Forbidden Love

If someone told me I’d fall for the kind of boy my mother warned me about, I would’ve laughed in their face. I was the “good girl”—the kind that always did her homework early, called home every Sunday, and thought rebellion meant staying up past midnight with a romance novel. But that was before him. It started on the third day of freshman orientation. The sun was cruel that afternoon, and my canvas tote bag dug into my shoulder as I stepped out of the library, squinting at the sudden brightness. Students swarmed around the quad like bees, laughing, shouting, bumping into each other with iced coffees and tote bags of free college swag. And then I saw him. He leaned against a black motorbike like it was part of his body. Black jeans. Silver chain glinting at his neck. Dark hair tousled like he just got out of bed—and somehow made that look better than anyone else I'd ever seen. A lazy cigarette dangled from his fingers, unlit, and even though smoking was banned on campus, no one seemed brave enough to tell him that. He wasn’t alone. A group of students—boys and girls alike—circled him like moths to a flame. He said something, smirked, and the girl beside him let out a breathless laugh that made my stomach twist with something I didn’t recognize yet. I was staring. I knew it. But I couldn’t look away. That was the first time I saw Luca Donovan. He looked up, eyes shaded by the late sun—and for the briefest second, his gaze met mine. My heart stopped. Or maybe it raced. I couldn’t tell. All I knew was that in that moment, my carefully built world—of rules, routines, and safety—shifted. Like a crack in the ice. And he smirked. Not at the girl beside him. Not at the guy trying to show off with his skateboard. At me. I turned so fast I nearly dropped my books. My cheeks burned, and I hated how hot my chest felt. I wasn’t like those girls who flirted with trouble. I wasn’t the kind of girl a boy like him noticed. But he did. And that was all it took.