she knows I’m right.
“Sometimes I think it would be so much easier if no one knew who I was.”
Willow’s face scrunches in confusion. “You’ve lost me. Isn’t moving to Muddlestown to play soccer going to do the opposite of that?”
I laugh, but this time it’s genuine. “It’s Middlesbrough,” I correct her.
“And I guess you’re right… if things go well.
But over there, I’ll be a little fish in a big pond.
It will be ‘Luca who?’ not Luca Whitford, captain and star left-winger for Beckford U.
” She studies me with a sceptical look. “What?”
“You’re not…” her voice trails off with a shake of her head, but I’m curious to know what she’s thinking.
“I’m not what?”
“You’re not who I thought you were,” she muses as she lowers her body to the ground across from me, stretching her tanned legs in front of her.
“In a good way or a bad way?”
“I mean, you’re not a complete arrogant arsehole.”
“Thanks, I think?” I chuckle.
Willow ducks her head, her cheeks showing that delicious rosy hue again. “You haven’t exactly been the welcoming stepbrother, you know.”
I wince. She’s right. I was an insolent little shit when she and Gwendoline moved in.
Willow’s mother had been the fifth woman to try taming the infamous George Whitford since my mother lost her battle with depression.
These women had either seen me as a burden on the lavish lifestyle they envisioned or a pawn in trying to lock him down.
Gwendoline’s the first woman Dad dated with a child though, and I figured if I ignored them like I tried to ignore my dad, it wouldn’t be long before he was busted sticking his dick in his secretary and they’d be signing the divorce papers in no time.
To my surprise, Gwendoline seems to have tamed his wandering eye, and he seems to be completely gone on her.
“I’m sorry. It wasn’t personal. My relationship with my father isn’t exactly the greatest, so I wasn’t in a hurry to welcome more people into this already dysfunctional family.”
Her laugh is devoid of all humour. “Takes one dysfunctional family to find another.”
I study her. “You and your mum have your own issues.” It’s a statement not a question.
I’ve seen enough of the way Gwendoline speaks to Willow over the past four years, but I guess I was too selfish and too caught up in my own family drama with George to do anything about it.
“Why do you let her speak to you like that?”
Willow shrugs as she tugs on the hem of her T-shirt. “I mean, she’s not wrong. I could stand to lose a few kilos.” Her cheeks flush with her admission, but her words have me seeing more than red. I’m furious at this woman who is supposed to be her mother.
“Are you kidding me? Willow, you’re beautiful. You don’t need to lose anything. Any guy would be lucky to call you his.”
“I’m not fishing for compliments, Luca. We both know it’s not as if I have guys lining up to date me. I know I’m a little overweight. Does it hurt that I’m not Gwendoline’s idea of the perfect body shape? Sometimes. But I take after my dad’s side of the family. I can’t help my genetics.”
“Don’t let her get in your head,” I admonish her with a shake of my head. “She doesn’t deserve to have that power over you.”
“Why don’t you and your dad get along?” she asks in an attempt to shift the attention back to me. “He seems supportive of your career.”
I snort. “He’s supportive of the prestige and attention he gets from me playing football.
Behind the scenes, he’s choking on jealousy.
It kills him that I’m making his dream my reality.
To tell you the truth, he’s the only reason I’m excited to leave Beckford.
I can’t wait to put a fucking ocean between us. ”
“You never talk about your mum,” Willow says softly. “How does she feel about you moving so far away?”
I blink at her in surprise. Did Dad never tell Gwendoline what happened to Mum? I mean, it’s been fourteen years since she passed, but surely Gwendoline asked where the mother of her new stepchild was or why she wasn’t in the picture?
“Mum died when I was eight.”
She pales, and her eyes widen. “Oh my gosh, Luca. I had no idea. You and your dad never talk about her, and there are no pictures anywhere in the house, so I just assumed… I’m so sorry.”
A wave of guilt washes over me. I never questioned why my father took down all the photos of my mother or refused to talk about her.
I guess I figured it was too painful for him to be reminded of her.
Then, as the years went on and he started bringing woman after woman into our lives, my resentment grew until we stopped speaking about anything that didn’t have to do with football.
Without a word, I climb to my feet. Willow’s blue gaze follows me as I step forward and offer her my hand.
“What—”
“I want to show you something.”
She stares at my hand for a moment before she takes a deep breath and accepts it. I pull her to her feet and lead her down the hallway to my bedroom.