The Boy I Crashed Into

Chapter Three – Close Calls

Luca's POV

I reached the library at five-thirty and claimed the corner table, broken camera still weighing down my bag. Five minutes later, Sophia and Riya showed up. Sophia’s hair was messy from rehearsal, one loose strand falling across her face as she sat down across from me.

“Here,” she said, sliding over a folder. “I pulled some old town records during lunch. Look at this complaint from two years ago—same yellow smoke, same coughs. A doctor even signed it.”

My stomach dropped. I recognized the letterhead instantly. My family’s company logo sat right at the top, faint but unmistakable. I slid the paper back toward her before Riya could lean in too close.

“See? It’s nothing,” Sophia pressed, tucking that stray hair behind her ear. Her fingers brushed the edge of my hand as she reached for another page. Warm. I pulled back like I’d been burned.

Riya nodded, voice low. “Mrs. Patel down our street took her son to the hospital last week. They kept him overnight. Same breathing issues. She’d talk to us if we asked nicely.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, pulse kicking up. “You’re both moving too fast. That complaint probably went nowhere for a reason. These things get buried. My uncle says the owners—”

“—have connections, yeah, you mentioned,” Sophia cut in, smiling a little. “You keep warning me like I’m about to storm the gates. Relax, Luca. I’m not that reckless… unless crashing into dramatic photographers counts.”

I felt heat crawl up my neck. Dramatic? Was she teasing or just trying to lighten the mood? I glanced away, pretending to study the folder. “Funny. You’re the one who stole my photo, remember?”

Her grin widened for a second. “Still sorry about that. But this might actually help people.” She leaned closer to show me another line in the complaint, our shoulders brushing. I caught the faint jasmine scent from her uniform and forced myself to focus.

I leaned back. “Even if we use this, we’ll hit walls. Permits, sealed files. It's better to drop it before someone higher up notices kids digging around.”

Riya hesitated, but Sophia shook her head. “One interview with Mrs. Patel tomorrow. Public stuff only. If it dead-ends, we switch. But I think you’re wrong about this.”

She looked straight at me, determined. For a second, I almost wanted to tell her everything. Instead, I nodded once, gut twisting. “Fine. One interview. But I’m coming with you. Make sure it stays safe.”

“Deal. Four-thirty tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

We sketched the rest of the plan, the conversation loosening up as we went. Sophia asked about my camera again, joking that I probably took dramatic rain shots just to avoid actual group work. I shot back that at least my hobby didn’t involve wrecking other people’s gear. Riya laughed, muttering something about “the worst meet-cute ever.” By the time we packed up, the library lights had brightened against the early dark.

Outside, my driver’s black SUV waited at the curb, headlights cutting through the drizzle. Sophia noticed it right away.

“Fancy ride,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Rich kid perks?”

I shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “Just convenient. See you tomorrow.”

She gave a small wave, that stubborn smile lingering as she and Riya headed off.

The drive home was quiet. When I stepped inside, the house felt too big and too empty like always. No parents—just the usual note on the counter about some dinner meeting. Nanny Meera had left warm food: rice, chicken curry, and spiced vegetables. I ate alone at the long table, the silence pressing in.

Upstairs in my room, I crashed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling for a while. What a mess of a day. The logo on that complaint kept flashing behind my eyes. They were already closer than I liked, and I still had to slow them down without looking suspicious.

I sat up eventually, grabbed the PS5 controller, and started a match. Five minutes in I’d already died twice, missing easy shots I normally nailed. I tossed the controller aside and just sat there in the quiet room. This girl had crashed into my life less than twelve hours ago, and everything already felt off balance. I wasn’t sure how long I could keep steering her away before something gave.

The door burst open without a knock. My little sister Priya, still in her school uniform with her backpack half-open, marched straight in waving a worksheet.

“Luca! You have to help me with this math. I don’t get fractions, and Mum says you’re good at it.” She flopped onto the edge of my bed like she owned the place, shoving the paper under my nose. “Please? I have it tomorrow.”

I sighed, rubbing my face, but scooted over anyway. “Fine. But only once. And next time, knock.”

As I started explaining the problems, her chatter filling the quiet room, I couldn’t shake the feeling that keeping secrets was about to get a lot harder.