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Luca

I didn’t quite understand what had just happened. It seemed like he was interested—until he named that outrageous price. And he didn’t even reject me outright; he just turned the tables, so now I had to consider whether I wanted to accept his offer.

As if I could afford that.

Stupidly, that only made him more interesting to me.

What’s the harm in playing muse? The guy should feel honored!

Should I have been more specific?

No, because that’s the point! I want to be inspired by him.

I paid for the drinks and put on my jacket. There was no reason for me to stay any longer. I left the bar and headed toward Niederdorf, the old part of Zurich. The rain picked up again, thundering down on me in heavy drops, yet a smile spread across my face.

I hadn’t lied when I told him that he caught my eye from the beginning. His dark aura had drawn my gaze time and time again. Like a gathering storm, he had sat there for half the afternoon, nervously tapping his foot as if waiting for a verdict, and then, on the phone, he exploded.

Glorious!

The guy’s pale face clearly indicated he had a story to tell. Despite the tension, he managed to stay cool the entire time.

Did he suddenly panic?

Why?

At first, I thought he was introverted, given he had spent most of the time with half his face hidden behind the scarf.

But just because the guy was dressed in all black, as if he were going to a funeral, apparently didn’t mean he couldn’t be explosive.

It was only after I placed the hot chocolate in front of him that I noticed the light makeup around his eyes and the silver piercing on the side of his lower lip.

Fuck … And he would have been perfect.

Was I too forceful?

Or maybe not forceful enough ?

Once again, I was confused. But what could I do when I had imposed restraint on myself—in all aspects of my life? That was the only way I could be sure not to lose control and hurt people. Because outside the ring, that would never happen again.

I will find a muse, and then I will make a great film project.

Unfortunately, my ideas were still buzzing around in my head like a swarm of bees, getting lost in the complexities. What I wouldn’t give to be a coffee machine.

Just flip the main switch, then press the button, and everything will flow out in a concentrated stream.

Fuck! It had been so easy with Matteo.

I faltered.

Juri had clearly reminded me of Matteo. He too had black hair, angular features, and was just as slim.

Matteo had a certain brashness and sometimes came across as curt with other people—except toward the end when he suddenly became romantic after he thought he had fallen in love with me.

But Juri was a bit different. Even if he had been loud in public and shamelessly asked for a second packet of chocolate powder, he did it with a charm that Matteo had lacked.

Juri definitely had that certain something.

I chuckled at my own interest. It seemed like he was the kind of guy who would catch my attention.

At least I knew I wanted to make a short film.

I didn’t see myself in the documentary realm at all.

What pained me, though, was the concept.

Even my mentor, Verena, knew that this was one of my biggest weaknesses.

I wished I had her confidence because right now, I had nothing to show her.

And our next meeting was already on Monday.

When I arrived home ten minutes later, I was soaked to the bone. Shivering, I fumbled for the key and tried to insert it into the lock of my building, only to drop it again—a sign that I just wasn’t on top of things today.

Best to lose myself in a video game.

Maybe that’ll ignite the necessary spark.

Looking forward to a hot shower, I took the elevator up to the fifth floor, kicked off my shoes in the stairwell, and removed my jacket before entering.

Hector, my landlord, hated mess and dirt and never got tired of reminding us that we didn’t have a maid. But since he let me and another student live here in luxury at a bargain price, I was happy to do my part and clean up.

Hector Lando was a lawyer and seldom here anyway, as he still had a house in the Zurich Oberland, in the countryside close to Zurich.

He lived there with his family, including his two teenage daughters.

He originally acquired this luxury apartment in Niederdorf as an office.

Besides the two rooms he claimed for himself, there were three others that he fully furnished and sublet to students.

One was currently vacant, so Sara and I inhabited a 1300-square-foot luxury apartment with a terrace and a view over Niederdorf toward the lake.

“Hey, Luca!” Sara greeted, lounging on the light gray sofa and watching Bridgerton on the huge flatscreen. “What are you doing here already? Don’t you have to work?”

I stood in the hallway, grimacing.

“No! Not again!” she sighed, hitting pause. “What was it this time?”

“A hot chocolate?” I guessed, even though I knew very well.

Sara rolled her eyes. “Pretty soon, you’ll have to find another line of work, because your reputation will precede you and no café will hire you anymore.”

“I know,” I groaned.

Sara had only moved in here three months ago.

After I had avoided her for two months, she eventually sought out a conversation.

She thought we would live past each other due to our schedules, but I simply preferred to be alone.

Unfortunately, she studied psychology and smelled a deeper reason behind my distant behavior.

Since then, she treated me like her little brother; meanwhile, I was two years older than her.

“Are you watching?” she asked, tucking a brown strand of hair behind her ear.

“I need to take a shower.” I was sure she hadn’t missed how I was shivering all over.

I headed straight for the bathroom, stripped off my wet clothes, and stepped into the shower.

Sara’s words echoed in my head. Unfortunately, she was right.

I was indeed running out of options; I had already been through so many cafés.

Maybe it was time to look into the club scene.

They surely were always looking for bartenders.

After taking a shower, I wrapped a towel around my hips and gathered my wet clothes.

I left the bathroom and headed straight for the small room where the washing machine was located.

Except for my jacket, I threw everything in and went to my room.

Shortly after, I stood there in sweatpants and a hoodie, staring thoughtfully at my desk.

My closed laptop was urging me to finally start writing a concept for my film project, but the curved monitor was tempting me with video games.

My gaze wandered to the punching bag. Or a little workout?

But first, I went to the kitchen and glanced at the fridge. Was I hungry? No idea. My eyes fell on the open milk.

Hot chocolate. Don’t we have some cocoa powder here somewhere?

I opened the overhead cabinet and indeed found chocolate powder.

I grabbed a saucepan, poured in some milk, and put it on the stove.

While I made sure it didn’t get too hot, I kept glancing at the flatscreen on the other side of the living room wall.

Sara was fast-forwarding through the credits of Bridgerton and channel-surfing when Hector came around the corner.

“Hey, Luca,” he said, opening the fridge. “Everything okay?”

“Hey, yeah, all good.”

Sara cleared her throat, which Hector noticed. He frowned and silently asked me what that was about.

Just in time, I removed the overflowing milk from the stove just in time. “I guess I’ll have to start looking for a new job.”

Hector didn’t seem particularly surprised by this. He grabbed a ginger shot from the fridge, shook the bottle, and drank it in one go. Meanwhile, I poured the hot milk into a cup and added two spoonfuls of chocolate powder. I paused as Juri came to mind.

He put in two whole packets.

I added two more spoonfuls and stirred.

“Any more and the spoon will get stuck,” Hector commented with a laugh, tossing the empty bottle in the trash. “Since when did you start liking it so sweet? I thought you weren’t into sugar.”

“Yeah …” I admitted absentmindedly. “Maybe it’s time to try something new.”

As the hot chocolate cooled, I leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed my arms. Hector rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands thoroughly at the sink.

As he dried them on a fresh towel and turned back to me, I noticed he was freshly shaved and had styled his brown hair with gel.

For his age, I thought he had held up pretty well, and I was sure that twenty years ago, when he was my age, the ladies had been chasing after him in droves.

“Are you going out?”

“Later,” he replied, his voice almost drowned out by the noise coming from the flatscreen. “I’m not sure yet if I’m staying here overnight or going home after,” he continued, speaking louder. “Still have to figure it out. And how about you? Have you put your ideas down on paper?”

As if I wanted to dodge that question, I shook my head and turned back to the hot chocolate. “What ideas?” I asked despondently. “There are so many. I can’t even sort them out.”

“And what are you working on right now?”

“Honestly? I don’t think …”

“You’ve been living here for two and a half years. Has there ever been anything that didn’t interest me?”

He was right. Besides, I had known Hector before I moved in here, as he was a close friend of my parents. By now, he knew me really well and knew almost everything about me. Not that I was an open book, but over time, a few things had happened that I inevitably had to explain.

“Back rooms,” I finally said. “Does that ring a bell?”

“Do you mean … back rooms? In clubs and such?”