CHAPTER 8

“Gold Rush” – Taylor Swift

IT’S BEEN NICE TO SLEEP without any interruptions. That is, until the loudest drumbeat makes me immediately jolt out of my bed.

My eyes struggle to open as I grumble at the blinding sun also directly hitting my face. Trying to avoid the sound, I cover my face with a giant pillow. I look over to check my alarm, only to find out that I still have one more hour of sleep left.

My window. I forgot to close it again. It’s just so damn hot.

Then my ears pick up on the familiar melody.

As soon as I recognize the song that’s embedded in my mind from my childhood, I know this is all Luca.

It’s the Pirates of The Caribbean main theme song. And it’s So. Fucking. Loud.

I scream, “Luca! Very funny! Now shut it off!”

When there’s no response, I run to his suite and pound on his door.

The music abruptly stops right before he opens the door with the smuggest grin on his face. “Good morning.”

“It would have been one if you didn’t play your fucking pirate national anthem,” I say, too pissed to care if my breath smells or if my hair looks like a tornado.

He turns toward his room and then back at me. “Oh you heard that?”

“I wish I hadn’t.”

“That song’s a classic.”

I love that song. Just not when it obnoxiously disturbs my sleep. And so I will not be informing him about my further admiration of his music taste. Instead, I continue to glare at him, knowing he did this as payback for my loud music from yesterday morning. “I’m going to get you for this. I don’t know how. But I will .”

“How will I sleep tonight?” Luca says, the words setting off a firework in my chest. It’s not like he said it in a dirty way. But I still caught the half-second glance he paid to my lips. Or maybe to my cheeks. I can’t quite recall. I’m still half-asleep. The very opposite of Luca, who’s as energetic as ever as he nonchalantly walks past me, out the door, and toward the pathway of flora.

He puts on his sunglasses and adds, “Now if you’ll excuse me the omelette bar gets pretty busy on Monday mornings. See you for surfing… or not ?”

“You wish! I’ll make it!” I call out, my eyes about to pop out of my face with the way I’m still scowling at him.

_________

Luca must have been thrilled to hear that I actually wouldn’t be joining them to surf after getting the worst cramps. Knowing how shitty I feel on the first day of my period, I sadly messaged Enrique that I’d also be skipping today’s activities altogether. Except I spared him the details and just said I wasn’t feeling great. Things are weird enough between us that he doesn’t need to know the details of my menstrual cycle.

The only thing I managed to do today was nap, trying my best to forget about my cramps, until I woke up in the early evening and ordered some room service.

At least I could use this time to look for a job since I’m not planning on wasting the rest of this vacation once I feel good enough to get out of bed. But then I curse underneath my breath when I realize I didn’t pack my laptop charger.

The chances of Luca having an extra charger are slim, yet it’s still worth a shot to ask. So I suck up my frustration at his lovely gesture from earlier this morning and knock on his door for the second time today, wondering if he’s also back from surfing.

When he opens it immediately, his arrogant smirk and slightly damp hair almost startles me. “Should I just give you my extra room key?”

“Very funny.” I fake laugh. “Do you happen to have a MacBook charger? My laptop is about to die, and I forgot to pack mine.”

“Yeah, I do,” he says.

“You do?” I parrot. “What are the odds?”

His eyes grow wide, clearly mimicking me. “Oh look, it’s fate .”

I roll my eyes, but this time I actually smile at his banter.

Luca offers, “I’ll go and look for it and bring it to you when I find it.” He touches the back of his hair and quickly adds, “Or you could come in while I look for it?” I think he included this to be polite. He must also see my laptop tucked under my arm. I don’t know why I brought it with me. Maybe as proof? I’m not exactly thinking, still in pain and now groggy from my nap .

Although, I don’t mind waiting inside. Maybe it’s my nosiness. Or the trace of mystery that lingers around Luca. But going into his suite, seems the closest I’ll be getting to his room, my curiosity for the faintest of things clearly not stopping with a guy who’s this handsome.

“I can come in,” I say. Smile timid. Mind not really thinking this through. Then my heartbeat immediately speeds up as I enter his suite, walking past his doorway, spotting his bed, realizing that I’m now alone with a guy in a setting like this for the first time.

Luca rummages through his things, trying to find the charger while I take a seat on the closest couch next to the door, continuing my job search.

He hands me the cords not even a minute later, just as I’ve begun a new application.

“Oh. Thanks,” I say, slightly delayed as I finish the line I’m working on. “Sorry, I was just filling out a job application.”

“You can keep working on that if you want.” He gestures toward my laptop.

“That’s okay. I don’t want to bother you more than I have.” I give a small smile. It would be nice to have some company, though. Distracting, yes? But still nice.

“You wouldn’t be,” he says. “I was just going to read a little before going to bed.”

“Okay, great. Thanks.” Not really wanting to leave, I don’t bother questioning him again.

Luca goes to sit on a chair right next to his bed near a reading lamp when his voice catches me by surprise. “What happened to you earlier? Did you walk to the wrong beach?” he deadpans.

My cheeks get all tingly, knowing he noticed I wasn’t there. “No,” I explain, “I got the worst fucking cramps that don’t seem to be going away anytime soon. ”

His eyes soften. “Oh I’m sorry,” he says, looking as if he’s about to get up. “Did you need any pain medication? I can go get you some.”

“That’s okay. Thank you.” A warmth fills my chest at such a simple offer.

I realize how he’s not reading yet. Instead, he’s engaged with his phone before I notice him smile at his screen moments later.

I immediately wonder if he’s texting someone. A girlfriend? Or maybe one of the women from the club that seemed to be madly in love with him?

As I’m finishing another application I hear Luca ask, “Any luck with the job search?”

His eyes meet mine from the distance, my heart jumping at the sudden contact, before I glance back at my screen. “No,” I reply. “But what’s new?”

“What are you looking for?” he asks.

“Something in publishing,” I say.

“Anything specific in publishing?”

“Yeah, I studied creative writing, but I’m trying to look for something that’s more on the editorial side.”

“That’s cool,” he says. “Are you applying through company websites or places like LinkedIn?”

Reminded again at how thoughtful his questions are, I reply, “Literally everywhere. Although where I apply is irrelevant. They’re all just as useless.” I sigh. “When did finding a decent job become just as difficult as winning the lottery?”

He chuckles. “I’d argue it’s even more difficult.”

“Sadly, that’s probably true,” I agree. “Do you miss work, or is it nice being on holiday for a while?”

“There’s not much to miss about crunching numbers all day, but it pays the bills,” Luca says, putting his phone away. “And the holiday’s been good, but there’s this girl who’s been taking up most of my time lately.” He smirks.

I blush. “That’s a pity. I hope she’s making it worth your while at least.”

He blushes, my heart now singing.

“She’s…,” he says, lips parting on a pause, “distracting.”

That’s enough to leave me a flustered mess. With brows also creased, wondering exactly what he meant by that. “Okay,” I say, quickly redirecting my eyes back to the screen, “here’s a good one. Well. The title sounds nice. ‘Editorial Intern.’”

“Are you looking for an internship?” he asks.

“No,” I admit, “not really. But I think it’s paid. There’s literally nothing else. Ugh.”

Luca walks over and sits on the chair next to me, making me squirm from the proximity. “What about that one? ‘Editorial Assistant,’” he suggests, while browsing the postings alongside me.

I smile wide when I review the details, instantly recognizing the company name. “Is that at Chegg? That brings back so many memories.”

It seems like Luca also didn’t notice this at first when he snorts. “The amount of times Chegg saved my ass.”

I laugh. “Literally same . One time my entire lit final was posted on there the night before my exam. I almost cried when my professor handed me the booklet.”

“Pretty sure that was also me, but with my econ final.” He runs his fingers through his golden hair, adding, “I don’t think anyone going into college thought that those moments would be some of the best highlights but what a feeling.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Both still grinning, we pause when our eyes meet.

And I don’t mean just any eye contact .

This is like eye contact, eye contact.

The one where your mind spirals into thinking something completely unrelated and usually not appropriate .

But when he looks away in the blink of an eye to focus back on the screen, I feel my cheeks flush again.

Trying to avoid how a brief glance felt that moving, I look back at the page, noticing a posting titled as “Associate Editor.” I then find myself sighing for the hundredth time tonight after reading how many years of experience it requires. “Fuck.”

“What?” Luca asks.

“This one requires at least five years of experience. I only have three,” I explain. “Who has this much experience for an entry-level role? These aren’t even entry-level roles.”

“Don’t you just love when you still have to have experience to get a job that markets itself as one that needs little experience?” he says, leaning back against the couch.

I turn toward him. “You know what I love even more than that? When you’re constantly told to get experience but never get the said position that will give you experience so what then?” I quickly clarify, “I’m still referring to getting a job.”

“I knew that.” He chuckles. “ Another vicious cycle.” Then he focuses on the screen again. “Mind if I check a few pages too?”

“Yeah. Don’t have too much fun,” I say, handing him my laptop.

I wonder how long I’m focused on Luca’s hands while he’s working over the keyboard. The way his long fingers are quickly flickering across it. How his knuckles keep flexing every second or so. My throat growing increasingly drier with each moment.

When the clicking sound from his typing stops, my mind abruptly returns back to where it should be focused on, the job s , Luca redirecting my attention to the screen. “Here, what about this one?”

I read out loud, “‘Production Editor,’ Ooh I like that.”

He scrolls through the qualifications, asking, “Do you have professional experience with editing, contract negotiation, project management, quality assurance regulation, and budgeting?”

“No. But I’m still going to apply,” I reply, taking my laptop back from him.

He snorts. “Sounds like a foolproof plan.”

“Applying to things outside my area of expertise hasn’t stopped me before,” I say. “Besides, if I’m going to get rejected for a role, it might as well be one that seems more interesting.”

“Fair enough,” he says with a tilt of his head.

After finishing the application, I look up from my laptop and notice how he’s arranged everything. Remembering Enrique mention that Luca and his sister are usually here for most of the summer, it makes me feel a little less homesick, seeing the extra blankets and pillows he has near the couch, the snacks he’s set up by the kitchen, and the lamp he’s moved closer to a small painting that matches it perfectly.

But then I notice a few other paintings sitting on the floor by the balcony, the only objects out of place in his room. They’re turned around so that you can’t see what’s on them, making me realize he most likely did it purposely.

When I turn back toward Luca, his eyes snag on mine, anxiety-filled, seeing me notice the paintings. “I like your room,” I offer, trying to keep my focus on the rest of the suite. “It’s nice how you organized everything.”

The tension in his face quickly fades. “Oh. Thanks,” he says, his eyes flickering with surprise. “I think it’s mainly the resort though. You could organize it any way you want, and it would still look nice.”

“Still, you added a nice touch to it,” I say. “It is a stunning resort though. The voyeurs here are so pretty.”

Luca’s jaw almost drops. “Excuse me, but what did you just say?”

“The voyeurs right outside our rooms.” I gesture toward his door, but when he looks even more confused, I explain, “The hallways by the plants.”

He bites down on his smile. “You mean foyers ?”

“That’s what I said. Voyeurs,” I enunciate.

“Okay, then spell what you’re trying to say,” he challenges.

When I type out the word on my phone and show him the screen, Luca’s laughter echoes off the walls and right into my chest.

He bites down on his bottom lip as he types something on my phone. “ That’s how you spell what you were trying to say.”

It reads as “foyers.” “Okay. But they sound so similar though,” I argue, still not seeing the big deal that he seems to be making.

“The definitions couldn’t be further apart,” he explains. “A foyer is a hallway. A voyeur is someone who likes watching other people have sex.”

And now my jaw is practically on the floor. While my face must be as red as a tomato. Especially with how close he’s sitting next to me.

I quickly look up the Google Search definition for it with my now slightly trembling fingers, and to my extreme dismay, he’s right…

The definition is even more descriptive than what he tells me, most likely sparing me the additional embarrassment .

I play the Google audio for both words right after each other, my ears pressed closely to my phone, and I swear each time it sounds more and more similar to each other.

“Sounds the same to me,” I say confidently, sounding delirious at this point.

Luca tilts his head down at me. “Did I really fuck up your sleep that bad?”

My back almost presses against the couch, his words trickling a warmth between my legs at a completely different interpretation.

Pulling myself together, I continue playing the audio, trying to hear what I’m missing. “They literally sound the same, Luca.”

He scoffs. “This was your payback, right? I’ll be having nightmares of that guy’s voice saying, ‘ foyer, voyeur, foyer, voyeur, foyer, voyeur. ’”

“Okay. Okay .” I shrug. “The hallways are pretty nice.”

He chuckles, a sparkle reflecting from his blue eyes. “Just clarifying, so you’re not into voyeurs then?” He bites down on his bottom lip.

I throw a pillow at him as he snorts.

I not-so-secretly like that we’re joking about things that I’ve never talked about before.

He was right. Not being used to things in and of itself has made me panic even more when I realize how fun this just was.

Then a text from Enrique interrupts our conversation:

Enrique: How does hiking at 11 sound tomorrow morning?

Jasmine: It sounds like a plan :)

Enrique: Luca and Sofia are coming too. Is that alright?

Jasmine: Yeah! Of course

Enrique: Sweet. See you the n

Since today didn’t quite work out, I feel a bit bummed that he doesn’t ask to go alone, the mixed signals continuing to leave me lost.

I wonder if Luca moved back to the chair by his bed since he saw me text Enrique. “It looks like Enrique and I are going out tomorrow,” I say as confidently as someone who doesn’t really know what’s going on can.

“But?” He must see the dazed look on my face that’s not matching my words.

“What?” I say. “I’m excited.”

“Okay. My bad then,” he says, turning his attention back to his phone.

But my composure lasts about two seconds at best. “Is it even a date if you and your sister are going to be there?”

The moment I start talking, Luca glances up from his phone again, with a look that confirms that he knew there’s more than I wanted to let on. When his brows crease, I clarify, “At the hike.”

“It could be,” he replies.

“But it’s not likely?” I ask.

“Not everything has to be a date,” he reasons. “You’re still spending time with each other.”

“You know what? You’re right. Maybe he even has plans for just the two of us afterward?”

Seeing Luca’s pursed lips makes me realize I’m veering toward dangerous territories again. Ones where my fantasies project themselves onto, convincing myself that reality can follow suit.

After doing a good job at mostly avoiding the topic for the past two days, I ask, “So what comes next?” I clarify, “Now that we’ve kissed. ”

Luca places his phone on the nightstand, realizing that this is going to be a long conversation. “What do you mean ‘what comes next?’ Whatever you feel comfortable with.”

“How do I know what I’m comfortable with?” I groan more so to myself than to him.

“Just try and test something out. See what you like and don’t like. What other way really is there?” he says with a shrug.

“I’m barely still used to just kissing,” I say. “How am I going to initiate the rest? I don’t even know where to start.”

“You don’t have to go in thinking that it’s your job to seduce him,” Luca says, his lips curving in amusement.

I narrow my eyes at him. “ Funny .”

“No, really,” he says seriously. “There are more subtle things that you can do that will be more than enough for him to know you’re interested.”

“Like?” I ask.

He suggests, “Touching his shoulder when you’re having a good conversation, reaching out to hold his hand, brushing the side of his hair. Things like that.”

He makes it sound so easy. Too easy.

Yet I try to be positive. “I can do that. Maybe I’ll see if he wants to hold my hand on the hike tomorrow.”

“Just see what comes natural to you,” Luca recommends, the warmth in his eyes relaxing me a bit, even from across the room.

“Okay. Thanks.” I exhale, releasing the tension in my shoulders. “I’m sorry if it’s weird that I brought this up again since it’s your friend we’re talking about.”

He leans back into his chair with brows creased. “Yeah. That’s the only odd part for me as well.”

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” I say, feeling self-conscious suddenly. “I won’t bring it up again. ”

Luca quickly shakes his head. “No. It’s fine. I’m not uncomfortable. I don’t want you to feel like you don’t have anyone to talk to about this.”

My period could explain the slight tingle in my eyes after hearing his words. But I think it’s more than that.

It’s the fact that he understands how important freedom of expression is for me, and how things might be different if I could actually talk about the things I want rather than keep shutting them inside.

I look up at him, my lips timidly curving upwards. “That means a lot. Thank you.” When he smiles, I take the chance to return back to our previous, more light-hearted banter. “You know, it’s a shame that I didn’t get to show off my surfing technique today.”

“I think I have a pretty good picture of what that would’ve looked like,” Luca says, raising his brows mockingly.

I look for a pillow to throw at him, but I can’t find any more (to my dismay).

“If I had more energy right now, you’d be toast,” I joke while he obnoxiously shields his face with his arms.

It’s funny. I realize I was too busy laughing all this time to notice the pain that I’m still in. Talking to Luca in this room made everything, including my stressful job search, seem somehow less important.