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luca

“ W hy did you come here if you don’t want to date me? Free food?” The words slip out of my mouth before I can think them through, and the second they do, I know I’ve screwed up.

Nova’s brows shoot up. "Wow. Okay."

I drag a hand down my face. " That’s not what I meant. "

Her expression shifts, something unreadable flickering behind those beautiful, sharp eyes.

"You think I came here for free food?"

I shake my head quickly. "No, that’s not?—"

"Because I can buy my own damn food, Luca," she cuts me off, tone flat.

She is not amused…

I groan. "I know you can buy your own food, Nova. I meant—" I exhale, trying to untangle the knot of frustration in my chest. "Look, you’re the one arguing against this. You don’t want to keep things quiet, you don’t think this is a good idea—so why are you here ?"

"Because you asked me to be here." She takes a slow sip, like she’s unbothered, but I can see the way her fingers tense around the glass .

"That’s not an answer," I say, watching her closely.

She lifts a shoulder. "It’s the only one you’re getting."

I decide to say more shocking shit because why not ? Nova is already riled up, and I like seeing her like this—cheeks flushed, eyes shining, expression between amusement and exasperation.

I lean toward her again, raising my voice above the rumble of artificial thunder. "You like me."

She chokes around the straw in our drink, coughing as she sets the glass down with a clatter. "Excuse me?"

I fight back a grin. "You do."

"Pfft," she scoffs, her eyes narrowing like she’s trying to will me out of existence. "Absolutely not."

Her reaction makes me laugh—because it’s so dramatic, so her . I lean back against the ridiculous rhino seat, stretching out like I own the place, unable to keep the smile off my face.

"You’re a terrible liar."

“Excuse me?” Nova crosses her arms, looking at me like I just insulted her. "I am an excellent liar, thank you very much."

I throw my head back and laugh.

Nova scoffs again, shaking her head like she can't believe she's even having this conversation. "Okay, Mr. Mind Reader , since you apparently know everything, why don’t you tell me exactly why you think I like you?"

I lower my head, smirking as I watch her. "Oh, where do I even start?"

Nova rolls her eyes. "This should be good."

I lean in, just enough to make her shift slightly in her seat. "For starters, you flirt with me. Whether you realize it or not."

She opens her mouth, but I cut her off before she can argue. "Oh, don’t even try to deny it. You always have some kind of snarky comeback locked and loaded.”

“So? That doesn’t prove anything.”

“You like our banter. You like keeping me on my toes. You like the way I push back when most guys don’t bother."

Nova exhales sharply through her nose. "That’s not?— "

I hold up a finger. "Not so fast, I’m not done."

She clamps her lips shut.

“You have a crush on me.”

“You’re right.” She responds in a breezy tone. “I’m only here for the free food.” Nova nabs a dinosaur nugget and nibbles on it. “I love how you just assume every woman is dying to date you.”

She’s hilarious. “Do you think I would be on dating apps if women were dying to date me? Please—don’t make me laugh.”

The truth is, it hasn’t been easy weeding through fan girls and wannabes to find someone who actually wants to be in a committed, long-term relationship… and not someone there for the clout and social media followers.

Nova pops the last bite of her nugget into her mouth and smirks. "Puh-lease! You’re telling me you’re struggling to find dates? Give me a break.”

I narrow my eyes at her. "You think I’m joking?"

“Yeah.” She nods. "It is a joke.”

I don’t usually talk about this kind of thing—about how exhausting it is trying to find someone real when most of the people who slide into my DMs just want bragging rights. But Nova is related to a man who, at one point, had the same issues when it comes to his personal life.

“All I seem to do is question people’s intentions, wondering if they actually like me or just the idea of me," I confess.

Nova hums, tapping her fingers against the table. "Not to make this about me, but at least you’re getting dates. I have the absolute worst luck."

I tilt my head. "Bad luck how ?"

She waves a hand. "Cheaters, liars, guys who look nothing like their profile picture. Guys who realize they’re not over their exes in the middle of dinner?—"

"For real?"

"Yes," she hisses, taking a sip of the yellow giraffe. "I swear, the universe has it out to get me. Just send me one decent, normal guy who isn’t a walking red flag. Is that so much to ask?"

I raise a brow at her. Has she already forgotten the universe already has—and he’s sitting right next to her?

"You sure you don’t have terrible taste?"

Her jaw drops. "Excuse me?"

I grin. "I’m just saying, maybe the common denominator in all these disasters is you ."

She gasps, smacking my arm. "You asshole !"

"Look," I say, still grinning. "I’m just saying, maybe it’s not the universe. Maybe you’re just looking in all the wrong places."

Nova opens her mouth—but something shifts in the air. That weird, unmistakable feeling of being watched prickles at the back of my neck. It’s one I’m familiar with, given the public nature of my profession, but it’s unsettling nonetheless.

My instincts kick in before I even realize what I’m doing, gaze flickering past Nova, scanning the bar.

That’s when I see him .

A dude near the entrance, phone raised, pointed directly at me.

My stomach tightens.

The moment our eyes meet, he lowers his phone, turning away like he wasn’t just blatantly snapping a picture. Like I didn’t just catch him mid-shot.

My jaw tics. Fan? Paparazzi? Some random guy trying to sell a photo to the highest bidder? I don’t know. But whatever it is, it doesn’t sit right.

Nova notices the shift in my expression and frowns. "What?"

“Hold on one second.” I slide off the stool, ignoring Nova’s confused expression as I weave through the tables, eyes locked on the guy.

He’s moving toward the exit, like he’s hoping to blend into the crowd and disappear before I can reach him. Too bad for him, I move faster.

“Hey,” I call out, my voice steady but firm .

The guy stiffens, but doesn’t turn around. Instead, he keeps walking, shoulders hunched like he can pretend he didn’t hear me.

Not happening. My date with Nova is private and I would love to keep it that way, despite the fact that we’re at the fucking Rainforest Café.

I pick up my pace and reach out, grabbing his arm just enough to make him stop, but not enough to make a scene. “I said, hey .”

He turns slowly, his grip tightening on his phone. He’s mid-thirties, scruffy, wearing a jacket that’s seen better days. His eyes dart around, like he’s searching for an escape route.

“I’m not trying to be an asshole, but I’m on a date and she’s camera shy,” I say by way of explanation, not wanting to come off as a total prick.

His jaw shifts. "I was just—" He hesitates, then sighs. "Look, man, it’s nothing. Just a quick picture."

"For what?" I press.

The guy glances around again, nervous. "I’m a fan, okay? Just wanted a shot, that’s all."

I don’t buy it. Not completely.

"Yeah?" I study him, watching the way he grips his phone like it’s his lifeline. "Do you mind showing it to me?"

His eyes widen slightly. "What?"

"Your phone," I say, holding out a hand. "Show me the picture. You know—I might want a copy since it’s our first date and all."

I tilt my head, keeping my expression light even though every muscle in my body is on high alert. "Come on, man. If it’s just a picture, no harm in showing me, right?"

His throat bobs as he swallows. Then, after a moment of obvious internal debate, he lets out a short breath and flips his phone around.

It’s a photo of me. Sitting at the bar. Nova is in the frame too, her head tilted toward me mid-laugh, the neon glow of the rainforest-themed lights casting soft shadows over both of us.

Nothing shady. No weird angles. No sign that he was trying to capture anything other than what he claims.

Still, my gut churns.

He shrugs. "See? Just a fan. I swear."

I squint down at him. “You realize this is an invasion of my privacy?”

And she has a brother who is a complete dick about her dating his teammates? No good would come of him finding out through social media that she was out with me. I don’t like the idea of Nova’s brother— or anyone else—getting the wrong idea about this night because some random dude wanted a candid shot for clout.

“I’m so sorry, bro. I watch all your games, man. Big fan—" He rubs the back of his neck. "Didn’t want to bother you for a real picture."

I don’t respond right away, letting the moment stretch.

Then, finally, I nod. "Next time, just ask."

His shoulders sag in relief. "Yeah, of course. My bad. Won’t happen again."

I step back, watching as he tucks his phone away and slips toward the exit.

Nova appears beside me, frowning. "What the hell was that?"

I glance down at her, forcing a smirk. "Apparently, I’m a big deal."

She doesn’t laugh when I explain that I’d caught the guy taking photos of us. “You believe he was only a hockey fan?"

I roll my shoulders, trying to shake off the weird feeling still sitting in my chest. "Doesn’t matter."

The evening feels ruined.

Nova studies me, her brows drawn together like she’s trying to see past my easygoing exterior.

"It does matter," she says, putting her hand on my shoulder, as if consoling me. "If this guy was just a fan, why does it feel so sketch?"

I exhale, rubbing a hand down my face. "I don’t know."

I hate that answer. I hate not knowing, not having control over what happens next. Because if that photo ends up online, it’s not just me it affects. It’s her. And her brother.

Nova must sense it too because she exhales, pushing our drink away like she’s lost her appetite. "Well, this sucks."

I huff out a humorless laugh. "Yeah. Kinda does."

She leans against the bar, watching me carefully. "You wanna leave?"

I do.

I don’t.

I want to go somewhere else, somewhere private , where I don’t have to worry about phones or social media or some random guy waiting for a payday at my expense.

But I also don’t want the night to end like this .

“Maybe we should call it.”

"Yeah," she says after a beat, pushing off the barstool. "Probably for the best."

We don’t talk much as I walk her to her car, the neon glow of the themed restaurant fading behind us. The air outside is cooler, quieter, but the tension from earlier still lingers, thick and unspoken.

The sound of her car unlocking bleeps in the parking structure and Nova turns to me, arms crossing over her chest. "Well, this was fun.” Her voice drops. “Right up until the part where it wasn’t..."

I laugh.

She’s so cute when she’s all huffy.

I could kiss her.

But I don’t .

Instead, I reach around her, hand on her car handle and pull it open for her, meeting her gaze with something unreadable.

“Well. Thanks for agreeing to having drinks. This was fun. ”

“Fun,” she deadpans, clearly pouting.

I smirk at the way she says it—like it’s the furthest thing from what she actually means.

Giving her space, I step aside so she can slide into the driver’s seat, gripping the top of the door.

Her sigh is long and dramatic, before her gaze flickers up at me. There’s something sharp in her eyes, something unsaid lingering between us like an open tab neither of us wants to close.

I close her door and she starts the engine, rolling down her window so I can say, "Drive safe, Nova."

Her brows knit together. Lips part like she’s about to say something—but then she snaps her mouth shut.

I see it.

That irritation in her eyes. The quick inhale, the way her fingers tighten around the edge of her car door as if…

Is she pissed I’m not going to kiss her?

Nova exhales sharply, tilting her head like she’s re-evaluating me in real time. "That’s it? Drive safe?"

She sounds so disgruntled. "That’s it."

Her nostrils flare, and for a second, I think she might actually back out of the parking stall and leave me standing there, but she clicks her tongue and yanks her seatbelt across her chest with a little more force than necessary.

I lean down, resting my forearm against the roof of her car. "You seem frustrated, Montagalo."

She glares at me. "I’m not ."

“Did I do something to upset you?” My voice is teasing. Knowing.

Nova scoffs. “No.”

“No?” I echo, tilting my head, watching her.

She exhales, shifting in her seat, fingers still gripping the wheel like she’s debating whether to say more.

I knock my knuckles against the roof of her car, feigning deep thought. “Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wanted something else. ”

Her lips press into a thin line.

“Something like…” I grin. “Oh, I don’t know. A kis?—”

“Don’t,” she cuts me off. “Do not.”

I straighten, taking a slow step back with a shrug. “Suit yourself, Montagalo.”

Nova exhales through her nose, clearly at war with herself, and I can tell— I know —that if I leaned in…if I reached for her, she’d meet me halfway.

But I don’t.

Instead, I lift my hand in a lazy wave. “G’night, Nova.”

Her fingers tighten around the wheel. “Good night.” The words are clipped, like she’s forcing herself to say them.

I watch as she shifts into gear, backing out with more precision than necessary, her movements stiff, controlled. I watch as her taillights glow red, then disappear around the corner.

Then I shake my head, smirking to myself.

Yup. She’s pissed.

And the best part? She’s not pissed at me.

She’s pissed at herself…

For wanting me in the first place.