Page 94 of The Slug Crystal
"It's not a competition," I say.
Ben's thumb traces small circles on the back of my hand, the gesture sending tiny shivers up my arm. "Isn't it?" he murmurs, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. "Because I've never minded a challenge. I want to be your favorite boyfriend, if you’re going to have four."
The train rounds a curve, the motion shifting our bodies closer together. Neither of us moves to recreate distance. His shoulder is warm against mine, with our hands still joined. Something shifts between us in that moment. Perhaps it started shifting when I began to recognize how similar we are beneath our different exteriors, and I’m just now realizing it.Both of us are seeking connection, and both of us are hiding vulnerabilities behind our chosen shields.
"Venice, next stop," the conductor announces over the intercom, the crackling, loud voice breaking the moment.
Ben straightens, though his hand remains linked with mine. "Ready to fly?" he asks, his familiar grin returning, though a new warmth lingers in his eyes. Like a newfound understanding, or a possibility.
I nod, suddenly looking forward to the next leg of our journey with an anticipation that has little to do with finding Sarah and everything to do with discovering more layers to the man beside me.
Wednesday, 3:02PM. The Venice airstrip buzzes with activity as we approach, our taxi depositing us beside the aircraft where a uniformed attendant already waits. After the crowded train journey from Rome, the private plane feels like an impossible luxury. Boarding, I look at the luxury seats and almost groan in excitement.
"You're up front with me," Luca announces, passing Alex's carrier carefully to Jake. "I need a co-pilot."
"I know absolutely nothing about flying," I protest, eyeing the complicated array of instruments visible through the door to the cockpit, then my eyes flit to the much more luxurious looking seats in the passenger portion of the plane.
Luca's smile is confidence personified, his aviator sunglasses reflecting my uncertain expression back at me. "You don't need to. Just keep me company and look pretty."
Behind us, Ben makes a gagging sound. "And they say chivalry is dead."
"Ignore him," Luca says, placing a hand at the small of my back to guide me toward the front of the plane. "He's just jealous he doesn't get the best seat."
The others arrange themselves in the passenger seatsbehind the cockpit. Jake sits with Alex's terrarium secured beside him with special straps, Marco is already absorbed in his tablet, and Ben sprawls across his seat with deliberate casualness though I notice his knuckles are white where he grips the armrest.
"Not a fan of flying?" I ask him as I peek back at him, surprised I didn’t notice him seeming stressed on our previous flight.
Ben's smile is strained around the edges. "Love it. Especially in tiny tin cans piloted by overconfident Italians."
"This 'tiny tin can' costs more than your annual income," Luca retorts, sliding into the pilot's seat beside me. "And I'm exactly the right amount of confident for someone with my skills."
He moves through the pre-flight checklist with practiced efficiency, his hands confident on the controls, voice clear and professional as he communicates with the tower. This Luca is different from the one I've come to know. He’s focused, and precise, with his playboy charm temporarily set aside in favor of competence. It's surprisingly attractive.
"Ready?" he asks me, his gray eyes meeting mine over the rim of his sunglasses.
I nod, suddenly unable to speak as the engines roar to life, vibrating through the floor and up into my body. The sensation is both exhilarating and terrifying. There’s so much power contained in such a small space, all of it under Luca's control.
Takeoff is smoother than I expected, the ground falling away beneath us as we climb into a perfectly blue Venetian sky. The lagoon spreads out below like spilled mercury, catching the sunlight in blinding flashes. Luca handles the controls with the same effortless grace he brings to everything. Like dancing, baking, and navigating social situations.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" he says, nodding toward the view. "This is freedom."
I understand what he means. Up here, the complications waiting in Milan, like finding Sarah, curing Alex's condition, and the web of feelings weaving between all of us, seem distant. More manageable. The sky holds no expectations, no past mistakes, no conflicted loyalties.
"How long until Milan?" Marco asks from behind us, always practical, always planning.
"About an hour, with good conditions," Luca replies, checking something on the instrument panel. "Which we should have, according to the?—"
He cuts off abruptly, frowning at something outside my field of vision. I follow his gaze to see dark clouds gathering to the north, directly in our flight path.
"That wasn't on the radar," he mutters, more to himself than to me. "Tower didn't mention any weather systems."
"Is it a problem?" I ask, tension creeping into my voice.
Luca's smile returns, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Nothing I can't handle. Might get a little bumpy, though."
As if on cue, the plane gives a slight shudder as we pass into the first wave of dark clouds. It feels like a warning. Like the first tremor of what's to come. I grip the edge of my seat, stomach lurching uncomfortably.
"Just some light turbulence," Luca assures me, his voice steady even as the plane dips suddenly, then rights itself. "Completely normal."
