(Aria)
I didn’t sleep.
Even after Luca walked me back to my room, even after he waited at the door until I stepped inside, even after he murmured a quiet, “Goodnight, Aria,” like he hadn’t just cornered me against the wall downstairs—I couldn’t close my eyes.
My thoughts were a mess.
His voice. His scent. The way he’d placed his jacket around me like I was something fragile, something worth protecting. The way he’d said with me, where I can see you—not as a threat but as something dangerously close to vulnerability.
I tossed on the bed, staring at the ceiling, angry at him, angry at myself, angry at my stupid heart for reacting to him at all.
By 3 AM, I gave up trying to sleep.
I sat on the floor by the window, hugging my knees, watching the moonlight cling to the garden below. Some
