Chapter 22 Luca
I settled on Chinese food.
I knew she’d said she’d eat anything, but I didn’t want to risk wasting time by ordering food she didn’t like, so I quickly opened Instagram, found her profile, and scrolled through to see if she’d taken any pictures with food.
She hadn’t posted much, but she had shared a picture of herself and Lily at a fancy Chinese restaurant in London about a year ago.
I might have slowed my scrolling over the pictures of Matilda at the beach.
Going out alone in public was risky, but I hoped that if everyone was going into the city that night, the press would be distracted by them—or assume we were going, too.
I also swapped cars regularly so I couldn’t be tailed, and I always carried a cap and glasses in the glove compartment, just in case.
It wasn’t foolproof, but better than nothing.
I didn’t like going out, but as we’d been walking to our cars, Matilda’s steps had slowed to a sluggish pace, her shoulders rounding.
A heavy weight had settled in my chest at the slight darkness under her eyes that hadn’t been there at the start of the season.
Sometimes, I forgot that when I went home for the evening, she had to plan our sessions and choreography alongside her other responsibilities.
I couldn’t believe she was even debating going out, especially given that we had the live show tomorrow.
But suggesting I go to her house for dinner? That was absurd, even by old-me standards. On the other hand, I didn’t want her going out to the bar and making herself even more tired for tomorrow’s show.
Exactly, I told myself. Offering to have dinner together is just a way to ensure she’s well rested for opening night. Definitely not because you’re finally coming around to the idea that you might want to spend more time with her.
Matilda made me want to laugh again, to actually live instead of just drifting aimlessly through each day. Her happiness and kindness had snuck up on me, dragging me along whether I liked it or not.
Somehow, I collected the takeout without crossing another human besides the old lady behind the counter, who just handed me my order, gave me a free bag of prawn crackers, and sent me on my way.
I parked in the private underground parking lot—finding some reassurance in the level of security. I still wore the cap and thick-rimmed glasses, just in case I passed someone in the building. I caught the lift to Matilda’s floor, headed down the dark, chic hallway, and knocked on her door.
It swung open, revealing a very comfortable-looking Matilda.
I was getting sick of seeing her long, curvy legs twenty-four-fucking-seven, and I had to stop myself from drooling at her tiny pajama-party outfit: pink floaty shorts and a tight, long-sleeved pajama top. Her hair was damp and loose around her shoulders, and little fluffy socks covered her feet.
“Come in.” She ushered me inside. “Why are you just standing there? Come on.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me in. “Nice disguise, by the way.” She winked over her shoulder as I took the cap and glasses off.
The apartment was warm, cast in a soft light from the lamps around the room. I hadn’t paid too much attention the last time I’d turned up unannounced, too distracted by trying to fix the mess I’d made.
“Sorry for the wet hair. I got back from my neighbor’s about fifteen minutes ago. She’d dropped her dinner on the floor,” she explained as she fluttered around the room.
The apartment was open-plan with a joint kitchen-and-living-room area. Throws, pillows, and rugs decorated the space, making it soft and feminine. She hurried to the small kitchen island separating the spaces, gesturing for me to join her. Two plates and cutlery were already waiting.
“Thank you so much for getting the food; you’re a lifesav—” She stopped, inhaling the scents filling the room. “Is that Chinese food?” Her eyes widened with excitement.
“Yep.” I dropped the bags on the counter and started unpacking the containers.
“My mum would quite literally shit herself if she saw I was eating this the night before the show.” Her eyes flickered over the food, a line deepening across her forehead.
“Do you want to get something else?” I asked.
“Oh my god, definitely not,” she answered, stealing a prawn cracker from the white plastic bag. Her eyes rolled back, and she moaned. I swallowed, my gaze lingering on the column of her throat. “So, what did you get? This all looks incredible.”
“I got a bit of everything. Help yourself to whatever you want.”
She squealed, “Are those Singapore noodles?” She leaned over the counter, pulling the container toward her and inhaling. “Can I have some?”
“You don’t need to ask; take whatever you want, Matilda.”
She clapped and dived in.
“Please sit, and I’ll grab us a drink.” She motioned toward the living area. “Do you want a glass of wine? I’ve got half a bottle of white left, so we could have a glass? Or something else?”
“Wine is great, thank you.”
She followed me to the sofa, where I’d placed our plates on the coffee table. She passed me a glass and held hers up. I raised an eyebrow.
A light blush coated her cheeks, and her smile deepened, revealing a small dimple. I rolled my eyes and gave in, holding my glass to hers with a gentle ding. We both took a slow sip but maintained eye contact, neither of us wanting to break the spell first.
I was just grateful her eyes were now soft and relaxed, replacing the vacant, dull ones from earlier.
Matilda was first to look away, placing her glass back on the table and collecting her plate alongside the TV remote.
We both took a few mouthfuls of our food in comfortable silence. Well, I was comfortably silent. Matilda moaned with every mouthful, as if she were partaking in an orgy.
“OK, I saw this beach advertised the other day and thought you’d love it,” she interrupted the quiet. I raised my eyebrows, not surprised by her random subject choice. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, loaded the video, and turned the screen to face me.
“Apparently, it’s amazing for surfing, so I thought it would be right up your alley.” She smiled eagerly.
“How’d you know I like surfing?”
“Because I stalked your social media, obviously.” An embarrassed laugh burst out of her. “And you said you liked to go to the beach in L.A., and doesn’t that go hand in hand with surfing?”
I wasn’t active on social media. I found the whole thing tedious and unnecessary. But Jack posted the odd photo for me, just to give the press some controlled collateral to gossip about.
“It looks nice, right?”
I passed her phone back to her, and she placed it on the coffee table. It did look beautiful, a wide sandy beach and big waves.
“It does. Is it far?”
“A couple of hours.”
“Shall we go?” Why am I asking her that?
“Really?” Her voice was hopeful. “I try to drag Lily out as much as I can, but she’s so busy with work that when we have the day together, we do something locally.”
“It would be a good opportunity to get photos for socials,” I added hastily.
That’s better. I invited her to increase our chances of winning the show.
The tension eased in my stomach.
“Oh, good idea!” She grabbed her phone and flicked through. “Did you want to go on Sunday? We could go early in the morning and make it back for the results in the evening.”
I checked my phone calendar and confirmed that I was free.
“We can post something on social media, and hopefully it will encourage people to vote for us.”
I nodded, unsure of what to say about the fact that I’d initiated our day out together. I chose to push the thought from my mind.
“Did Jack send you the recording from this week?” I changed the subject.
“He did.” She connected her phone to the TV screen so we could see the video better.
Scrolling to today’s recording, she tapped to open it, turned the phone horizontally, and clicked play.
“It was your fault,” I said and glanced away from the screen for a moment, as we rewatched the lift over and over again.
Matilda wiped away a tear, her face still glowing with laughter.
She playfully kicked her foot out and laughed, but I caught it with one hand to avoid it connecting with my stomach. I raised an eyebrow.
“It was not! I can’t believe you’re blaming me because you’re too weak to hold me in the lift!
” She replayed the recording from her phone.
It was only a tiny wobble, not a disaster but not ideal either.
It hadn’t been Matilda’s fault, but I didn’t hate the sound of her laugh, so I continued teasing her.
“I can hold you fine. You were just wriggling too much.”
“Oh, as if!” She was full belly-laughing now. “It’s one of the easiest lifts in ice-skating. I think we both know who the real issue is here.”
“Someone’s cocky.”
Her eyebrows shot up so high they were almost in her hairline, her mouth slightly agape. Snatching her foot back, she stood and gestured to the space. “Come on then, big guy. Let’s put it to the test.”
I sat back on the sofa, feigning disinterest. “Put what to the test?”
“Let’s do the lift now.” She bounced slightly on her toes as if readying herself for a bout in a boxing ring or something equally ridiculous.
“We’ve done the lift a thousand times in the studio. I know I’m not the problem.”
Seeing the outrage on her face was the closest I’d come to truly laughing in a long time.
“Up! Now!” she said, walking behind the sofa and pushing on my back. I let her shove me up and drag me to the center of the room. She nudged the coffee table to the side and cleared more room for the lift.
It looked like a simple lift, but it was hard off the ice because there was no momentum. On the ice, it required much more balance.
“You ready?” Her voice bubbled with infectious laughter, though she bit her lip, trying to hide her smile.
Matilda stood a few steps ahead of me, facing away. Her hair was completely dry now, cascading down her back in waves. I attempted to keep my eyes above her waist.
“Five, six, seven, eight…”
She step-ball-changed backward and spun toward me. As we had a hundred times before, I grabbed her waist and lifted her quickly into the air.
I held her for a second before looking up; neither of us could hold it in longer.
We burst into laughter.
Not prepared for our hysterics, my arms weakened as her entire frame shook and her giggles bounced off the walls.
She slipped, knocking the wind out of me as my feet slid from under me.
We tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs, her full weight landing on top of me.
And through it all, we couldn’t stop laughing.
It felt fucking good.
“You are an absolute idiot,” she gasped out between giggles. Matilda pushed herself up, ready to climb off me.
“At least we now know who the real problem is in this partnership.” A grin spread across my face, and Matilda paused in her ascent, her eyes soft and admiring.
She remained on top of me, her hair forming a curtain around our faces, which were only inches apart.
Her dimples deepened as she smiled wider, pleased with whatever she discovered in my expression.
This smile was just for me. It was the brightest, most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
My gaze drifted to her lips, caught by their fullness and how they seemed to invite me in. They were the most perfect shade, like soft pink skies before the golden hour of sunrise.
Her tongue flicked out and moistened them, and, for a moment, her hips brushed against mine—so subtle I almost missed it.
But I didn’t.
I wanted to kiss her so fucking badly.
Where on earth did that come from?
A familiar ping sounded through the TV—Matilda’s phone must still have been mirrored. We both looked up at the text notification.
Lily: Babe, you’ve needed to get laid for the past year.
That snapped me the fuck out of whatever trance I’d fallen into.
What was I thinking, joking around and laughing with Matilda as if we were anything more than professionals working together? Muddying the waters between us was a sure way of causing unnecessary drama.
I grabbed Matilda’s waist, lifted her to the side, and deposited her next to me. Pushing up from the hard floor, I rubbed the nape of my neck and stood.
What the fuck has gotten into me this evening?
There was a big difference between coming over to ensure Matilda didn’t tire herself out for tomorrow and having her face inches from mine.
She stood quickly, her smile replaced with the one she offered to everyone else. I wanted to rewind the last minute like the tapes and do it again, but I couldn’t and wouldn’t.
I would not cross that line with Matilda.
“I need to go.” The sliver of darkness from the early autumn evening slipping through the drawn curtains suggested it was too late for me to be there still.
“Why?” Her question hung in the air, catching me off guard. I had expected Matilda to accept my statement and wish me a good night.
While I’d been lost in my thoughts, Matilda had disconnected her phone from the TV and thrown it on to the sofa. She stood with her arms tightly folded across her chest, her expression a mix of determination and uncertainty, as if she couldn’t quite believe she’d asked, either.
“It’s late, and we have a busy day tomorrow.” Now look who’s lying.
“Is that the only reason?” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
I paused before answering. “No.”
We stared at each other for a long, weighted moment.
“But I do need to go.”
She lowered her chin in a slow nod, silently accepting.
Unable to tempt fate for a moment longer, I broke eye contact.
I quickly collected the empty containers and trash, dumping them into a bag that I would drop at the garbage cans on my way down. I focused on my movements instead of my thoughts.
Stealing another glance at her, I asked, “I’ll see you tomorrow at eleven?”
“Of course, I’ll see you then. Night, Luca.”
She trailed after me to the door, reached past me, and pulled it open gently.
As I climbed into bed later that evening, her tight-lipped smile was the last thing I saw before I fell asleep.