He heaved a defeated sigh as I flung open the door. With his arm around my shoulders, he guided me inside and bought a ninety-nine cent bag of diced frozen carrots because they were out of peas. As we headed back outside, he carefully wrapped the icy vegetables around my injured hand, standing there on the sidewalk.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Now, hold that there,” he said before leading me back to the car.
I allowed him to open the passenger door for me.
“We better get you home before you join a fight club,” he said once he was behind the wheel.
“Do you think it’s that easy to join?” My lips quirked into a grin. “Is there a yearly membership fee? Like Costco? Or do you think it’s more of a month-to-month thing? I wonder if there’s any perks.”
He shook his head and stifled a laugh. I stole glances at him as we chatted during the short drive back to my place. When we got there, he insisted on walking me to my door.
“Really, I can manage on my own,” I insisted, bounding up the stairs.
“But what if a bear’s up there waiting to maul you to death?” he joked.
“If there’s a bear on my doorstep in the middle of Nashville, we have bigger problems,” I said once we reached the front stoop. “Besides, would you really be dumb enough to fight an actual wild animal for me? They’re a little more dangerous than drunk hipsters harassing people in bars.”
“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “I’d kick that bear’s ass.”
I giggled. “Looks like we need to watch some Discovery Channel because I’m pretty sure that’s not how it would go.”
He snickered with me, the porch light illuminating the tiny creases at the corners of his eyes.
“Then I guess I’d be eaten by Smokey Bear,” he said, stepping closer.
“Seems more likely.” Our laughter slowed until the only sounds remaining were that of the crickets and the drum of my heartbeat slamming in my ears.
“Thanks again for coming with me today,” he said.
Thanks for being such a great pal.He didn’t say those exact words. In fact, I was fairly certain he’d never so much as uttered the wordpalin his life. But it didn’t matter because the sentiment was still the same. This had been nothing more than two friends hanging out.
I gave a lighthearted shrug. “Yeah, it was fun. And now you have your own little hobbit house.”
“Thrifting this week?”
“If you still want to.”
“I do,” he said quickly. “I need you to come work your magic. Make the place more homey.”
The corners of my mouth stretched upward. “Okay. Well, um—”
Whatever words I was about to say left my mind when he pulled me into his arms. I melted into him like butter on warm bread, my body greedily filling up every empty space between us. I drank in his warmth, desperate to memorize how it felt to be held by him: somehow safe and dangerous all at once.
With Luca around, no one could ever hurt me—no one but him.
“I’ll text you?” he asked, releasing me with a squeeze to my shoulder.
“Sounds good.”
He nodded, starting down the steps, and I leaned against the railing, watching as he went.
“G’night, Fight Club,” he called over his shoulder.
“Night,” I replied, scrubbing my hands down my face.
I was in over my head. The silly fantasies I’d had about Luca had given way to something more. Something deeper. I didn’t know how to stop it. Even knowing he’d probably never feel the same, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
