Page 45 of The Slug Crystal
I laugh nervously. "That's less courage and more cleaning up my own mess."
"Perhaps," he concedes, his voice dropping lower. "But you could have given up. Left the snail as a snail. You didn't."
The accordion music swells, carried on a breeze that ruffles my hair. Luca reaches out, tucking the wavy, chestnut strand behind my ear with a gentleness that makes my breath catch. His hand lingers, warm against my cheek.
"I find that admirable," he murmurs. "And intriguing."
Before I can respond, he takes my free hand, the one not clutching Alex's terrarium, and lifts it to his lips. The kiss he places on my knuckles is feather-light, a touch of old-world charm in a modern setting. But there's nothing performative about the way his eyes hold mine, nothing casual in the slight pressure of his thumb against my wrist.
He doesn't push further, doesn't lean in for more. Instead, he lowers my hand but keeps it in his, our fingers intertwining as naturally as if we'd held hands a hundred times before.
The moment feels suspended, crystalline. Behind him, lantern light catches in his eyes, turning them from gray to silver. I should step back, put distance between us. I have enough complications in my life without adding another man to the mix. But I don't move, captured by the warmth of his hand and the quiet intensity of his gaze.
In the quiet bubble of this bridge, with Venice spread around us like a fairy tale come to life, it's too easy to forget why we're here. Too easy to imagine this is just a romantic getaway, not a desperate mission to fix my magical mistake. Too easy to lean into the connection forming between us, fragile but undeniable.
The spell is broken only by a burst of laughter from a passing group of tourists, reminding me that we're not alone.That time is still moving forward, and somewhere in this labyrinthine city, Jake, Marco, and Ben are looking for us.
Like my thoughts summon him, I spot Jake. Before he sees us, I notice his dripping silhouette at the far end of the bridge, scanning the streets with the focused intensity of a search dog. His hair is plastered to his forehead, his t-shirt clinging to his chest, water streaming from his jeans onto the stone beneath him. When his eyes lock onto us, his expression shifts from relief to something harder as he registers Luca's hand still entwined with mine. I step back instinctively, breaking the contact, and it's only then that I notice Jake is carrying something. It’s Alex's terrarium, the glass foggy with condensation but intact.
My hand flies to the stone railing beside me, where I'd set the terrarium down just moments ago, while massaging a cramp in my arm. The space is empty.
"Oh my god," I breathe, heart lurching into my throat. "Jake, what happened?"
He strides toward us, each step leaving a wet footprint on the ancient stone. His jaw is clenched so tight I can see a muscle jumping beneath his skin.
"Alex was in the water," he says, voice clipped. "I saw his terrarium floating in the canal a block up. I had to jump in to get it."
The canal beneath us isn't deep, but it's murky with centuries of silt and who knows what else. The thought of Jake diving in headfirst sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the evening chill.
"You jumped into the canal?" I ask, reaching for the terrarium. "For Alex?"
Jake's eyes flick to Luca, then back to me. "For you," he says simply, handing over the box with more force than necessary. Water from his sleeve drips onto my wrist. "Figured losing your ex-boyfriend to the Venice sewer system wasn't part of the plan."
I peer anxiously into the terrarium. There’s a light layer of liquid dampening everything, but it appears otherwise unharmed. Alex has retreated into his shell, probably traumatized by his near-death experience. But his shell is intact, its blue spiral as vibrant as ever against the damp substrate.
"Thank you," I say, meeting Jake's eyes. "Seriously, Jake. That was..." I trail off, not sure how to express the mix of gratitude and guilt churning in my stomach.
"No big deal," he says with a shrug that's too stiff to be casual. "What are friends for, right?"
Luca clears his throat. "That was impressive," he says, extending a hand to Jake. "Quick thinking. Not many would dive into a Venetian canal without hesitation."
Jake looks at Luca's outstretched hand, then at his own dripping clothes, as if to say I'm too wet for handshakes. But we all know that's not the real reason he leaves Luca hanging.
"I'm sure you would have done the same," Jake says, and though his words are polite, there's an edge beneath them sharp enough to cut glass. "If you hadn't been... occupied."
The implication hangs between them, as tangible as the mist in the air. Luca's easy smile falters, just for a second, before he recovers and drops his hand to his side.
"Perhaps," he concedes. "Though I doubt I would have spotted it in time. You have good eyes."
"I notice things," Jake says, gaze sliding pointedly to the space between Luca and me, now wider than it was moments ago. "It's a habit."
I clutch the terrarium closer, fighting the urge to step between them like a referee. The tension crackles, thick enough that even the couples around us seem to sense it, casting curious glances our way as they pass.
"Jake," I start, not sure what I'm going to say, but knowing I need to say something. "I didn't realize I'd put him down or that he’d fallen?—"
"It's fine," he interrupts, not looking at me. "He's safe. That's what matters."
Before I can respond, a familiar voice cuts through the tension. "If you two are done with your romantic movie moment, some of us are starving." Ben stands at the opposite end of the bridge from where Jake appeared, arms crossed over his chest, head tilted in exaggerated impatience. His timing is so perfect, so quintessentially Ben, that I can't help but laugh, a genuine burst of relief that dissipates some of the charged air around us.
