Chapter 22 #2
I laugh louder than I should. I dance like I don’t have a care in the world. I pretend I’m the Luca everyone expects—the charming, carefree one who never gets hurt.
The music is so loud it rattles my ribs. Lights strobe across the packed floor, turning everyone into flashing silhouettes. Someone bumps into me and apologizes. Someone else grabs my arm and pulls me into another shot. I throw it back without asking what it is.
Burning. Sweet. Strong.
Perfect.
The red-haired girl laughs and spins away when her friends drag her toward the DJ booth. The tattooed guy at the bar leans in again, close enough that I can feel his breath near my ear.
“You’re trouble,” he says.
I grin. “You have no idea.”
He laughs and signals for another round. I should probably slow down. Instead, I lift the glass and knock it back.
The alcohol is doing its job now. The tight knot in my chest has dulled to something fuzzy around the edges.
Good.
That’s the goal.
The guy’s hand settles on my lower back again, fingers warm through my shirt. A few days ago, I might’ve let it slide lower. Might’ve leaned in closer. Might’ve followed him out of here just to prove to myself I could.
Instead, my brain betrays me again. Because for half a second, I imagine those hands belong to Kai. My stomach twists.
I step away before the guy can notice the change in my expression.
“Bathroom,” I say, jerking my thumb over my shoulder.
He nods easily. “I’ll be here.”
“Cool.”
I weave through the crowd, pushing past bodies and flashing lights until the music dulls slightly in the hallway leading to the restrooms. The quiet hits harder than the bass did.
I lean against the wall for a second, pressing my palms over my eyes. God. I thought getting out would help. Thought enough alcohol and strangers might finally push Kai out of my head.
Instead, everything keeps circling back to him.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. For a split second, hope sparks before I can stop it. Maybe—I pull the phone out.
Not Kai.
Just another notification. Another clip. Another video from the villa. I stare at the thumbnail before I can stop myself.
It’s the same angle as the others. Grainy, filmed from across the beach. You can’t see everything, but you can see enough.
The comments are already exploding beneath it. I squeeze my eyes shut and don’t read any of them. What does it matter what strangers on the internet say about us? It’s over. If it ever started. I shove my phone back into my pocket.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
I push off the wall and head back toward the music. I throw myself into the crowd harder this time, letting the noise and bodies close in around me.
Laughing.
Flirting.
Drinking.
Pretending.
Because if Kai thinks he’s the only one who knows how to build walls—he’s about to learn I can do it, too. Another drink appears in my hand. I don’t remember ordering it.
Tattoo Guy is back beside me, his arm slung casually over my shoulders like we’ve known each other longer than twenty minutes.
“You still alive?” he asks with a grin.
“Barely,” I say, knocking back half the glass.
He laughs and pulls me toward the exit. “Come on. It’s too loud in here to talk.”
Talk. Right. That’s definitely what he has in mind. Normally, I’d hesitate. Tonight, I don’t.
“Lead the way,” I say.
The night air hits me as we stumble out of the club doors.
And immediately—flashes. Cameras. Voices shouting my name.
“Luca!”
“Is that you?”
“Luca, are you and Kai still together?”
“Who’s the new guy?”
Shit.
The paparazzi are clustered across the street like vultures, cameras already snapping.
Great. Exactly what I need tonight.
Tattoo Guy stiffens beside me. “Uh… dude?”
“Ignore them,” I mutter.
Another flash pops.
“Luca, is the band breakup rumor true?”
Something inside me snaps. I turn toward them and lift my hand. Not to wave. My middle finger goes straight up.
A couple of them shout louder, cameras going wild. Good. Let them have their show.
Tattoo Guy laughs nervously. “You famous or something?”
“Something like that,” I say.
He shrugs and flags down a ride-share. Ten minutes later, we’re climbing the stairs to his apartment.
The place is small. Really small. Second-floor walk-up, peeling paint on the hallway walls, the faint smell of old takeout and cheap detergent lingering in the air.
Inside isn’t much better.
A sagging couch. A tiny kitchen barely separated from the living room. A mattress shoved against the far wall.
Tattoo Guy kicks the door shut behind us and tosses his keys onto the counter.
“Sorry about the mess,” he says.
I wave it off.
“Trust me. I’ve seen worse.”
My head spins when I move. Maybe I drank more than I thought. Tattoo Guy steps closer, his hands settling on my hips.
“So,” he murmurs. “You wanna keep the party going?”
A few hours ago, I would’ve said yes without thinking. Now I just stare at him. And my brain betrays me again.
Because when he leans in—for half a second, I want it to be Kai. My stomach lurches. Hard.
“Oh—shit—”
I shove past him and barely make it two steps before it hits. Everything I drank comes back up all over the floor.
Violently.
Loud.
Humiliatingly.
I grip the counter, coughing as my stomach heaves again. Behind me, Tattoo Guy just stares.
“…Well,” he says slowly. “That’s not how I expected tonight to go.”
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, mortified.
“Yeah,” I rasp. “Me neither.”
My head spins. My stomach twists again. And suddenly, the whole stupid plan—getting drunk, hooking up with a stranger, pretending Kai doesn’t exist—feels completely impossible.
Because even here. In a random apartment with a random guy.
All I can think about—is him.
I sink down onto the floor, pressing my forehead against the cool cabinet door.
“Rough night?” Tattoo Guy asks.
I let out a weak laugh.
“You could say that.”
He grabs a roll of paper towels and tosses it toward me.
“Next time,” he says dryly, “maybe skip the seventh tequila.”
I snort tiredly.
“Yeah.”
Next time. Like there’s going to be a next time. Because right now, all I can think is that Kai broke something in me. And I have no idea how to fix it.