Page 5 of Can't Always Get What You Want

The dots pop up again, and I can practically feel his hesitation through the screen.

Luca: That’s not what I meant. You know that.

Me: Do I? Because it kinda feels like you’re saying matching with me is no big deal.

Another pause, longer this time.

Then,

Luca: It’s a big enough deal that I’m risking Gio’s wrath to talk to you behind his back. How’s that for flattery?

I bite my lip, trying not to smile too hard. Damn him for being smooth.

Me: Not bad. But you’re still on thin ice.

Luca: Good thing I’m used to skating on it.

I groan, equal parts annoyed and charmed. “Terrible,” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head.

So why is flirting with him making me tingle all over?

Guh!

Luca: Honestly, I’m surprised to see you on here. You’re way too pretty to be single.

Me: What makes you think I’m single?

Luca: You’re on a fucking dating app?

Oh. Good point.

And that mouth of his…

Who would’ve known? Luca looks like a choir boy—clean-cut, polite, the kind of guy who probably thanks the refs after every game—but apparently, there’s a little edge to him.

He follows up his previous text with:

Are you on this app to flirt or to find a serious relationship?

I blink at the question, taken aback by how straightforward it is. I nibble on the inside of my cheek.

Me: For a relationship. I’m tired of being single. You?

Luca: I want a family and I’m not getting any younger.

I exit out of our chat to give his profile another glance—gawking at his shirtless photograph, as if I’m seeing him for the first time.

Who evenisthis version of Luca?

The Luca I know is quiet, always polite, has a vaguely broody vibe that makes you forget he’s ridiculously attractive. But this? This is something else. The smirk, the shiny washboard abs, theeverything.

Me: You look like the kind of guy who wants a white picket fence.

I smirk as I hit send, picturing his reaction.

The dots pop up again, and my pulse quickens.

Luca: What does that mean? That I look domestic?

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