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luca

N ova is correct.

She humbled me.

This tops the most humiliating evenings of my life.

And that includes the time I accidentally tucked the back of my jersey into my hockey pants during a televised game, skated around with my number wedged into my ass crack, and didn’t notice until it was all over TikTok.

That? That was funny.

This?

This is something else entirely.

Because tonight, it wasn’t strangers laughing. It was her pretending I wasn’t sitting beside her.

“Ouch,” I say at last, pushing my drink to the middle of the bar top, no longer thirsty. Or in the mood. “That wasn’t fun.”

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.

I ache.

I don’t even make it to the laundry room before my phone buzzes in my pocket.

Skaggs.

Of course.

I swipe to answer and hit speaker, tossing my keys to the laundry room drop zone as I fend off Nugget and his boisterous attack, his urgency to play and jump forever an irritation. Tonight I’m doubly annoyed at his lack of chill.

I shoo the dog away as I take my roommate’s call. “Yo.”

“Bro.” Skaggs immediately senses something is off. “You okay?”

“What’s up?”

I need him to get to the point so I can go be dramatic alone in my room and drown my sorrows in beer and ice cream.

My roommate is shouting over loud music. “You home?”

“Yup.” Always home AND ALONE.

Sigh.

“I thought I was gonna be home and was supposed to give Nugget his meds. Totally fucking forgot and I’m not gonna be home anytime soon,” he continues shouting.

He could have texted me this.

“I got it.” The dog stares up at me, wanting to jump on me. I can see it in his beady little eyes.

“Awesome, thanks.” He pauses. “Uh. You sure you’re good?”

I open the door to the fridge with the heel of my foot and lean against it. “Define good .”

“You don’t sound great—maybe you are actually sick or something.”

I bark out a laugh that’s more of a cry. “Yeah. I’m sick of something alright.”

There’s a pause. “Is this the same something that had you blowing chunks at practice yesterday? ”

“Yes.”

“Shit. Should you start wearing a mask?”

I scowl, annoyed as hell. “I don’t have Covid, you fucking moron!”

He pauses. “Oh. Cool.”

I stare blankly at the refrigerator’s contents, then shut it again without grabbing anything. My appetite’s gone, shredded into the same microscopic pulp as my dignity.

“You sure you’re alright?” Another beat goes by and Skaggs asks, “I can come home if you want to hang.”

I don’t want to hang!

I want to be alone to stew in my own miserable thoughts.

“No,” I clear my throat to keep my voice even. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Like a loser.

“I can crash at Marlow’s,” Skaggs offers. “Give you space if you need it.”

I walk to the living room, flopping down on the couch. Drag a hand through my hair. “Nah, it’s your place too.”

He pays his fair share of my mortgage and utilities, and I’ve never put any rules in place for either of my roommates, which explains this pain in the ass of a dog that has no boundaries.

He’s the rudest roommate I have.

“You sure?”

I lean my head back against the cushion, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m sure. Just a rough night.”

Skaggs hesitates before offering one more time. “You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

YES. I AM SURE!

Although it wouldn’t be the worst idea to talk to someone about this fucked up situation I’m in. What started as something innocent became something more and now I’m in a weird, fucked-up love triangle where the object of my scorn is my teammate .

My roommate doesn’t know about Nova. Now is not the time to mention her name.

So I say, “Nah. I appreciate the offer, though. Adrenaline dump after the game, I guess.”

He doesn’t buy it.

We won the game, how could I be depressed?

Endorphins make you happy!

“Alright,” he says finally. “Well if you change your mind, you know where I’m at. Don’t keep your shit bottled up.”

That makes me chuckle. “You’re good people, Skaggs—no matter what anyone says about you.”

“Thanks man, I—” He stops. “Wait. What are people saying about me?”

“Night, Skaggs.”

“God dammit, Babi. What are people saying about m?—”

I end the call and toss my cell on the coffee table. Then I sit in silence.

The house is too quiet. The couch too cold. And even though I told him not to come home, a small part of me wishes he would. Just so I wouldn’t have to sit here in the ruins of something I let myself believe could be real.

I lean forward, elbows on knees, and stare at the floor.

Still not hungry.

Still not okay .