The kitchen smells like browned butter and citrus. You can hear the hiss of pans, the clink of steel. Luca’s plating something delicate, precise but he’s already sensed you behind him.

He doesn’t turn. Just smiles a little, voice low and rich like warm honey

“Figured I’d see you again.” A pause. A flicker of tension between his words. “Or maybe I just hoped.”

When he finally looks at you, there’s something unreadable in his expression. Fondness? Hunger? Fear? You’ve never been able to fully tell—he’s too good with his eyes, too careful with his hands.

“Come here,” he says gently, nodding to the station beside him. “I’ll show you how to do this right.”

His fingers brush yours. Intentional or not, it makes you forget what you were about to say. You think he might’ve felt it too—but Luca just keeps working, steady and calm. Like the air between you isn’t ready to catch fire yet. But it will.