Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Luca: You didn’t hesitate. You’re acting as if I were the problem here.
Nova: Okay. That is valid. I hear you and deserve this. But I’m asking—begging—for another shot. A redo. A do-again but BETTER, less-traumatic, more-kissing version of last night.
Luca: You’re joking but I’m still mad.
Nova: I’m not joking. I’m groveling and happen to grovel very well. I’ll send an apology cookie cake. Maybe with your face on it??
Luca: Don’t tempt me. I’m emotionally unstable and easily won over by dessert.
Nova: I KNOW. That’s why I’m going to exploit it shamelessly.
Nova: Luca—I can’t fix this if you don’t tell me how. It’s been three days and I miss you. I miss the way you look at me when I say something dumb, but act like it’s brilliant. I miss your handsome face and cute laugh and…
Nova: Please stop icing me out. PLEASE. I get it. I hurt you. But this isn’t a fling to me, I promise…
Nova: Can we talk about this in person?
Luca: I don’t know.
Nova: I’ll let you yell at me.
Luca: When have you ever seen me raise my voice?
Nova: Never? But there’s a first time for everything and you might feel good doing it.
Luca: Nope. I won’t.
Nova: If it makes you feel better, I’m mad at me too…
Luca: Just give me a minute—this isn’t something I can brush off in a text. I also don’t not want to see you but right now this feels too chaotic for me.
Nova: You thrive in chaos. You play a sport where people throw punches and lose teeth and still say “good game.”
Luca: Well, even hockey has penalties. And right now, you’re in the box.
30
luca
“Ithought Gio Montagalo was dating Giselle Aguillard?”
I murmur, elbowing to my friend Karl—I’m here tonight as his plus one cause the idiot has no interest in dating—as we make our way into the banquet room. “Who’s the woman with Gio Montagalo?”
Karl follows my gaze, squinting across the crowd. “What—the blonde?”
Yes the blonde, dipshit!
I can’t take my eyes off her.
Red dress. Red lips. Pouty mouth. Perfect posture.
Looks bored as fuck.
She’s beautiful. Seriously so fucking gorgeous.
“Isn’t he dating Giselle?” I ask, frowning. Do that annoying thing where I tap my friend on the shoulder when he ignores me so he’ll answer my question. “That TikTok influencer or whatever?”
My heart stutters as I glance at her again, willing myself to stop staring like some freak.
One full beat.
Then another.
I am…
She’s so…
I shift my stance, tugging at the collar of my shirt, suddenly aware of how suffocating it feels. The room is cool, but my skin is on fire. My pulse thrums against my throat like it’s trying to get out.
I suck in a breath. Shaky. Shallow. Like I’ve just resurfaced after being underwater too long.
Holy shit.
She’s not just pretty.
She’s spellbinding.
Karl huffs out a laugh. “He was dating her. Past tense. Giselle dumped him right before tonight. Didn’t you hear?”
No. Why would I have heard? I have no idea what the inside gossip is—but someday, I would love to be in the know.
“So, who is she?”
I follow my friend, weaving through the crowd to find our table. “That’s his sister.”
My heart speeds up again, this time from something else: hope. “That’s his sister?”
“Yeah.” Karl nods his head offhandedly. “But when it comes to Nova, Gio is a massive prick.” He shrugs. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
My heart sinks.
Nova.
I repeat the name quietly on my tongue testing to see if it burns. It doesn’t.
It tastes sweet.
Karl finds our seats at a table two rows back from the main stage, and I take the chair that gives me a clear line of sight to her. Not that I’m trying to be obvious or anything. I sit, subtly angling my body, pretending to listen to the small talk around me while my eyes keep drifting back across the room.
She’s radiant. Effortlessly so.
Nova looks everywhere but directly at the crowd, her focus flicking between her wine glass and her brother, who keeps leaning in to speak to the people at his table.
Agents.
A football Hall of Famer.
I look over again at the same moment her eyes flick across the room—quickly. Indifferently. They land on me.
We lock eyes a second too long.
She looks away.
Then looks back.
My stomach tightens. She saw me. Definitely saw me.
I lean back in my seat, trying to act cool, running a hand through my hair.
Karl nudges me. "Did you hear a single word I said? Gio guards her like Fort Knox."
Yeah, yeah, yeah—I got the memo.
But I’m not thinking about Gio right now.
I’m thinking about her. Nova. With her long legs crossed, her red dress painted on like sin, her fingers tapping the stem of her glass. Every few minutes, she glances again—quick, secretive peeks like she doesn’t want to get caught.
The evening drags in that weird award show way—scripted banter, polite claps, overly dramatic music stings. Karl is deep in conversation with everyone but me, which is good because I’m not contributing anything.