Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Nova plops back down on the barstool, eyes wide with immediate remorse. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she says quickly, grabbing my arm like physical contact might fix the words she just used to sever me from her reality.
I nod once, but don't look at her.
“I panicked,” she goes on, voice rushing. “It wasn’t about you. It was about Gio and the situation and—I don’t know, I just didn’t want to make it worse.”
Worse than pretending I was a stranger?
Worse than watching her lie like I meant nothing?
“Worse. That’s hilarious.”
Jesus, I all but told her I was falling in love with her when she was at my house playing doctor, and all she can say is she didn’t want to make things worse?
She wanted to make it easier for herself. That’s the truth.
Nova bites her lip, guilt flooding her face like she knows it too.
“Luca,” she pleads. “Please don’t shut down on me.”
Too late.
I exhale slowly, dragging a hand down my face. “You just told your brother you were going to hang out with me like you were my little sister. To humble me.”
“No, that’s not—”
“You didn’t even hesitate.” I finally look at her, and I can see the words land. “You looked him right in the eye and made me invisible.”
Nova’s face crumples, just a flash, like she wasn’t expecting me to be this upset.
But I am.
I’m devastated.
“I was trying to protect you,” she says, voice breaking. “Protect us. This thing between us, it’s still new and Gio is—he’s complicated.”
“Bullshit,” I snap, bitterness creeping up my throat. “You were trying to protect yourself. Don’t spin this like you were doing me some favor.”
She blinks, stunned.
I take a breath and go on. “I’ve worked really fucking hard to become someone I’m proud of.” Pause. “I’ve worked on my communication. My ego. My ability to open up. I’ve sat through therapy. I’ve journaled. I’ve listened. I’ve grown. And now I’m sitting here with my dick in my hand the moment your brother comes around.”
Nova’s eyes glass over, her lips parting, but I don’t stop. I can’t.
“I don’t know how I feel dating someone who’s embarrassed by me,” I say, shaking my head. “You wanted to bolt the second you saw him.”
“That’s not true,” she whispers.
“Isn’t it?” I challenge. “Because it sure as hell didn’t feel like I mattered to you in that moment.”
“I panicked, Luca.”
“Yeah,” I say, stepping back. “Well now I’m panicking, too. Because I think this thing between us only feels real to me.”
She looks like she’s about to cry.
Not to be heartless, but good.
This is called a consequence.
“I’m a decent dude. I deserve better,” I say quietly. “You know I’m right.”
When I push up from my stool, she looks shocked.
“Wait—where are you going?”
I look at her, and this time, my voice is soft. Broken. “Home. To be alone.”
And I can’t get there fast enough.
I don’t remember walking to my car. I don’t remember unlocking the door of my black, shiny Range Rover. All I know is I’m behind the wheel now, interior dim. The only sound the hum of the engine and my heartbeat pounding like a war drum in my ears.
I grip the steering wheel.
My jaw aches from how hard I’ve been clenching it. My chest? Feels like someone took a crowbar to it. Cracked it open. Reached in and yanked my whole damn heart out without warning.
I stare straight ahead, blinking hard, trying to keep the sting in my eyes from turning into something worse. Rub them with my knuckles.
I’m not a crier.
Not really.
But this feels like…
Grief.
I seriously thought what we had was awesome. Except for that bullshit with her brother, it was so fucking good. Perfect. The kind of connection that makes you believe in love at first sight and meant to be.
Made me hopeful.
I lean forward, resting my forehead against the steering wheel, emitting a long, slow breath that sounds suspiciously like a sob.
God, I’m so stupid!
I told her things I’ve never told anyone. Let her into the deepest, ugliest parts of me. And when it came time for her to do the same?
Nova couldn’t stand up for herself.
Or me.
Or us.
Pulling out of the small parking lot of the steak restaurant I thought was a safe place to meet, the neighborhood blurs past as tears threaten to fall down my face.
I shouldn’t be driving like this, but I don’t want to pull over to the side of the road and cry like a big, old jackass.
Too late.
I feel way too sorry for myself to hold back.
Is this what people mean when they say it feels good to have a good cry every once in a while?
First for me.
Ten out of ten.
By the time I get home, my face is a fucking mess—eyes red, throat tight, blotches on my skin. I kill the engine and sit for a moment, surrounded by silence. The empty driveway. The accent lighting on the house glowing. The weight of my own disappointment settling deep in my bones.