Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“Thanks for your input,” I mutter, picking my phone back up.
I hesitate, thumb hovering over the screen.
Do I swipe right and investigate? Or do I swipe left and pretend I never saw it?
Because if it’s him…it’s going to be super awkward.
But if it’s not him…it could be hilarious.
I hold my breath.
Close my eyes.
Before I can stop myself, I swipe right, heart pounding for reasons I’d rather not analyze.
I toss my phone onto the coffee table like it’s made of lava and cross my arms.
“Oh my God!” NO I DID NOT!
“No way he swipes back,” I reason aloud, sending those vibes into the universe. Oh my God this is so embarrassing! “There is no freaking way.”
A few seconds pass. Then my phone pings.
One new match!
My stomach twists as I grab the phone, my pulse quickening. Sure enough, there it is: Luca has matched with you.
“Oh, shit,” I whisper, staring at the screen. My chest tightens as I glance over at Gio again, hoping he’ll wake up and offer some kind of moral support. He doesn’t. Of course.
“What do I do, what do I do?!” I groan, flopping back against the couch cushions. My mind races as I imagine every possible outcome of this—most of them ending in complete and utter humiliation.
Panic at the disco. Full-blown freak-out mode.
Holy shit.
I sit up abruptly, clutching my phone like it’s my lifeline. “Okay, Nova. Calm down. It’s probably not even him. It’s probably just some random dude using his pictures.”
The phone pings again.
Luca has sent you a note!
“I can’t look.”
Yes you can. Stop being a wuss.
I take a deep breath and peek at the screen, through my fingers.
Luca: Does Gio know you’re swiping on me?
Well. That solves that mystery. This is one-hundred percent my brother's teammate.
Grinning despite myself, I tap out a cheeky response.
Me: Gio is not the boss of me.
Luca: Good to know.
I stare at that sentence, my heart doing a stupid little flip; something about the brevity of it feels deliberately careful, like he’s testing the waters.
Another message immediately pops up.
Luca: But I’m sure he’d have opinions.
I snort, rolling my eyes
Me: Gio always has opinions.
The dots appear again, and I find myself leaning forward, waiting for whatever he’s going to say next.
Luca: Fair. But just so we’re clear, this conversation doesn’t leave the app. I like my face the way it is—unbroken.
Me: You want this to stay a secret?
Interesting.
I like it.
Luca: No need for drama over nothing.
Nothing?
I laugh, a full, belly-deep laugh, not sure if I should be insulted by his insinuation that matching with me amounts to, well–nothing. The dog glances over at me, ears twitching, before deciding he’s not interested in whatever has me so amused.
Me: NOTHING? Wow. I’m SO flattered.
The dots pop up again, and I can practically feel his hesitation through the screen.
Luca: That’s not what I meant. You know that.
Me: Do I? Because it kinda feels like you’re saying matching with me is no big deal.
Another pause, longer this time.
Then,
Luca: It’s a big enough deal that I’m risking Gio’s wrath to talk to you behind his back. How’s that for flattery?
I bite my lip, trying not to smile too hard. Damn him for being smooth.
Me: Not bad. But you’re still on thin ice.
Luca: Good thing I’m used to skating on it.
I groan, equal parts annoyed and charmed. “Terrible,” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head.
So why is flirting with him making me tingle all over?
Guh!
Luca: Honestly, I’m surprised to see you on here. You’re way too pretty to be single.
Me: What makes you think I’m single?
Luca: You’re on a fucking dating app?
Oh. Good point.
And that mouth of his…
Who would’ve known? Luca looks like a choir boy—clean-cut, polite, the kind of guy who probably thanks the refs after every game—but apparently, there’s a little edge to him.
He follows up his previous text with:
Are you on this app to flirt or to find a serious relationship?
I blink at the question, taken aback by how straightforward it is. I nibble on the inside of my cheek.
Me: For a relationship. I’m tired of being single. You?
Luca: I want kids and a family and I’m not getting any younger.
I exit out of our chat to give his profile another glance—gawking at his shirtless photograph, seeing him as if seeing him for the first time.
Who even is this version of Luca?
The Luca I know is quiet, always polite, with a vaguely broody vibe that makes you forget he’s ridiculously attractive. But this? This is something else. The smirk, the shiny washboard abs, the everything.
Me: You look like the kind of guy that wants kids.
I smirk as I hit send, picturing his reaction.
The dots pop up again, and my pulse quickens.
Luca: What does that mean? That I look boring?
Me: I did NOT say that…
Luca: You implied it.
Me: Okay, fine. You’re not boring. Happy now?
The pause is longer this time, and I start to wonder if I’ve actually annoyed him. But then his message pops up: