Chapter 14: Lines We Cross
426 Words
The wind outside was sharp, biting at my skin, but I barely felt it.
Luca stood in front of me, his hands tucked in his jacket pockets, eyes heavy with guilt. The music from the party thumped through the walls like a distant heartbeat.
“She’s not mine,” he said finally. “Not anymore.”
“But she thinks she is,” I whispered. “And that doesn’t happen unless you’ve given her a reason to.”
His mouth parted like he wanted to argue—but he didn’t. Instead, he took a slow step closer, voice low.
“I was a mess before you. I let her think things. I let a lot of people think things. Because I didn’t care how it looked. But then you came along, and suddenly, I did.”
I looked away. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”
Luca exhaled, frustrated with himself. “Tell me what to do to fix it.”
“I don’t want to fix you, Luca,” I said, voice cracking. “I just want to stop feeling like I’m the one on the outside.”
He reached for me, hesitated, then touched my wrist like it was fragile.
“You’re not on the outside. You’re the only real thing in my life right now.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
So instead, I let him pull me into his chest, let myself melt into the familiar warmth of him, even if I didn’t have all the answers.
We stayed out there for what felt like hours, not speaking, just holding on. Like if we stayed still enough, the rest of the world couldn’t touch us.
Eventually, he walked me home. This time, no teasing. No playful goodbye. Just his hand in mine and the quiet sound of our footsteps on the pavement.
At my dorm, he stopped. “Can I come up?”
I hesitated.
“I don’t mean like that,” he added quickly, almost shy. “I just… I don’t want tonight to end with you walking away from me again.”
I nodded and opened the door.
That night, we didn’t kiss. We didn’t touch. We just lay there, fully clothed, side by side on my bed. His heartbeat steady beneath my cheek, my fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt like I was afraid to let go.
And when I finally fell asleep, it was with his voice in my ear, whispering, “You’re the only thing that makes sense to me.”
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- Writer
