LUCA POVđź’¦
The late‑night lights of Eastwood Café hummed above us as Ethan, Julian, Alex, and I gathered around our usual corner table. Textbooks and laptops lay abandoned for once, replaced by steaming mugs of coffee and the satisfying crackle of celebration. I'd called them here—my own private victory lap—but even I wasn't sure what to expect.
"Seriously," Ethan said, leaning back and stretching his arms, "there's a first time for everything. You actually looked… invested today. Like you had skin in the game."
I smirked, turning my cup in slow circles. "That's because I did."
Julian rolled his eyes. "You gave a speech that would make our debate coach weep with envy. 'She deserves better.' You practically sanctified her."
I shrugged. "It's true."
Alex snorted and tapped his fingers on the table. "Come on, man. You weren't always like this. You were Mr. Untouchable. Now you're quoting her like a scripture."
I leaned forward. "What's your point?"
"Point?" Alex said, eyebrows raised. "Point is, we've known you since middle school. You chased every girl in a ten‑mile radius. Clubs, frat parties, study groups—you name it. And now? You can't stop talking about… 'Lilly.'"
He pronounced her name slowly, like it was foreign in his mouth.
Julian gave Alex a look. "Ease up, man."
But Ethan grinned. "No, let him have it. Luca—are you seriously telling us you're not in love with her?"
The table went quiet.
I felt my heart hitch—sudden heat burning my cheeks. I told myself they were joking, but the way they all leaned forward, eyes bright, told me otherwise.
"Love?" I said, voice a bit too loud.
Alex raised his mug in mock salute. "Classic defense mechanism: denial."
Julian shook his head, but even he had a smile tugging at his lips. "So tell us—when did it happen? When did the rich, jaded heir fall for the cleaning‑girl‑turned‑grant‑scholar? First sight? The hearing?"
Ethan took a dramatic sip of his coffee. "Was it when she stared down that board room like she owned the place? Or when she refused to let you protect her?"
I swallowed hard. My gaze dropped to the table. Steam curled off my cup, rising like a challenge.
I hated how easily I could feel their teasing cut through me. I hated how the mention of her name made my chest tighten in a way no party or empty conquest ever had.
But Ethan grinned. "No, let him have it. Luca—are you seriously telling us you're not in love with her?"
Julian cleared his throat. "Look, we're just trying to understand. You've never cared this much about anyone. Not even when you screwed up Pythagoras in math freshman year."
I set my mug down with finality. "I care because it's her. That's all there is to it."
Alex frowned. "That's practically confession language, dude."
I leaned back against the leather seat. "It's not a confession. I care because she mattered.
Ethan exchanged a glance with Julian. "So you're saying… you're not in love with her?"
My pulse ticked in my throat. "No. Of course not." The words came faster than I intended. "That's ridiculous."
---
They wouldn't let it go.
"So it's not love," Alex pressed. "It's… what, then? Hero complex?"
I stiffened. "Don't reduce it. It's respect. Admiration. Concern."
Julian sighed. "You're twisting yourself in knots trying to avoid three little words."
I swallowed. "I saw… gratitude. Relief. Maybe something else, but not love."
---
Ethan shook his head, sliding off the booth. "Alright, enough. You're a good friend. If you ever decide to actually tell her how you feel—"
"I won't," I interrupted, standing. "I'm not ready for that conversation."
They exchanged looks as I threw a few bills on the table. "I've got class at eight. Tomorrow's another day."