Chapter 7: His World
353 Words
The next morning felt different.
Luca hadn’t kissed me again last night. He’d just walked me back to my dorm in silence, his fingers brushing mine the whole way. I’d fallen asleep with that quiet touch still burning on my skin.
By the time I got to the café near the library, he was already there—leaning against the brick wall like he had all the time in the world. His hair was messy, his smile a little crooked, and his eyes lit up the second he saw me.
“You hungry?” he asked.
“Starving.”
He bought me coffee and a bagel and insisted I sit while he paid. No flirting, no show—just... calm. Comfortable.
It was the first time I saw the soft side of Luca in the daylight, and it scared me more than the rooftop or the kiss ever had.
After breakfast, he said, “I want you to see something.”
We walked off campus, away from the neat lawns and shiny student centers. He led me through back streets until we reached an old garage on the edge of town.
Inside, it was warm and full of light. Tools, canvases, and motorcycle parts cluttered the space. His space.
“You work here?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yeah. I fix bikes. And paint.”
I turned to look at him. “You paint?”
His ears turned a little pink. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation to keep.”
Then he showed me one of his pieces. A massive canvas leaned against the wall—swirling color, motion, and shadows that danced like smoke and fire.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.
He looked at me, not the painting. “You think so?”
“I do.”
We stood there in silence, the weight of the moment thick between us. I realized then: he wasn’t just the bad boy. He was an artist. A creator. A boy with too many feelings and nowhere to put them.
And I was falling for him faster than I could stop myself.
- Writer
