~Luca~

I know at some point within my next two years at CNU, I am going to regret this choice. A choice, that really wasn’t. 

Beckham fucking Hayes has a way of getting under my skin and forcing the worst out of me. I haven’t seen anyone half as persistent as him in wanting to get to know me or be some sort of acquaintances. Not to say that people haven’t tried - in fact, I happen to be the sort of challenge people like, the kind that they hope will make them feel better about their self-proclaimed selfless tendencies – but I am saying that people give up. And I never have a problem with it, only asking them to quit and save their energy before they even get started. I don’t want any part in others blaming for leading them on or being a shitty friend. 

Beckham’s two-story off-campus house is about fifteen minutes away from the college in a residential area of Meadslore. It’s a part of the suburb I haven’t quite explored yet, but really my whole level of exploring in the town has been restricted to the rink, college and the dorm, so I can’t really speak. This area is quiet, perfect for a family of four with a dog and a yard – the perfect family that we see in all chick flicks. Beckham’s house has a small driveway that is packed with three different cars, leaving me with no option but to park my Vespa on the street, two days after I agreed to be his partner. Apparently, that’s better than parking it in the garage they have left their cars in front of. I get off, walking the small walkway that leads me to the front door of the house that has just a speck of Victorian inspiration in its architecture but otherwise is your basic American townhouse. To my right, there is a small porch that is sparsely decorated with a couple of chairs and a table that looks like it hasn’t been used in all the years the boys have inhabited the space. I ring the bell, feeling completely out of the element.

To be real, I did briefly consider asking Beckham to be my partner for the assignment, that short moment our eyes had met in the classroom; before Brittainy interrupted us. And just like that, I saw it for the horrible idea that it was. He had been absolutely right in the fact that I didn’t know anybody in that room. But that, by no means meant that I had to partner up with him. In fact, I am confident that I can convince Greene in letting me do this on my own, except I don’t want to. Group work means less load on me and that means more time to do other stuff, meaning hockey and probably leave me with a little bit of schedule space to do my other assignments. That’s not to say that I enjoy being at Beckham’s place, waiting for him to let me in. When I hear the locks unlatch from the inside, I prepare myself to be invaded with that spicy, woody fragrance that he leaves behind and the intensity of his bright blue-green eyes that shifts colours depending on where he is standing. Instead, I am met with cocky jade eyes that twinkle with nothing but what screams trouble and a bare, extremely fit upper body!

“LJ!” He shoots me a pearly white grin that would make the panties melt off of any girl. If he were my type, I am sure we wouldn’t make it past the hallway. Too bad, I don’t do boys with too big a mouth or ego. Sebastian Torres is both. “Like what you see?” He shoots a quick look at his own body and pats his firm abdomen.

Rolling my eyes, I say, “I’ve seen better.”  I shove at his shoulder in an attempt to move him but he’s solid. “And it’s Luca, Sebastian!”

He doesn’t take offence to my statement or attitude like most people will. He never does and I am not sure if that makes me comfortable or annoyed. “Becky boy said you’d be here!” 

He moves his body to let me through and I take my first look at the bachelor pad that houses three of the most popular jocks of CNU. The front door opens into a small foyer slash hallway that then leads up to a staircase. To the left, there is a doorway to the living room that then opens into a kitchen to its left. It’s clean and I don’t know why that surprises the hell out of me. Jay is perched on one of those lush couches, his hand lifting in a wave. “Hey, Luca!” I jerk my head in one of those popular head tilts that guys do. That’s what happens when you are constantly surrounded by brothers and their friends.

“Where’s Beckham,” I quiz quickly, not wanting to look like an overeager intruder, even when my gaze scans my surroundings. It doesn’t faze Seb one bit like he’s used to having random girls in his house just looking around. One a second thought, I suppose he does.

“Upstairs. Wait let me holler!” he offers and then booms, “B, your girl is here! Beck-” 

“I am no one’s girl,” I grit. “Is that what Beckham’s been telling you?” A cheeky grin is thrown my way and then he shrugs. “It depends on the context, I suppose. What am I hearing about you two partnering up for a class? The last I heard you weren’t throwing a party for being in the same class as B.”

“There wasn’t much of a choice, Seb.”

“For whom? Beckham or you?”

“Seb, leave her alone, dude,” Jay calls out from his position in the living room, but his friend only continues to look at me expectantly, still waiting for my answer. I stare, willing him to back down, but he doesn’t. Not that I expected anything less from him.

It’s my turn to jerk my shoulders. “It depends on the context, I suppose.” He shoots me another one of his sexy simpers at my rebuttal, seemingly pleased and says, “Becky boy isn’t responding. Probably has his earphones on or something. Why don’t you hit his room directly? The second floor, last door to the right.”

I hesitate. Can I do that? Are we going to be working in his room? “I-”

“You’ll not be the first girl to walk into his room, LJ.” 

I roll my eyes to heaven and back. I seem to be doing a lot of that when I am with Seb.“Oh, I’m sure of that. You needn’t say more!”

“See.” He opens his arms and drops them. “It can’t be that bad. If he’s naked – which is completely possible- he’s naked. Not the worst thing you’d see and it won’t be the first time either, right?” Oh, definitely not. But this boy doesn’t have to know that. 

“That’s not on today’s to-do list!” I inform him, already beginning my trek towards the staircase. Torres doesn’t follow, choosing to yell from the base of it. “Never say never, LJ!”

The long winding stairs lead me to a well-lit hallway, the walls being the same subtle grey the rest of the first floor had been. Following Sebastian’s instructions, I reach the last door on my right, knocking on it like I’ve been taught to do. My eyes take an impromptu scan of the second floor, the walls bare of knick-knacks except for a few paintings I know the boys had no hand in buying, probably left behind by the landlord before the lease. A minute or two later, I knock again, only to be ignored. “Beckham?” I call. We had planned for this meeting to take place a little after seven-thirty in the evening to accommodate our own schedules and I suddenly begin to wonder if Beckham forgot. “Beckham?”

When I get no answer, I think fuck this, before pushing the door open which to my disbelief is unlocked. I don’t know what I was expecting when I pushed the large wenge door open, but certainly not the sight that is in front of me. Beckham’s laying on his stomach, sprawled across the expanse of an expensive-looking king size cot that reminds me of my own back home. The walls of his bedroom are charcoal, the sheets and curtains – a shade of jet black making the room look almost ominous. The dark furniture compliments the vibe of the whole space and so does a topless Beckham. Feeling weird, I step inside slowly, almost as if my footsteps are enough to wake him up. Here’s the thing, I probably should wake him up. We have work to do and not a lot of time left. His season starts in about four days and mine in about a week, meaning it’s best if we get this done before then. Except, I don’t want to wake him up. 

Beckham looks peaceful, soft snores escaping his slightly parted lips. He looks almost tolerable, which is saying something because he’s done nothing but gets on my nerves since we slept together all those weeks ago. My senses are consumed by the scent of fresh linen, citrus and a hint of cinnamon along with that signature Beckham smell that nearly makes me dizzy. A few light footsteps later, I plop down on the edge of the mattress next to his head, my hands itching to run it through his wet, dark hair. It’s an urge I don’t quite understand and that’s just about enough for me to think better of it. 

While Beckham had looked tranquil from a distance, that couldn’t be farthest from the truth as I observe him. It feels creepy to be studying a man who is deep in his dreams, but it’s almost fascinating. Shaking myself off, I reach to wake him up when he flinches. Jerking back, I watch as Beckham’s otherwise lovely face contorts into that of torture, as if the images he is seeing in his head is too much for him to bear. The grimace of anguish mars his chiselled feature and soon enough he begins to writhe like the ache is too much for him even physically.

“No,” a whisper rumbles through the otherwise quiet room, accompanied by the slithering of tears down his face. “No, please.” His hands fist the covers he is laying on top of, a sob wracking through his lithe frame. I feel voyeuristic, witnessing Beckham’s breakdown that I finally inch closer, shaking him awake.

“Beckham, wake up!” Digging my fingers into his shoulder, I jostle him as much as I could, my hands turning clammy from how much he is sweating. “Beckham!” Whatever it is that has its gnarly grasp on him refuses to let him go, as another whimper tears through his lips.

“Beckham,” I try again with no much success, as more tears roll down his cheeks, wetting the sheets. “BECKHAM!” I shout, shoving him with as much strength as I can muster and finally, that does the trick. He jerks awake- his eyes unfocused, his expression lost. If I was a hugger, I would have given him the tightest hug that possible, but because I am not, I sit there, staring at him. His breathing is all staccato, his panicked expression slowly morphing into that of embarrassment.

“Luca?”

“Hey,” I breathe, my own inhale shaky. “You doing okay?”

~Beckham~

Nightmares are nothing new to me. I have learnt to live my own mind torturing me every time I try to get a shut-eye, especially before the season when my cortisol levels and adrenaline are on an all-time high. It drains me, leaves me tormented in a way that no therapy could help. It is what it is and fighting it only tires me more. So, I have learnt to coexist with it – alone, having no one to witness the unconscious breakdown first hand. And now, she’s here, her face blank as always and for some reason, humiliation washes over me. Even though I am aware that this is beyond my control, there is a kind of shame associated with the way I have been dealing with it all. It only worsens the feeling, knowing that Luca had seen it.

“Luca?” The word comes out breathy and she bristles, almost as if she doesn’t know what to do with whatever it is she’s feeling.

“Hey,” Her voice is soft and soothing, the rasp in it almost lulling me back to sleep. “You doing okay?” I want to tell her that I am okay, but that’d be a lie and she knows it. So, I choose to simply gaze at her which in turn makes her uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry I walked in. I- Seb and I called for you and – I knocked the door-” she hooks her thumb in direction of the door, “I thought I’d check on you when you didn’t respond.” I nod, not quite trusting myself to not sound anywhere closer to what I’m feeling. Luca jumps up from her perch on the mattress and says, “Maybe I should go. You know, you clearly need rest.”

“Training’s been gruelling, LJ!” I chuckle, hoping to break the tension that’s building in the room, enough to suffocate me. “We should get some work done. Training’s only gonna get intense. We won’t find the time.”

“I-” She hesitates. And, I hate that she does. “You sure?”

“It was a fucking nightmare, LJ. It won’t break me,” I snap, getting off the bed and walking over to my study table. I make a grab for the reference material I had printed out earlier in the day to make it easier for us before dumping the bundle on my bed. I say, “If you’re done pitying me, can we get some work done?” 

She walks over, clutching her bag tightly before plopping down on the bouncy Italian mattress. Soon, we get into analysing the material, arguing healthily on our choice of theories that we think will suit the sample product information given to us. Marketing really isn’t either of our best talents, we aren’t marketing geniuses by any means, but we slowly begin to gather all the information we might need to make the assignment as good and engaging as possible. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, Luca and I are a good team. We agree to disagree here and there but for the most part, we get along just as well as we did in bed. About two hours and a pack of Doritos later, Jay walks in with a tray.

“Hey, kids. Playing nice, are you?” he teases, leaving the tray at the foot of my bed. “Eat up and work hard, y’all.”

Luca smiles one of her rare smiles at him and I almost frown at it. “Hey, you didn’t have to.” She crawls on her fours and looks at what smells like Jay’s famous Mac n’ Cheese and two cans of beer. Man’s pulling all his best talents out, huh! “I was going to leave. We’re done with a lot of stuff today. I can eat on my way back!”

“We make huge portions of food, what not with three of us gluttons living here. We can spare a portion for you, Luca!” he says gently, pushing the tray further into the bed. I jump in and add, “Jay’s M n’C is to die for. You should eat before you go.” 

She looks over her shoulder, uncertainly but nods. “Yeah, okay!” She turns to look up and Jay and beams. “Thank you, Jay.” My best friend throws us a salute and pads out of my room, shutting it behind him. Dragging the tray to the centre of the bed, she sits down next to me, closer than we were previously before handing me a spoon and grabbing one for herself. “It better be extraordinary, Hayes. I’m not putting up with anything less,” she says, before digging into the bowl of pasta. One mouthful and Luca lets out a long, satisfied moan.

“Fuck, Beckham. You might be onto something with this,” she says, her voice delighted. 

Stuffing my mouth with a bite of my own, I gloat, “I told you.” We take turns in scooping our mouths when I offer to open the can of beer that Jay thoughtfully set down for us. I might just need that after all that academic talk. The pink-haired woman only shakes her head. “Can’t. I drove my Vespa over here. Also, I have practice tomorrow.”

“Vespa, huh?” I tease. I can totally see her driving a pastel colour scooter around town. It’s somehow so Luca. 

“Yeah. It was a sixteenth birthday gift,” she offers and it almost astonishes me. Luca giving up information about herself voluntarily seems like a violation of her no-friends policy. I don’t point that out, enjoying this laidback version of her. Soon enough the bowl’s empty and Luca lets her head fall against the headboard. “Gawd, I don’t think I have had that much food in a while. I might have to roll out of your house instead of walking.” I smile. 

“How are you liking CNU? Is it any better than Yale?” With a bewildered expression, Luca asks, “How did you know?”

“You’re friends with Ellie and Jamie. You really think half of CNU don’t know where you’re from yet?”

“Wow. I- umm, it’s too soon to form an opinion.” She frowns, “I think,” like she is not certain yet. Maybe it’s soon, but if you ask me, I’d say that it’s not too hard to love Carnegie Noir.

“You think? CNU is one of the best there is, woman. Reputation, girls, hockey, girls,” I tease and am rewarded with the slight tilt of her lips in the upward direction. 

“Such a starboy,” she dishes right back and oddly, I like the sound of it. She stifles a wide smile and I grin at her, barely containing the stretch of my lips. I don’t think anybody can be as controlled as her, anyway. There is a minute of silence, the comfortable kind where we just relax in our own headspace. Again, surprising me, Luca is the one to break it. 

“Do you get them often?” 

I open my eyes, rolling my head to look at her still with her eyes closed, a small simper playing across her face. It’s almost cherubic. “What? Mac n Cheese? Sure, it’s one of Jay’s many better dishes.” 

Her eyes snap open and she lolls her head to meet my eyes. “You know what I’m talking about, Beckham.” I might, but that doesn’t mean I want to answer her. 

“I don’t read minds, LJ,” I tell her, instead.

She shifts on my bed so that she’s completely facing me now and that unnerves me. Her undivided attention, one that I would have preened under in other circumstances. “The nightmares. Do you have them often?”

I shrug, angling my body to see her better. “It’s frequent when I am under stress and there is no better time for a cortisol overdose than the season, is there?” She nods. She gets it.

“How long?” she asks and I am taken aback by her insistence on the topic. I warily eye her, but she jerks her shoulders and says, “I am merely curious. I have nightmares of my own, Beckham. I think everyone does.” She’s not looking me in the eye anymore and I wonder what she’s hiding in those whiskey on ice eyes of hers

“Why?”

She pouts and it’s fucking adorable. “Why what?” She’s picking on a piece of lint on her leggings.

“Why do you say that?” I elucidate.

She shrugs again like she often does. Then, she lifts her head, her thick lashes fluttering as she pins me with her gaze and lets the words slip, “Because life is always more than what we can deal with and less than what we can wish for.” 

There is a sizzle before the air around us thickens. The familiarity of the feeling from all those days ago breaths down my neck as we lock eyes, letting the bubble around us wrap us up in its warmth. It’s almost impossible not to lean down and allow her warm exhales to hit me in the face. With our lips only a sliver apart, I wait for her to make the move given that she’s the one with the no-repeats rule. One that I think is shit, by the way, because why would anyone not want to go back to a good pussy or dick? While I linger, it almost feels like a herculean task to not take matters into my own hands and press my eager lips to her full, glossy ones.

Then, Luca comes through by arching her neck up and pressing her lips to mine.