Page 55 of Back Room Host

“What does someone interested in martial arts look like?” he chuckled, placing the empty cup on the coffee table.

“Well, I don’t know. You look more like … a model to me.”

“What?” Luca burst out laughing loudly, warming my heart. “I’m not a model!”

“At least not a thug either. Especially after the stunt you pulled off yesterday.”

“Yeah, I just got into that somehow,” Luca hesitated.

“Through friends?”

“Ha! No, more like … the opposite.”

“What’s the opposite?”

“You’re pretty curious.” He rose from the couch with his empty glass and retreated to the kitchen.

“We’re just having a conversation. But if you don’t want to talk …”

I reached for my phone and unlocked it as he emerged from behind the kitchen island and paused halfway. “I was bullied a lot,” he said hesitantly. “Very often. Daily. Even as a teenager.”

“Okay.” I placed my phone on my lap and waited. As if feeling obligated to explain, he stood there but struggled to find the words to say. “And then you started with self-defense?” I asked, hoping to prompt him.

He seemed visibly relieved and nodded. “Yeah, something like that,” he said and disappeared inside the kitchen.

I sensed there was more to it, but if he didn’t want to talk, then I wouldn’t pry. I redirected my focus to my phone, replying to a few messages while he prepared dinner. Eventually, I got up from my chair and made my way to the patio door.

“Wait, I’ll help you.”

“I need the chair anyway,” I said.

Finally, I sat down beside the open window and lit a cigarette. Luca joined me, lighting one for himself. As he leaned against the window frame with his shoulder, exhaling smoke, I involuntarily grimaced.

“Doesn’t that contradict each other? Sports and smoking?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I know, it’s totally stupid. But now that I have a competition coming up, I’ll try to cut back again.” He tapped the ash off and smiled. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll take a moment, but tonight we’re having fried rice. I hope you’ll like it. It’s strange cooking for a chef.”

I swallowed, because that was probably the moment when my vague response turned into a lie.

“Do you think you’ll manage on your own?” he asked, pointing to my sprained hand.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, otherwise I could have prepared something for you for tomorrow or the day after. Or do you think you can handle it?”

“We’ll see.”

Luca hadn’t promised too much, as dinner was indeed first class. He had even cut the fish into bite-sized pieces so I could eat everything with a spoon.

“It’s only a few days, luckily,” he said, tidying up the kitchen while I was back on the couch.

Yes, just a few days, yet the thought of it didn’t exactly fill me with joy. Almost everything happening around me reminded me of how helpless I was, which infuriated me. I had to make an effort not to take it out on Luca. I ended up reading this photography blog that I had left open in the browser for a while. It almost seemed like reading and photography were the only things I could do. I had found a few websites for sex chats, but I could only tackle that when Luca wasn’t home.

“Do you want coffee?” he asked as the metallic sound of a key at the front door rattled. “That’ll be my landlord,” he said nonchalantly as I looked up, confused.

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