Chapter 28 Luca
We managed to make it through week three despite the failed lift.
But the following week also didn’t go too well. It wasn’t a disaster—but we were restricted in what we could do because of Matilda’s wrist. It had recovered fine, but we weren’t allowed to do any lifts for seven days. We ended week four in fourth place, putting us in the middle of the pack.
We followed the same weekly routine, though.
The night before the show, when everyone was going to the bar, Matilda and I would sneak off, exhausted from the week, and order takeout.
We switched to using a rental car that I could swap each week and always parked in the secure underground parking lot so that the paparazzi couldn’t track us.
A few had lingered during the week after the incident but dispersed when they realized they weren’t going to catch any worthwhile shots.
I was on food-collection duty, and she was on shower-and-put-on-the-smallest-pajamas-to-ruin-my-life duty.
I found myself staring at her for an indecent amount of time.
I found her watching me for an indecent amount of time.
Neither of us spoke about it. And there were definitely no more sleepovers.
Despite managing to stay on our own sides of the bed that entire night, my body had been far too aware of her half-naked body next to mine.
The way her breath evened out as she fell asleep, the soft rustle of sheets when she shifted—I’d noticed every second of it.
In the morning, we had been careful not to let our eyes linger too long or our words stray into anything too personal, despite feeling like everything had changed.
I didn’t know if she’d caught my slip-up or just decided to ignore it. Either way, the words “anyone else” played on repeat in my head, and I couldn’t decide if they had been a mistake or something I’d meant without realizing it.
The press had noticed I hadn’t left Matilda’s building that night, which only fueled more speculation about our relationship.
Jack had managed to spin the situation with the paparazzi to our advantage.
The photos made it clear that the guy had been the one assaulting Matilda, and I hadn’t provoked the altercation.
A few old articles were springing up, referencing my previous mishaps in America, which worried me. I didn’t need the movie producers getting spooked. It was more important than ever that we perform well and I stay out of trouble.
Matilda and I had booked extra hours at a private rink for week five to get back on track. We’d had four weeks of upbeat, fast dances, and while we had nailed the first one, we’d had six weeks to practice it. Now, we only had one.
I was driving to the rink that morning when Jack almost caused a car crash.
“Do you think you and Matilda should do an on-screen kiss?”
I swerved the car for a brief moment before regaining control.
Lord, send me strength.
“What was that for? Are you OK?” His hands shot forward to the dashboard as his head swung to look at me.
“Am I OK?” I gaped at him. “Are you OK?”
“Don’t give me that look, Luca. You’ve done plenty of on-screen kisses before.”
“Yes, for movies. And do you know why? Because it’s written into a script.”
“Think of this like a script I’m writing for both of you.”
I looked at him in disbelief. “Are you joking?”
“Stop asking me questions; I’m not joking.” Jack started typing something on his phone.
“We are not kissing.”
“Why not? It would be fantastic media collateral. You’ve both been quiet since week one—paparazzi incident aside—and we need to get you back in the media.”
“Yes, and we can achieve that with extra training and interviews. Not by kissing each other.”
“Give off, dickhead. I’ve seen you staring at each other. Don’t pretend you wouldn’t love an excuse to kiss her. I’d say sleep with her, but that might be pushing it too far on national TV.”
“I am not engaging in this conversation.” I gripped the wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white.
“Mate, come on.” He turned in his seat to look at me. “You can admit it; you won’t combust from showing an ounce of interest in the opposite sex.”
“I have had sex since Nancy, you know.”
“With people you barely knew the name of. Matilda’s different, and you know it.”
“I don’t think you’re the best person to take relationship advice from. How many have you had, exactly?” I turned into the parking lot of the private rink.
“That’s beside the point. Look, kissing her for the show is a win-win. You get to kiss a pretty woman, get some good press to shimmy in front of the producers, and you can see if you have any chemistry with her without committing.”
“It doesn’t matter if we have chemistry; it won’t go anywhere.
” If I got the part in Dirty Dancing, any semblance of privacy that I was clinging to would disappear—what had happened the other week at Matilda’s would be 24/7, and I wasn’t willing to put her through the paparazzi’s bullshit.
Not only that, but I’d also be away filming for god knows how long, which wouldn’t be the best way to start a new relationship.
I turned the ignition off, searching for an analogy to get it through Jack’s skull. “It’s like smelling the freshly baked doughnuts but not being able to eat them.”
“So you admit that you want to try the doughnuts?” He wagged his brows, completely missing the point. I tipped my head back, staring at the roof.
I stayed silent a moment. Since the night we’d gotten takeout before the first live show, I had wanted to kiss her, and I was sure she wanted to kiss me, too.
There was an intimacy to our practice sessions now—not in a physical way, but in how attuned we’d become to each other.
It lived in the spaces between movements, in the way her hand lingered, in the way our eyes met and held just a beat too long.
It felt…deliberate. And like something neither of us dared speak aloud.
Matilda did everything for everyone, so I knew she’d do the kiss, but I didn’t want her to do it under the guise of the show when she might have wanted it in real life.
We could never have a relationship, so it would be unfair to ask that of her.
It felt manipulative, and from what I’d gathered, she’d already been manipulated by too many people.
I didn’t want to join the list of people who’d abused her trust, especially after she had just given it over.
“I’m not doing it,” I said firmly.
Thankfully, Jack let it go.
“Then you’d best smash this training session.”
When we entered the rink, laughter echoed through the cold air. Lily and Taylor were skating with Matilda. I’d already met Lily a few times, as she often hung around after the show to congratulate us. I hadn’t met Taylor before, but I recognized her from the pictures Matilda had shown me.
“Do it, do it, do it,” Taylor cheered, fixing the giant red scarf around her neck.
“OK, one last time.” Matilda glided around the outside of the rink, her movements fluid and controlled.
Having built enough momentum, she pushed off the toe-pick of her blade while swinging her arms and shoulders into the rotation.
She spiraled through the air at a breathtaking speed, her motion almost too fast to follow.
She landed perfectly, skating backward on one foot.
Without missing a beat, she repeated the same move again—nailing the landing with equal precision.
Matilda was disgustingly modest and rarely skated to her full potential in public.
“Woohoo,” Jack hollered, hands bracketed around his mouth. “That was so sick.”
I looked at him in disgust. “Who uses the word ‘sick’ anymore?”
Matilda spun around, looking toward the entrance where we stood. Her mouth spread into a wide grin, and she waved. Jack waved back and headed toward the girls.
“She was waving at me, dickhead,” I said.
As we approached, Taylor whispered a few oh my gods into Lily’s arm before visibly shaking herself and pretending to examine her nails.
My lips twitched involuntarily.
“Hey, guys,” Jack started. “How’s it going?”
“Hey, Jack.” Taylor beamed at him for a second, her grin almost identical to Matilda’s when she smiled. She must have met him at one of the live shows. Her gaze flickered to me, eyes turning to saucers, but I offered her a smile and pretended not to notice.
“Taylor, this is Luca—I don’t think you’ve met him yet.” Jack glanced at me. “You’re lucky—you’ve obviously caught him on a good day, because generally he only smiles once a year.”
I rolled my head to Jack, giving him a “really?” look, before holding out my hand to Taylor. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
She took my hand and shook it. “Are you going out with my auntie?”
A cackle boomed from Jack as the tips of my ears started to burn. “He fu—fudging wishes.”
I narrowed my gaze at him. “We’re not, no. But she is a good friend. I love skating with her.”
Taylor’s smile faltered for a second, as if she was dissatisfied with my answer. Matilda had almost reached us, so I mentally willed this conversation to wrap up quickly.
Taylor’s face lit up as she turned her phone screen to me, revealing a notification. “Oh my god. Will you be in my BeReal, please?”
“Taylor,” Matilda jokingly scolded from where she stood on the ice.
“Sure.” I had no idea what a BeReal was, but for some unknown reason, I wanted Taylor to like me. She gestured for me to crouch down at her height and took a photo of Matilda with her back camera, then a selfie of us with her front camera.
Kids were weird.
But it seemed to make her happy.
We continued chatting for a bit as a group. Lily was her typical outspoken self, but, interestingly, she and Jack seemed awfully familiar with each other.
Matilda also picked up on it, but she didn’t say anything. I wasn’t as polite as her, and part of putting up with Jack my whole life meant that I could give him shit.
“Do you two know each other?” I feigned innocence.
Lily crossed her arms, smirking, and a flush crept across Jack’s face, deepening his skin tone.
“We sit next to each other for the show; of course we know each other,” Lily said in a knowing lilt.
It felt like more than that, especially with Jack’s reaction. I wouldn’t have been surprised if something had happened between them. To say Jack was a flirt would have been an understatement, and Lily was definitely his type.
After talking for a few more minutes, Matilda and I set off to practice while the others sat in the stands.
This week’s theme was Love. And we’d decided on “At Last” by Etta James. The song gave space for the long, lingering touches, for the quiet glances, for the kind of skating that wasn’t just about the steps but the story too.
It was romantic.
And I didn’t hate it. In fact, it might have been my favorite routine yet.
It was also different from our others. It was technically more difficult, but it was also easier in some ways since it was slower.
We had mixed up our intro. For the four previous weeks, we’d started offstage and entered when the music started. But this week, we would start sitting center stage, with our backs against each other and arms loosely wrapped around our bent knees.
This was the first time we’d practiced the intro on the ice. We’d perfected everything else in the routine and had been practicing it in the dance studio, so adding the stationary lift shouldn’t be too much work.
As the music started, our arms gracefully extended out and back in.
Falling in opposite directions, we rolled onto our stomachs before rising back up, facing away from each other, about a meter apart.
I swung my legs around to a sitting pike position as Matilda repeated the roll but toward me this time.
Instead of stopping to sit beside me, she turned in to me again.
I gripped her waist and simultaneously lowered myself to the ice while lifting her.
It was almost like the Dirty Dancing lift, but I was lying down instead of standing.
The timing was hard to perfect—if we were one beat out of sync with each other, we wouldn’t create enough momentum for me to lift Matilda into the air.
I was strong and Matilda was easy to lift, but the combination of lifting her up while lowering my back to the ice caused my abs to spasm in protest.
After a brief pause in the air, I lowered her body so it was completely flush with mine. I swallowed, ignoring the heat that coursed through my veins every time we practiced this lift.
Fortunately, it only lasted for a second before I rolled her to the side and followed her like a pining lover.
I glided around Matilda in a large arc before stopping behind her, lifting her under her arms and spinning. Matilda had choreographed this lift into our week two dance, so we already had the basics; it just needed polishing.
I slowed, Matilda’s skates slicing across the ice to find balance. Once she was on her feet, her back to my front, we wrapped our arms around her body. In the actual dance, we’d then continue on to the following sequence.
“That wasn’t too bad,” Matilda said as we unwrapped our arms and she twirled to face me.
“I need to work on lifting you from the ground.”
“This was the first time, though. I’m sure it will be fine after a few more practices.”
I nodded and realized we were standing much closer than we needed to be. I cleared my throat and stepped back, Matilda mirroring my movements.
“I hope this week goes better,” she said, pulling her ponytail over her shoulder, a faint crease forming between her brows.
“It will.” I believed it, too. This skate was technically more challenging than our others and, admittedly, it was beautiful. Matilda had done a great job choreographing it. I hoped it was good enough to steal Asha and Alice’s reigning first-place title.
“Have you heard any more from the producers?”
“Not yet. But don’t stress yourself worrying about my problems, Stevens.” I flicked her ponytail back over her shoulder. “We’re going to smash it this week. The producers are going to love it—especially the Dirty Dancing lift. If I get it right.”
“We will get it right.”
“And there’s been less and less bad coverage recently, too. Our rehearsals are strong. Your choreography is great. We’re all good.”
She didn’t look convinced, but she continued, “You promise you’re not worried about it?”
“I promise. I would tell you if I was worried.”
“If you’re sure, Luca.”
“From the top?” I asked her.
“Let’s do it.”