“Holy shit, did Luca Reyes just—”
“Did he actually—”
“Are they—?”
The whispers hit like machine gun fire the second Luca’s mouth left mine. I’m standing by the front gates, lips still tingling, brain completely offline, while half the school processes what they just witnessed: Luca fucking Reyes kissing Noah Linwood in broad daylight like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
His hand is still fisted in my hoodie. Still holding me close enough to count his eyelashes. Still looking at me like he just claimed territory.
“Breathe,” he murmurs, thumb brushing my jaw.
Right. Breathing. That’s a thing humans do.
“What the hell was that?” I whisper.
“That,” he says, grinning like he just won the lottery, “was me being done with subtlety.”
The crowd around us is pretending not to stare while absolutely staring. Phones are out. Jace is standing by the vending machine looking like someone just told him Santa isn’t real. And I’m having what can only be described as a full-scale mental breakdown disguised as standing upright.
“I need—” I start, but my voice cracks. “I can’t—”
“Noah—”
I bolt.
Not walking. Not casual retreat. Full-on Olympic sprinting toward the back courtyard like my life depends on it. Because honestly? It might.
The empty benches become my sanctuary. No witnesses. No phones. Just me, the wind, and the lingering taste of Luca’s ChapStick on my lips.
What the actual fuck just happened?
My phone buzzes. Then again. And again. Probably Ezra losing his mind, or random classmates sliding into my DMs to ask if I’m dating Luca Reyes now, or—
I turn it off. Shove it in my bag. Pretend technology doesn’t exist.
Lunch period arrives like an execution date. I usually sit with Ezra, but today I pick the table closest to the exit—strategic positioning for another potential escape. My earbuds are in, hood up, full antisocial armor activated.
Then Luca appears.
No tray. No food. Just slides into the seat next to me like he owns it.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “Do you have a death wish?”
“Nope. Just hungry.”
“You don’t have food.”
“I’m not hungry for food.”
The line hits different when you’re already running on three hours of sleep and emotional whiplash. I can feel every pair of eyes in the cafeteria laser-focused on our table.
“Everyone’s staring,” I hiss.
“Let them.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one about to get dissected on social media.”
He leans closer, voice dropping. “You okay? After this morning?”
“Was I okay? You mean after you basically announced to the entire school that we’re—” I pause. “What are we, exactly?”
“What do you want us to be?”
Classic Luca. Answering questions with questions like some kind of philosophical fuckboy.
“I want to not be having this conversation in front of two hundred people.”
“Then stop caring what two hundred people think.”
“Says the guy who’s never been unpopular a day in his life.”
His expression shifts. Something harder. More serious.
“You think I don’t know what I’m risking here?”
The question catches me off guard. “What are you risking?”
“Everything.” He glances around the cafeteria, then back at me. “My reputation. My friends. The easy life where I didn’t have to think about consequences.”
“And you’re willing to risk all that for what? A charity case debate nerd?”
“Don’t.” His voice goes sharp. “Don’t fucking do that.”
“Do what?”
“Put yourself down like you’re not worth it.”
Before I can respond, Jace materializes at our table. No invite. Just stands there with his tray, jaw clenched like he’s chewing glass.
“Interesting lunch choice,” he says, eyes bouncing between us.
Luca doesn’t even look up. “Something you need, Jace?”
“Just wondering if you’ve lost your mind.”
“Nope. Found it, actually.”
The tension is so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. I’m sitting here like Switzerland, trying not to exist while two alpha males have a pissing contest over my lunch table.
“This is new,” Jace continues, smirk sharp enough to draw blood. “The charity work, I mean.”
“Walk away,” Luca says quietly. “Now.”
“Or what?”
Luca finally looks up, and something in his expression makes Jace take a step back. “Or I’ll explain to everyone why you’re really upset.”
Whatever that means, it works. Jace’s smirk falters, and he disappears back into the crowd without another word.
“What was that about?” I ask.
“Nothing important.” Luca turns back to me like nothing happened. “Where were we?”
“You were explaining why you decided to blow up both our lives this morning.”
“I didn’t blow up anything. I clarified the situation.”
“Which situation?”
“The one where you keep pretending you don’t want this.”
My stomach flips. “I never said—”
“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face every time you look at me.”
Fuck. He’s right, and we both know it.
“This is insane,” I whisper. “We can’t just—”
“Can’t what? Be honest about how we feel?”
“Can’t make out in public and then sit here acting like it’s normal!”
“Why not?”
“Because normal people don’t work like this!”
“Good thing we’re not normal people.”
He reaches across the table, fingers brushing mine. Just barely. Just enough to send electricity straight up my arm.
“I don’t do casual,” I say, voice barely audible.
“I know.”
“And I don’t do games.”
“I know that too.”
“Then what is this?”
He leans closer, close enough that I can smell his cologne, see the gold flecks in his dark eyes.
“This,” he says, voice low and certain, “is me telling you that you’re mine, Noah.”