CHAPTER 11

“The Other Side Of The Door (Taylor’s Version)” – Taylor Swift

I CAN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT that hug.

It’s all I see when I close my eyes. And all I think about when I open them again.

It was just a hug though. Only a hug. I keep telling myself.

Yet nothing about it felt like one two acquaintances would share. Or even friends.

Although, this is how I felt about it.

What about how Luca feels?

What about Enrique? I remember how excited I was when I first got here, and even more so how much I wished we could have worked out years ago. Getting a second chance like this has to be fate.

On that same note, I don’t have any tangible proof that hints Luca is more interested in me than he is, and so the best thing to do is to drop whatever’s going on in my head right now completely. After all, it probably is just in my head .

After barely getting much sleep last night, I leave my bed far earlier than I would have liked this morning, deciding to go lounge by the pool.

Luca knocks on my door shortly after I’ve returned to my room, offering to go with him to select snacks for our movie night.

_________

The rain’s already started when we arrive back at Luca’s suite, where Enrique suggested spending the evening in. After carrying in a bunch of paper bags from the local grocery store, I set the few in my arms on the counter by the television and try to remove my coat first.

The one time I randomly decided to pack a coat with me, it just had to be the only one with a zipper that’s practically broken. And it’s also not wanting to budge at the moment.

I try to fidget around with it, hoping I can fix it on my own, not particularly wanting to ask Luca for his help.

He’s barely looked at me since we left. Maybe I’m just overthinking, but Luca’s also more observant than this. Something in the air just feels off . Yet I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.

I glance at him, while my skin continues to get warmer. “Luca, my jacket,” I finally blurt out.

“What about it?” he asks dryly, his eyes still avoidant as he unpacks the bags.

Okay, this feels intentional .

“The zipper’s stuck,” I explain, puzzled.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Luca says, his sarcasm also different, resembling the one he used during our first interaction.

I drop my shoulders, growing frustrated. “Well help me. ”

“Fine.” He stops what he’s doing and walks over, still barely meeting my eyes. “Did you put glue on this or what?” he asks, while tugging on the zipper.

“Yeah, just for fun.” I match his bitter tone.

His fingers grip onto my coat more firmly, and I glance down to find his knuckles sliding up the blue fabric. The more pressure he applies, the more it feels like my heart’s tugging along with the zipper. Glancing back up doesn’t help anything, when I catch the deep crease of his brows, and the one golden strand that’s decided to dangle against his forehead right now of all moments.

“I can’t undo it,” Luca admits after a good minute. “It’s pretty stuck.”

I let out a deep sigh. “Okay, can you please help me take it off then?”

It’s the first time today he actually looks into my eyes long enough, the gesture making me jolt back a step, my heartbeat echoing louder than the friction between my zipper and coat from a second ago.

He takes a deep breath, before mumbling, “Fine.”

Between our messy glances and the pressure from his hands, my skin is practically sweating as we both try to lift up my coat from the bottom.

When he finally pulls it over my head, I feel a breeze tickle my chest.

“Your shirt,” he blankly states.

I look down at my body and then groan on the inside, realizing that my shirt came off with my jacket. Grateful that my hair quickly falls down my sides, I wrap my arms around my chest in so much shock that I suggest, “Did you do that on purpose? ”

“Yeah, I wanted to see you in your bra, so I decided to take off your jacket that you asked me to help you take off,” Luca deadpans.

Maybe my question was a little uncalled for, but why is he acting like such a dick all of a sudden?

His response makes me feel less bad for even saying it, probably why I then challenge, “Well I wouldn’t put it past you.”

He narrows his eyes at me, more annoyed. “You’re the one that asked me for help.”

Feeling self-conscious suddenly, I wince, “Why are you looking at me?!”

“Because you’re talking to me!” he defends.

Okay. He’s not wrong.

It’s not like he’s staring at my chest either, but just the fact that he’s looking in my general direction is enough to make me panic at my sudden exposure.

I take my jacket from him to try and find my shirt. After quickly putting it on, I finally say, “I wonder what put you in such a good mood.” Then walk toward his door. “I’m going to go take a shower. Thanks for the jacket by the way,” I add sourly.

When Luca first knocked on my door earlier today, there was this sudden giddiness that rushed through me, but now I’m just glad I’ll be seeing Enrique soon before we all meet again as a group later tonight.

_________

While Enrique and I are kissing outside my suite after our lunch date, I almost forget all about the bizarre exchange with Luca. My mind’s so focused on Enrique’s lips that when his hands travel down my back, my body doesn’t even have a chance to react, until he subtly holds my ass.

A new kind of warmth tickles my skin, my heart pausing. But then my throat feels a thousand times drier, and now I completely freeze.

Before I have a chance to process a touch that I’m feeling for the first time, or overthink what’s going to happen next, Enrique pulls away. “See you tonight,” he says, while grinning.

The fact that he just did that makes me wonder if he wants to do more than just kissing. And soon.

Despite how weird things ended earlier today, I find myself only wanting to share this with Luca.

As soon as Enrique leaves, I immediately knock on Luca’s door with an all too familiar panic. “It’s me, Jasmine!”

While I continue mindlessly knocking, he finally opens his door, but strangely only to a crack. “What is it?”

“Do you have someone over?” I ask.

His brows crease. “What? No.”

“Are you naked then?” I mock.

He rolls his eyes before opening his door, now leaving me with an image that’s going to haunt my dreams.

Luca stands in the doorway with just a towel on, the piece of cloth doing its best to scrunch around his hips. I know I’ve seen him shirtless already. But this is sending me to another orbit. His v-lines somehow look even more distinct than before, the dangerous contours traveling so intentionally to where my mind should not be thinking about.

But I am. And I need to get it together.

Wondering if my mouth has been open this entire time, I say, “Is that all you’re wearing?”

“No,” Luca deadpans. “I took a shower with my swimsuit on.”

His sarcasm feels friendly again .

Too focused on his body, I almost miss his slightly damp hair.

I redirect back to why I came here in the first place, before he notices the way I’m blankly staring at him. If he hasn’t already. “Quick question, if a guy holds your ass, is that his way of saying he wants to hook up with you?”

Luca sighs. “Let me go change.” Even he knows there’s nothing quick about any of my questions.

I’m starting to think that the hug could have been the reason why he was acting so weird earlier. Maybe he thinks that I like him and doesn’t want to give me the wrong idea?

He leaves the room, but his scent still lingers in the air, the refreshing mix of citrus, basil, and olive leaf making me hum. But it’s nothing compared to when he returns, now wearing a cozy sweater that looks like the softest fabric to touch.

I make myself comfortable on the couch, and he walks toward the same chair by his nightstand as last time. “I don’t think there’s a definitive answer to your question,” Luca finally replies.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I mean, he probably just wanted to touch your ass. He could also want to hook up, but the two aren’t necessarily related.”

I groan. “Is it normal to be this nervous when someone touches your ass though?”

He leans forward, while resting his elbows on his thighs. “Jasmine, I think it’s normal to be nervous about all of it.”

I try to avoid the comfort hearing my name from his lips keeps bringing me. “ Really? Did you also find it hard to think of things to say when you first held hands with someone?” I mock myself, now remembering the conversation Enrique and I shared at the hike.

“I was nervous,” Luca replies. “I don’t think it affected our conversations though, but we’re all different. ”

I lean back against the wall, frustrated. “Why does no one talk about how nerve-racking all of this is? And I’m not even talking about sex anymore. Touching a person’s hand, when someone holds a part of your body that you’re not used to, or learning how to kiss. Which mind you, I still don’t even know if I’m doing correctly.”

“I feel like we’ve all felt that way though at some point,” he offers. “And a lot of it comes down to the dynamic that you have with someone. You could be a pro at kissing, but not mesh well with the person you’re currently kissing and then question your own technique.”

“I don’t know, Luca. The way my heart was beating and how nauseous I felt, I don’t know if any of that was normal. And if this is how I’m reacting to him holding my fucking ass, how am I even going to handle it when he finally touches my—” I sigh and redirect, “other areas.”

His face softens. “Look, I can’t explain why you feel the way that you do. But if I were to guess, a lot of what you’re saying is probably because you’ve had a lot more time to worry about it all.”

“But I was always nervous about it,” I explain. “Even during college.”

He nods. “Sure. But it’s only getting worse the longer you’ve gone without any of it.”

“I suppose.” Though, he’s right considering every year that passes without anything happening, it all seems even more daunting to me.

Luca adds, “The most subtle forms of physical contact can feel embarrassing when you’re not used to it. We all have that fear of the unknown. And then you have the fear of feeling like you’re behind to add to everything else. Which you obviously aren’t. No one is . ”

“That’s a good way to put it,” I say. “I think you summed up my relationship with overthinking perfectly. Having had more time to do it, it’s made things feel even heavier.”

I never gave it much thought from this lens before. That fear grows more irrational the more time you have to dwell on it.

Wondering how he’s coped with all of this before, I ask, “What helped you remove some of these nerves?”

Luca leans back against his chair, pausing with an expression that implies he wants to give a thoughtful answer. “Not putting the other person on a pedestal,” he finally says. “It helps to think of it like you’re both nervous and going through the same motions.”

“Even if the other person is way more experienced than me?” I say skeptically.

“Having more experience doesn’t eliminate your nerves,” he says.

“You’re trying to tell me that someone who has a lot of experience can feel as nervous as someone who has none of it?”

“It’s possible. But obviously in different ways. It just means you both care.”

My chest warms up. “When did you feel comfortable being intimate with someone?” I ask more quietly.

Through pursed lips, he hesitates, “I don’t think you should be comparing us like that.”

I shake my head. “No I’m not. I’m just curious to hear more about your experience and how it felt for you. Maybe it’ll help me at least understand why I feel this way about this.” Remembering to also respect his boundaries, I clarify, “Actually, I know how this could be a little invasive. I wasn’t really thinking when I just asked you that, so no pressure to respond.”

“We can talk about it,” he reassures. “I lost my virginity when I was 19. ”

I hold onto the pillow next to me with a growing intrigue. “Were you also nervous about being naked around someone else for the first time?”

“If I’m being completely honest, I wasn’t as nervous about being naked around her as much as I was about living up to her expectations. In terms of comparison to other guys she’d been with.”

The more he’s telling me, the more I want to know. “And how did you know what you were doing?”

“I didn’t,” he explains. “I learned a lot from things my friends had told me from before. And then I learned more from my girlfriend at the time who was 21.”

I find myself growing even more frustrated at the reminder of one of the biggest double standards with sex that bothers me to this day. “See, this really pisses me off. Not to single you out at all. But to add to your first point, I just think it’s pretty frustrating how women aren’t told much about how sex works, while men are. Like guys learn from guys, and then girls learn from guys also. Obviously not always but just in general.”

Luca’s eyes turn even more gentle. “I know. It’s not fair. There’s definitely a double standard.”

Deeply relating to this, I confess, “For the longest time, I barely even knew how any of it worked. Growing up, I didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. I get that as a household it’s not a topic that you just bring up casually. But I knew some friends from college who at least had private conversations with some people in their families about it or at least with their mom. But my mom never once brought it up, and it made me feel uncomfortable to ever bring it up.

“I almost felt ashamed for even wanting to talk about it. Yet a part of me couldn’t even blame her though since I doubt her mom helped her with any of it.” I take a deep breath. “It’s just so fucking stressful since it’s almost like as women, we’re expected to figure it out on our own .”

“I’m sorry,” Luca says. “I’ve heard similar stories from a good handful of my friends, and they’re also in their twenties. So you’re not alone. I’d give yourself some credit though for talking about it like this. It’s the first step, and it’s not an easy one to just jump into.”

My cheeks warm up. “Thank you. That means a lot. It’s been a journey that’s for sure.”

His lips curve slightly. “Yeah, I mean, not feeling like you can express yourself is a pretty shitty feeling. So I think it’s great that you’re putting in the effort yourself to push through the unfamiliarity.”

I try to respond to his comment, but the gooey, warm feeling has now spread across my entire body. So I redirect the conversation, “What are your thoughts on sleeping with someone soon after meeting them?”

“I don’t think the length of time that you’re with someone always translates to a stronger connection,” Luca replies. “But it’s also rare to really know someone in a short amount of time. Generally, I try not to sleep with anyone unless I’m in love with them.”

My jaw is most likely on the floor at that last part. “What made you decide on that?” I ask.

“I went out with this girl twice before we slept together,” he explains. “There wasn’t any connection really except for physical attraction so after we’d hook up it always left me feeling a little hollow.”

“I’d never imagine hearing a guy say that,” I confess, surprised .

“Yes it was sex,” he admits. “And obviously during it, I didn’t have anything to complain about. But it feels completely different when it’s with someone you have deeper feelings for. Of course there’s nothing wrong with sleeping with someone right away or casually. It’s just personally not for me.”

The only logical explanation why I’m this fascinated hearing his stories is a direct result of being so deprived of these things from my own life. While I could listen to him talk about this all day, I say, “I’m sorry if I’m asking you too much. I just never really had anyone to talk to about these things. My best friend and I have talked about some of it together but not in this detail.”

“It’s okay,” Luca says nonchalantly. “I understand that you like talking about sex.”

Blood rushes to my cheeks. “I—”

He smirks. “I’m kidding. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” When he sees my posture relax a bit, he holds a sincere gaze with my eyes and adds, “But judging by your reaction just now, it’s also okay to like talking about sex.”

I smile timidly, his words giving me the confidence to bring up what I couldn’t before. “Last weekend at the bar, I couldn’t even repeat the sexual phrases back to you. That’s why I said ‘those things.’ How dumb is that? Just saying certain things out loud makes me uncomfortable, and I don’t know why.”

“Jasmine, it’s not dumb. Like I said, you’re just not used to it.”

My eyes widen with exaggeration. “If you only knew how much I worry about this…”

He crosses his arms confidently, as if waiting for a challenge. “Okay, tell me the biggest thing you’re worried about.”

I pause, for a moment wondering if I should say this to him. I glance over at his understanding eyes while he looks into my vulnerable ones. Then, I realize, I’ve already said so much to him. Revealed so many fears and worries. What’s one more? “Don’t laugh,” I request.

He reassures, “I already told you I won’t.”

My heartbeat is so loud, I’m convinced he hears it from across the room as I blurt out the sentence as quickly as I can, “What if he’s going down on me, and I don’t look or taste like he’s used to?”

Maintaining eye contact, Luca leans forward and says, “Then you look him straight in the eye and tell him to go fuck himself .”

I laugh in frustration. “I didn’t know it was that simple. Thank you.”

He shrugs, while leaning back. “I’m telling you, you’re worried for nothing. No guy or girl looks the same. If he’s lucky enough to be in the presence of your—” I think he changes his previous choice of words when he sees me squirm, “to be down there, he’s not going to compare you to someone else, and if he does, he’s irrelevant .”

I exhale, releasing all the tension that just saying a question like that out loud gives me, now feeling lighter because of it. “Everything you’re saying sounds nice, but I’m worried I’ll never be comfortable with any of it. I just don’t see it happening. And I’m trying so fucking hard.” I close my eyes, the doubt returning.

When I open them back up a second later, Luca clearly looks like he’s waiting for me to gain back my composure. “Okay, then just stop trying.” Clever. By agreeing with me, he thinks there might be a chance for me to finally let go of my fears. “If you’re not being yourself, it won’t last anyway.”

Now I play the other side, “But what about changing the way you think about things to keep growing as a person?”

“There’s only so much you can change about yourself,” he argues. “Do you really want to be changing the things that are already great about you? For what? A guy ? ”

“That’s not what I mean,” I explain. “I’m referring to the parts that will help you improve for the better, and embrace the things that freaked you out before. I thought it would be easier to change those things, but it’s a lot harder than I imagined.”

He runs his fingers through his hair leisurely. “Listen, you’re very smart. No matter what I say, you’re still going to worry about something and most likely have an answer for everything.” It’s scary how quickly he’s figured me out . “So I can’t give you this perfect conclusion. But I do think with the right person , you’re not going to panic about the things you’re worried about right now.”

This doesn’t sound like what Luca previously said. Either his prior explanation was more nuanced than I first thought, or he’s changed his mind after hearing me out more. Nonetheless, it’s comforting to hear him say all of this.

The first interruption since we started our conversation happens when my phone lights up to a group text with unknown numbers. I recognize Enrique’s number though, and then put the remaining puzzle pieces together when Luca’s phone buzzes as well.

I was wondering if I’d ever receive Luca’s number.

Distracted by this, I almost forget to read the message, only to be disappointed when finding out Enrique is cancelling for tonight. Something about having to help with a leak in the lobby from the rain. What’s even more surprising is that he adds that Luca, Sofia, and I should still have the movie night.

Sofia sends a message shortly after, though, also cancelling for tonight because of the rain. I wonder if Enrique wished he hadn’t suggested for us to continue with the plans if it would just be Luca and me.

“I could go if you want?” I say, in such a way that implies that I want to stay. Because I do .

“I mean, you’re already here. It’s up to you,” Luca says, his tone so casual, further confirming that this is all purely platonic to him.

Although he technically also suggested that he doesn’t mind me staying. So I’ll take it. “Okay. I’ll stay for just a little bit then.”

_________

It’s hard not to be this affected by Luca when he keeps doing or saying things that are so subtle yet meaningful. Like the way he’s placed a blanket for us on the floor to sit on while we share some of the snacks once he starts the movie. I clock how he’s only sitting a couple feet away from me. Wondering if he’ll move back a bit, my stomach gets all jittery with excitement when he doesn’t.

“Are you excited for the game tomorrow?” he says.

I almost forgot that it’s tomorrow. Which means the trip is already almost halfway over. Trying to forget about the knot that’s started to form in my stomach, I reply, “Oh, you have no idea. It’s the first soccer match, sorry football , that I’ll be going to in person.”

“You know we’re just teasing you? You can call it whatever you want.” He flashes a crooked grin. “Although, I highly recommend for you to not refer it to as soccer at the stadium tomorrow.”

I laugh. “Noted. Thanks for the warning.”

“You have enough pressure on you as is,” he adds, while raising his brows.

I roll my eyes. “I feel a little bad for Enrique, though. For being pulled back to work tonight, and then having to watch his team lose tomorrow.”

“It’s not our fault that we happen to like the better team. ”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been telling him the past few weeks.” I pause when remembering how we only reconnected over a week ago. “Well, just the past week or so.”

He chuckles. “Right.”

It’s nice that whatever was happening earlier seems to have dissipated and things seem to be back to normal now. The sound of the rain sprinkling against the window adds to the growing comfort of the evening. Not knowing how to ask my next question without it sounding like the most random thing to bring up, I take a sip of my water and try my best to casually say, “So are you dating anyone right now?”

Luca’s brows crease amusedly. “ Smooth transition.” He takes a sip of his drink, then looks at me as if he’s trying to read me. “Why are you asking me that?”

“No reason,” I say.

He cocks his head, not buying my response for one second. “Sorry, but I find it hard to believe that you of all people would ask something that specific without having a motive behind it.”

Maybe I’m wondering if there’s someone else occupying his thoughts…

“Or maybe for once I’m just curious since you know so much about me, and I barely know that much about you,” I say.

Luca sighs. “No, I’m not.”

I’m embarrassed to admit how the suspense that was building in my heart turns all warm and fuzzy at his response. “That’s what I thought,” I say.

He scoffs. “Don’t look too shocked.”

I sit up and quickly clarify, “No, it’s just that I had a feeling you weren’t since I assumed it would’ve come up by now, but you’re also too mysterious for even my advanced analyzing skills to figure out. ”

“You’re the first person to call me that,” he says, while raising his brows.

“Mysterious?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess I’m just having a hard time figuring you out,” I explain.

His lips curve to the side. “What’s with you and having to decode everything?”

“Just trying to make sense of a world that makes no sense .”

He crosses his arms. “And how’s that going?”

“Lately?” I say. “Both better and more confusing than ever before.”

His eyes widen as he drops his arms to his sides. “I can’t imagine you being confused.”

Every time he smirks at me, it makes my stomach tingle, and my blood rush to my cheeks. Right now is no exception. Trying to keep it together, I reply, “Well for starters, sometimes I wonder if Enrique really likes me, or if I’m just another summer fling to him.” Hearing my words out loud confirms to me that part of this is my fault for not confiding in Enrique about my experience with intimacy. It’s just I haven’t felt comfortable to do so.

Luca bites down on his lip while I wait for a response. “Yeah, I can’t really answer that one. All I’ll say is that in the time I’ve known him, he’s only had one serious relationship.”

“That doesn’t really bother me though,” I say. “I just wish I knew exactly how he feels about me .”

“Do you really like him?” Luca asks with a tone I can’t quite pick up on. Before I can read his face, he looks down at his plate again.

Yet the way he looked into my eyes a second ago suddenly catches me off guard, as if the answer is almost important to him .

“Yes, of course I do,” I reply. “Why?”

“Okay. Great,” he says casually, before continuing to eat.

That’s it?

“No, what were you going to ask me?” I say.

“Nothing,” he says. “It’s not important anymore.”

“If I hypothetically were to say that I’m not sure, what would you have said?”

He’s not buying the whole hypothetical thing any less than I am, but sighs and explains, “Instead of focusing so much on if he likes you, maybe figure out if you really like him first. That’ll save you both the trouble.”

For someone who felt so confident about her feelings for a guy a week ago, why does this man’s response make me start to doubt everything ?

Instead, I deflect, “Do you know Enrique’s type?”

After everything Luca just said, I’m not surprised that he almost looks a little annoyed that the first question I ask is once again a reference to what Enrique likes, rather than what I want. To my surprise, he still replies, “He doesn’t have one.”

I might as well ask Luca while we’re on the topic. For research purposes.

“Do you have a type?”

“Not really,” he almost hesitates, given how my questions are now all over the place. But he surprises me, when he also asks me, “Do you?”

From a complete physical standpoint, Luca comes pretty damn close to it.

Of course I can’t tell him that though, so I opt with, “Someone who’s loyal, respectful, and has a good sense of humor.”

He scoffs. “I don’t think anyone dislikes those traits. That’s hardly a type.”

“Yes it is,” I argue.

“Okay. Then we have the same type then with your logic.”

“So there’s nothing in particular that makes you love someone even more?” I ask.

“I think loving someone is overrated,” he says stoically.

My brows furrow. “In what way?”

“I’d much rather find someone who likes me,” Luca explains.

“Don’t we all,” I say.

“No, really, it’s easier to love someone than to like them.”

“I think I know what you’re trying to say. Like with family,” I add to his point.

“Yeah that’s a good example, but I think it can apply to anyone,” he says. “Recently I’ve been thinking how we spend so much time worrying about how the words ‘I love you’ will finally sound when the person you feel that way for confesses it to you or vice versa. But do those same people really like you for who you are? I haven’t found it.”

It occurs to me that Luca is finally opening up to me all of a sudden. I don’t know how we got here, but I don’t want it to end. “It’s a little odd hearing you say that,” I confess.

“You don’t have to agree with any of it,” he says. “It’s just how I feel lately.”

“No I mean, I feel like you’d be a really good boyfriend.”

He narrows his eyes at me, but his cheeks look a bit flushed. “I’m not so sure about that.”

I can already sense that there has to be a story behind this. Feeling even nosier than usual, I ask, “Are you referring to a breakup?”

He has that same blank expression I’ve seen him make only twice before, but this time snaps out of it right away. “Unfortunately,” he confirms.

This is good. At least now he’s not avoiding it altogether. And now that we’re also on the topic, I bring up something else I’ve always wondered about, “What’s the biggest lesson you’ve learned from a breakup?”

“The things people love you for are the same things one day they’ll hate you for,” Luca answers, the anger in his voice palpable.

“Tell me how you really feel,” I say lightheartedly, to ease the tension.

“And then when you change they’re all ‘oh you changed? why did you change?’ When all along the same people kept making you feel like you had to change.”

Oh he’s really getting into it now.

I’m actually insane because seeing him get this worked up about something even though he clearly sounds pissed is pretty hot. But that’s not to say that I don’t feel bad for him as well. Since it’s evident that whatever he’s referring to must have really hit him hard.

I offer, “Okay, now that I can relate to sadly. I’ve always been told by my parents that I’m not ‘realistic’ with what I want and expect too much and basically should change my expectations to cater to what’s more ‘normal’ and ‘practical.’ But the problem is even the times I changed myself to fit what they wanted, I was still criticized for something.”

Luca drops his hands into his lap. “That shit drives me insane. It’s what also happens in relationships. Your partner not being satisfied with the version of you that you are at the moment even if it’s the same one that they liked before.”

I then quite literally pull my hair tie off, and almost lay down onto the floor. “You were right. I really should just stop thinking about all of it. I’m already exhausted. ”

He snorts at my sudden change in composure as my attention turns back toward the TV, forgetting the movie’s been playing this entire time.

Of course it’s a kissing scene that gains my interest, to which I immediately sit up again. “Look! Just look at that kiss. That’s what I want.”

“Very cute,” Luca deadpans.

But he also looks, I don’t know, almost a little happy to see me look this excited at something so frivolous.

“I want that,” I say. “To feel so immersed in a kiss where I don’t even realize where I am.”

“It’s a movie,” he says, a trace of mockery returning. “They’ll probably end up breaking up in the sequel. Just watch.”

“I know it might sound bad,” I admit, “but sometimes I wish that I experienced heartbreak after a breakup. If that meant I could at least experience love.”

Luca doesn’t seem too pleased with my sudden confession as he raises his brows a bit seriously. “I don’t know about that. Having a painful experience at something you care about ending isn’t really something you wish for.”

“No, of course,” I quickly agree. “But isn’t that the trade-off sometimes? Like going through that disappointment rather than never having experienced the same thing that brought you that joy?”

His posture tenses up. “You’re oversimplifying it.”

Wanting to show him more of my perspective on this, I suggest, “What about relating it to a friendship? It’s the worst feeling when you lose a friend, but imagine feeling like you never had a friend your entire life?”

“A platonic relationship couldn’t be more different from a romantic one,” he says, while his jaw tightens .

I clench my fingers into my palms, wondering if I should continue. But seeing the veins across Luca’s neck pop against his skin is now making me feel self-conscious that I’m saying the wrong thing. That he’s misunderstanding me.

I take a deep breath and clarify, “Okay, yes. But in both cases, being deprived of ever having a friendship or relationship is not only a painful feeling, but it’s also very isolating.”

His Adam’s apple flexes as he exhales. “I don’t know how to explain it, but the pain from a relationship ending is just different . The emotional attachment when someone breaks your heart is enough to turn your world upside down. It can make you question everything that you thought you knew about yourself. No matter how confident you thought you were.”

I don’t understand. He usually hears me out. But now he’s not.

“I'm not trying to downplay the pain from any of those things,” I say. “I just like to think that even if one person disappoints you, there's so many other great people out there, and—”

Luca cuts me off, looks me dead in the eyes with an anger I haven’t seen in them yet, and almost snarls, “Maybe you shouldn’t have an opinion. You haven’t experienced any of it.”

He pauses. I pause.

His expression quickly fades at the realization of what he just said, after seeing my face fall presumably.

Something in his tone makes me think he’s been waiting to say this. Like it’s been bottling up inside him.

“ Wait . Jasmine. I was out of line,” he says, his voice shaky. “I didn’t mean that.”

I see the regret painted across his face, but it’s too late .

My eyes go blank. “No. You just told me the truth . The way you always do.” I direct my attention toward his shoulders when I say this, not able to look into his eyes right now.

“Jasmine,” he repeats.

I can’t hear him anymore.

It’s not like he just commented on my biggest insecurity, and used it against me to make me feel small. There was a reason I withheld this from everyone, except for my best friend. At least that removed the sense of power that anyone could hold over me.

I try to remind myself that they’re just words. But the same way words can shatter you no matter how much you wish they can’t, words also can’t fix you the way you wish they could.

I get up calmly, untucking my hair from behind my ears as I head toward the door. That way he doesn’t notice the tears already welling up in my eyes.

The few words Luca managed to say stung far more than any comment I’ve received over the years by different guys I’ve had remote feelings for. Because at least with them, no trust was built.

Unlike the trust between Luca and me that crumbles before my eyes as I walk out of his suite.