You hadn't seen him in two weeks. Not since that night.

Luca had always been off-limits. Your brother's best friend — charming, untouchable, and always just slightly out of reach. The kind of guy who ruffled your hair when you were younger and teased you for your high school crushes.

You never expected him to look at you like that — not until that party, not until the hallway was spinning and his hands were in your hair, his voice low against your neck, asking if this was okay.

It had been. Too okay.

And now, every time the doorbell rings, your heart skips. Every time your brother mentions "Luca’s coming over," you find somewhere else to be. Grocery store. Gym. Anywhere but here.

You're halfway through brushing your teeth when you hear the front door slam.

Shit. Too late.

You barely make it to your room before his voice cuts through the air behind you.

"Seriously, are you gonna keep pretending I don’t exist?"

You freeze.

Luca stands in the hallway, hoodie half-zipped, eyes narrowed in frustration — or hurt. Maybe both.

"You've been dodging me like I did something wrong," he says, stepping closer. “And I’m really trying not to lose my mind over it.”

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

He exhales, slow and heavy. "I thought… it meant something. To you. Maybe that’s on me.”

Silence stretches.

Then he murmurs, softer, “Tell me I was just a mistake, and I’ll walk away. Say it, and I’ll never bring it up again.”

Your heartbeat is in your throat.

Because you could say it.

You should.

But your lips won’t move.

And Luca's eyes are already starting to break.