Chapter5– The perfect date neverexists

LUCA HAD ALREADY REACHED THE CAFÉ. HE SAT AT A TABLE NEAR THE WINDOW,

WATCHING THE LITTLE DROPLETS TAP AGAINST THE GLASS, LOST IN THOUGHTS HE

COULDN'T UNTANGLE. HE WASN’T USED TO THIS—DATES, FEELINGS, SOMEONE

CHOOSING TO SPEND TIME WITH HIM.

FIORA WAS A BIT LATE, NOT TOO MUCH THOUGH—JUST ENOUGH TO KEEP LUCA

CHECKING HIS WATCH TWICE AND BRUSHING HIS HAIR BACK NERVOUSLY. SHE CAME

IN, HOLDING A SMALL BOUQUET OF FRESH FLOWERS. DRENCHED A LITTLE FROM

THE RAIN, HER CHEEKS PINK FROM THE COLD, AND A LITTLE SMILE ON HER FACE—

LUCA SWORE HE’D NEVER FORGET THAT SIGHT.

"YOU BOUGHT THESE. . . FOR ME?" LUCA ASKED, CONFUSED AND TOUCHED.

FIORA JUST SMILED, HER EYES DOING THE TALKING.

THEY SAT VERY CLOSE. LIKE, KNEES-TOUCHING-UNDER-THE-TABLE CLOSE. EVEN

THOUGH IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE JUST COFFEE, THEY ORDERED A PIZZA AND

MOJITO. LUCA, WHO HAD NEVER EVEN PRONOUNCED ‘MOJITO’ RIGHT, JUST WENT

WITH IT. HE BARELY TOUCHED THE DRINK THOUGH—HE WAS MORE HIGH ON HER

PRESENCE THAN ANY MINTY DRINK COULD EVER MAKE HIM FEEL.

HE WAS FEELING TOO SHY TO EAT, LIKE SOME KID ON HIS FIRST EVER LUNCH DATE.

SO, FIORA TORE A SLICE, HELD IT TO HIS MOUTH AND SAID, "C’MON, EAT. YOU’RE

MAKING ME AWKWARD NOW."

AND THAT ONE BITE CHANGED HIM MORE THAN YEARS OF LONELINESS EVER

COULD.

SHE STARTED TALKING ABOUT HER FAMILY, HER FRIENDS, HOW SHE MISSED HOME

SOMETIMES. AND LUCA? HE WASN’T EVEN LISTENING TO HER WORDS ANYMORE—HE

WAS LOST IN HOW HER HAIR DANCED WITH THE CAFÉ’S LITTLE FAN BREEZE, HOW

HER EYES LIT UP WHEN SHE LAUGHED, HOW SHE SMELLED LIKE THAT MIX OF

VANILLA AND SOMETHING WARM HE COULDN’T NAME.

WITHOUT THINKING, HE JUST SAID:

"TU SEI LA POESIA CHE IL SILENZIO SUSSURRA,

TRA UNA RISATA RUBATA E UN BATTITO PERSO."

(“YOU ARE THE POEM SILENCE WHISPERS,

BETWEEN A STOLEN LAUGH AND A MISSED HEARTBEAT.”)

SHE BLINKED. “DID YOU… PLAN THAT?”

HE CHUCKLED, BRUSHING HIS FINGERS THROUGH HIS HAIR, “NO. I JUST SAID WHAT

I SAW.”

SHE STARED AT HIM LIKE HE WASN’T JUST SOME GUY—LIKE HE WAS SOMETHING…

MORE.

THEN, IN HER TYPICAL FIORA STYLE, SHE SLID OFF HER RIGHT SHOE UNDER THE

TABLE AND TOSSED IT SOFTLY ONTO LUCA’S CAP. HE LOOKED AT HER, SHOCKED AND

LAUGHING. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“MARKING TERRITORY,” SHE SAID, TEASING. “THIS CAP IS MINE NOW.”

UNDER THE TABLE, HIS HAND SLOWLY FOUND HERS. THEIR FINGERS DIDN’T JUST

HOLD—THEY FIT.

THE TIME FLEW, THEY DIDN’T EVEN REALISE. THE SUBWAY WAS NEARBY AND FIORA’S

TRAIN WAS ALREADY AT THE PLATFORM. SHE KISSED HIM ON THE CHEEK FIRST, BUT

JUST BEFORE RUNNING INSIDE THE TRAIN, SHE PULLED HIM BY THE COLLAR AND

GAVE A QUICK KISS ON HIS LIPS.

“I WISH WE COULD SPEND THIS NIGHT TOGETHER,” SHE SAID BREATHLESSLY.

LUCA BLINKED. “WAIT, CAN’T WE?”

SHE LAUGHED, HALF SAD. “NOT REALLY. MY LANDLORD’S A DRACULA IN DISGUISE.

EVEN IF MY FRIEND ISN’T HOME, SHE’D NEVER LET A GUY IN.”

AND JUST LIKE THAT, SHE WAS GONE INTO THE TRAIN, WAVING AT HIM FROM

BEHIND THE GLASS.

HE KEPT STANDING THERE, HAND RAISED, UNTIL THE TRAIN WAS JUST A SOUND.

LATER THAT NIGHT, FIORA TEXTED: “I REACHED.”

LUCA DIDN’T REPLY.

SHE FIGURED MAYBE HIS PHONE WAS DEAD. OR MAYBE HE WAS JUST TIRED. IT WAS

ALRIGHT.

SHE WENT TO THE KITCHEN AND STARTED PREPPING FOOD. AROUND 1 0PM, SHE WAS

PLATING THE DISH WHEN A KNOCK CAME AT THE DOOR.

SHE FROZE.

HER LANDLORD? AT THIS TIME? NO WAY.

SHE PEEKED THROUGH THE KEYHOLE CAUTIOUSLY.

IT WAS A DELIVERY GIRL. HOLDING… PIZZA?

SHE OPENED THE DOOR, SIGHED IN RELIEF.

BUT WHAT SHE DIDN’T KNOW, WAS THAT. . .

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