Chapter 4: Lines We Shouldn't Cross
333 Words
didn’t sleep much after that night on the rooftop.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Luca’s smile—half-teasing, half-troubled. I kept hearing his voice, the way it softened when he talked about feeling alone despite always being surrounded by people. He had layers I never expected. And I wanted to peel back every one.
The next few days, I started seeing him everywhere.
At the café near the business building, leaning against the counter like he owned the place. By the arts center, sketching something in a worn leather notebook. On the quad lawn, sprawled on the grass with his headphones in, eyes closed like he was dreaming of a world far from here.
Sometimes he waved. Sometimes he didn’t. But he always looked at me.
Like I was a secret only he knew.
Then one evening, as I left the library late, I saw him leaning on his bike by the curb.
“Need a ride?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.
I hesitated. I didn’t even have a helmet. I’d never been on a motorcycle in my life.
“I shouldn’t,” I said, already stepping closer.
He grinned. “That’s not a no.”
“I have a quiz tomorrow.”
“Just a short ride,” he said. “Clear your head. Five minutes.”
My heart beat faster than it should’ve. My instincts screamed danger, but my feet betrayed me. I climbed on behind him.
And when the engine roared to life and we tore through the quiet streets, I felt something I never had before.
Freedom. Fear. Desire.
When we finally stopped by a quiet overlook above the river, he turned to me. “You’re not like the others.”
“Is that a good thing?” I whispered.
“It’s a dangerous thing,” he said, voice low. “For both of us.”
And then—before I could think, before I could second guess—he leaned in.
And kissed me.
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