Chapter 25 Matilda
We’d outdone ourselves, apparently. The media frenzy following the speculation around our relationship status was intense. There were close-ups of our interview touches and hundreds of replays of when I’d jumped into Luca’s arms.
One photo, in particular, stopped me in my tracks—Luca beaming down at me after our performance.
He was absolutely breathtaking, his smile like something plucked straight from a golden-age Hollywood film.
It was the first time I’d seen him truly, really smile, and it hit me like a tidal wave.
I swear, in that moment, I almost forgot how to breathe.
Surprisingly, he was unbothered by the media.
After that night’s show, when I’d asked him if it brought back bad memories of his last few years in America, he’d simply said it was worth it.
I guessed it was a different kind of press from what he was used to.
I’d never been splashed across gossip websites, and while it added another level of anxiety to my day-to-day life, it ensured we had a better chance at winning.
The Dirty Dancing producers had also called Luca to say that they were happy with his progress, and, among her skating pointers, my mother was now showering me with compliments on how well we were being received by the public, so we couldn’t complain.
We were hoping that our trip to the beach before the Sunday night results show would only help to fan the flames of excitement.
We stopped at Vinnie’s and the shops before leaving to stock up for the journey.
While we were queuing, Jack called to say we’d been invited on to the TV channel’s morning show the next day.
Every week, they had someone from the competition sit on the channel’s Monday show, and, as I’d never been asked, it felt huge.
My partners from the previous four years had been more than happy to miss out on the extra press, not wanting to stir any rumors or play into the public’s hands.
But for me and Luca? It worked perfectly.
As I sat in the passenger seat, I unwrapped a Starburst and passed it to Luca. I wasn’t sure if he actually enjoyed eating sweets or was just appeasing me, but, either way, happiness swelled inside me.
I snapped a quick picture of him as he sipped his coffee.
The photo was pretty drool-worthy: dark tousled hair, a light smattering of stubble covering a sharp jawline, long dark lashes, and a long-sleeved T-shirt rolled up to reveal muscular forearms. He had one hand on the wheel and one on the coffee, the road in the background.
“Can I post a picture of you on my story?” I turned my phone to show him the photo.
“That’s what we’re here for.” We’d spoken a bit more about getting some pictures to post on social media just to cause chaos after last night’s show. I had enough followers on Instagram that the media were bound to pick it up.
“Perfect.” I added it to my story, not bothering to caption it; the picture spoke for itself. Then another thought sprang to my mind, but I voiced it before it could fester. “Will there be paparazzi at the beach?”
They followed Luca like a pack of rabid dogs, so I wouldn’t have been surprised, especially given the recent buzz around our relationship.
“No.” A crease formed between his brows as he continued. “I told Jack to give them a fake leak, so today they’ll be swarming Bond Street looking for us shopping.”
Warmth tickled through my veins not only at how Luca had taken care of the situation, but that we’d got the whole day to ourselves.
The picture I’d posted on my story was discreet enough that they’d never guess where we were, but I made a mental note to save posting any other photos until we were safely back at home.
The massive console screen with directions announced we were only thirty minutes away.
We’d only been in the car for about an hour as the roads were unsurprisingly quiet, given the miserable weather.
Rain had splattered against the windscreen intermittently throughout the journey, so we would probably be the only idiots at the beach.
Luca hadn’t said anything about postponing due to the weather, so neither had I.
The drive gave me time to reflect on how much had changed since our argument.
It had become easy talking to Luca over the last week because, like with Lily, I felt I could speak freely.
Words tumbled out without hesitation because I never found a trace of judgment in his eyes.
The longer we spent together, the more the tight knot of anxiety I carried loosened.
I found myself less and less obsessively worrying about whether my opinion was the right one. I felt like myself.
And I thought Luca enjoyed talking to me, too. The one-word answers had disappeared, replaced by full sentences and even the occasional laugh. Sometimes, when he told me a story, I’d even catch this tiny spark in his eye, one that had never been there in the first few weeks of training.
We arrived at the beach; as I’d predicted, only a few surfers and two cars were in the car park.
“Are we crazy to be at the beach in the rain?” I turned in my seat to look at Luca across the console.
“We’re already going to be wet from the sea,” he pointed out.
“I guess you’re right.”
We made our way out of the car and toward the toilets and changing rooms to the left of the car park. There was a small shop that rented surfboards and served hot drinks. The smell of fresh coffee and sea salt floated through the air, wrapping around me like a tight hug after a long day at work.
Which was ruined by a big sign on the toilet door—Out of Order.
My head snapped to Luca and he just shrugged, flopped his wet suit and swim shorts over the wooden fence, and removed his T-shirt in one smooth movement.
Oh my god, the abs on this man.
I hadn’t seen anyone sculpted quite as beautifully as Luca before.
He turned, his fingers sliding underneath the waistband of his jeans, and I squealed.
“What?” Luca’s head flicked over his shoulder, brow furrowing as his movements paused.
My eyes widened as I looked around the empty beach and whispered, “You can’t get changed here!”
“Why? There’s no one around.” His gaze searched the beach, revealing no paparazzi or crowds of fans.
“I’m here!” I whisper-shouted again as he moved to the front of his jeans and unbuttoned them. His back was equally as delicious as his front, all broad and muscular. His jeans were already hanging dangerously low, and I was struggling to drag my eyes away.
He smirked over his shoulder, a small dimple creasing his face boyishly. “No one’s forcing you to watch, Stevens.”
Caught red-handed.
I spun around on a small squeak, but despite my best efforts, I caught a flash of his bare, sculpted cheeks.
Heat crawled up my neck as I stared at the wall of the toilets.
After a minute or two, a pair of hands landed on my shoulders and slowly turned me around.
I glanced up and warmth spread through my core.
Luca looked so relaxed.
He was still smirking, one eyebrow raised as he searched my face. I ignored the heat spreading from his hands on my shoulders as a grin crept onto my face, unbidden but unstoppable.
He released my shoulders and grabbed the towel that hung over the fence. Turning back to me, he held it up horizontally across my body.
“What’s that for?”
“For you to get changed behind.”
I laughed. “Ha! Good one, buddy. No chance.”
“I’m surprised you’re such a prude, given that you waltz around the studio all day in those things you call shorts.”
“They’re dancer’s shorts,” I gasped, my lips parting in mock outrage.
“You say ‘dancer’s shorts,’ and I say they should be illegal.” He shrugged, and butterflies flapped around in my stomach at his words. “Get changed. I won’t look.”
He closed his eyes, and I studied his face for a moment. He really was God’s favorite.
“Stop staring at me and get changed, Stevens,” he said evenly, but his lip twitched upward.
That kicked me into action. With one final glance around the beach to check there were no onlookers, I lost my clothes, slid my bikini on, and squeezed into the wet suit. Fortunately, it was relatively easy to get on and zip up. I threw my clothes into my tote bag and hooked it over my shoulder.
“Done.”
Luca’s deep brown eyes opened, and he lowered the towel. I shivered as his gaze swept down my body, but I told myself it was because it was a little bit chilly out. Not because I liked the appreciative gleam in his eyes.
“Let’s go.” He cleared his throat and spoke an octave lower than before.
We headed to the shop to collect our rental surfboards. The older man behind the counter was quiet and polite, barely looking up from the till other than to point us to our boards and tell us that the sea was choppy but not unsafe today.
Luca carried both boards as we descended the cobblestone stairs to the sandy beach before walking to the edge of the sea. We strolled in comfortable silence, appreciating the crash of the waves and the gently falling rain.
“Would now be a good time to tell you I’ve never surfed before?” I announced, interrupting the peace.
Luca’s head swung around to look at me.
“You’re joking.”
I just shook my head.
“Why d’you own a wet suit?” His gaze flickered down my body before reaching my face. “It fits you too…” His brow furrowed before he continued, “Well, to be someone else’s.”
I ignored the way my heart thumped at the almost-compliment.
“I bought it, obviously.”
“Just for today?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, grabbing my surfboard from his arms. “I watched some videos, so I think I’ll pick it up quickly.”
He smirked. “Sure you will.”
Safe to say, I did not pick it up quickly.
I could barely stay on the surfboard, let alone ride any waves. It was humbling.
Luca was fantastic at it. Every time he managed to catch a wave, I ensured I accidentally splashed him when I fell off.