Page 43 of All at Once

I almost give up and decide to make my own plans, when I hear him from behind me. “If you’re trying to break in at least don’t be so obvious.”

I turn around while rolling my eyes, but then abruptly pause.

Luca’s hair is so disheveled, he’s covered in sweat, and to my dismay, adjusting his shirt as if hejustput it back on.

“I wasn’t,” I say. “I wanted to see what plans you had for today.”

“So that you could ruin them?” he takes a guess.

I narrow my eyes at him. “How did you know?”

“I’m meeting Sofia at the gallery we work at,” he says. “We’re organizing a few things.”

He’s not inviting me, so I guess it’s time to invite myself. “That sounds like fun. Do you mind if I join?”

“It’s not as glamorous as you might be thinking. Besides, I thought you wanted to make all these ‘big plans?’” he gestures with his hands.

“Exactly,” I confirm. “This is the one free day I have so I thought I’d offer to spend it with you.”

“How generous of you,” he says, widening his eyes for dramatic effect. “I’ll be ready in thirty minutes. I have to take a shower.”

While I wait for him to get ready, I notice how things weren’t awkward the way I wondered they’d be after last night. Maybe it’s the fact that our conversation was one that was so personal for me that it’s oddly made me the very opposite of anxious for once. Comfortable even. Something I’m not used to.

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I’m not sure what I was expecting Luca’s car to look like. Definitely not the steel grey sports car that he approaches when we reach the resort’s valet. While I’m busy analyzing this frivolous detail, I almost miss how he’s opened the passenger door for me, reminding myself to take my smile down a notch at a gesture I’ve also never experienced before.

But as soon as I relax onto the cozy leather seat, I realize the car matches him pretty well. Complex, mysterious, and effortlessly appealing.

“How far is the gallery?” I ask.

“About 30 minutes,” Luca says, “sometimes 45 with traffic.”

“Do you mind if I play music?”

“I don’t know…” he hesitates purposefully. “Can I trust you?”

“I guess you’ll find outsoon enough.”

It takes me a bit longer to find my playlist, suddenly distracted by his side profile, the few freckles by his cheek and the curve of his golden lashes now standing out.

Luca touches the screen to the page where I can connect my phone to, redirecting my attention to his long and toned fingers that I not only held during surfing, but also felt on my shoulders. And devastatingly just for a second on my hips.

I quickly search for the shuffle button, trying to snap myself out of this temporary lust, when the first song that starts playing is “Bailando”by Enrique Iglesias.This is 100% a sign.My attention, luckily, is back where it’ssupposedto be.

“It’s fate,” I gush out loud, more so to myself.

Luca must have heard me when his brows furrow. “What’s fate?”

“This artist’s name is also Enrique,” I explain.

“Isn’t thisyourplaylist?”

“Yeah, but this song came onrightwhen I pressed shuffle.”

“Oh. Right. Makesperfect sense,” he deadpans.

I raise a brow at him. “I take it that you don’t really believe in fate then?”

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