LILLY POV
The campus was buzzing with talk of the upcoming Winter Showcase, a mid-semester tradition at Ravenholt where art students, musicians, and performers got the spotlight. Posters were plastered across every hallway, announcing open slots and volunteer signups. It was never something I paid attention to.
Until Luca brought it up.
We were sitting under our usual tree near the west quad, passing a half-eaten bag of sour candy between us. His head was leaned back, eyes shut against the gentle sun.
"You ever thought about reading something at the showcase?" he asked.
I blinked. "Like… out loud?"
"You write, right? You've got that black notebook you keep hidden in your bag like it's a state secret."
My fingers curled protectively around my tote.
"I don't share those."
He opened one eye. "Not even with me?"
"Especially not with you," I said, tossing a candy at his face. He caught it midair with his mouth and grinned.
"I'll read something if you do," he offered.
"You don't write."
He shrugged. "I'll make something up. A poem about cafeteria pasta if I have to."
I snorted, but something fluttered in my chest. That he wanted to do something with me—even something ridiculous—meant more than I could say.
Still, I shook my head. "Too many eyes. I'd choke."
Luca fell quiet.
When I looked over, his gaze was distant, but not cold. Just thoughtful.
"I used to think that," he murmured. "That everyone was watching. That if I messed up, they'd laugh."
I waited.
"But sometimes," he continued, "you have to let them. Then it doesn't matter so much anymore."
I didn't respond.
But later that night, I opened my notebook and read one of my poems aloud. To the mirror.
It wasn't terrible.
---
LUCA POV
I was losing my mind.
Not in a bad way. Just in a I think I'm completely in love with my best friend way.
She didn't see it. Or maybe she did, and was too afraid to name it. Either way, I kept showing up. Letting the closeness grow like ivy around a wall I wasn't ready to climb.
Julian noticed.
"You're in deep," he said one morning over breakfast.
I pretended not to hear.
"I mean, it's kind of poetic. You, the rich mess, and her, the grounded dreamer."
I groaned. "Save it for your screenplay."
"You haven't touched anyone else in months. Not even a casual flirt."
"She's not a rebound."
"I didn't say she was."
But his eyes said the rest: You're not going to be able to keep this up forever.
He was right.
---
LILLY POV
A few days later, Enzo asked if I wanted to walk with him to the bookstore.
I said yes.
It was easy with him. No tension. No confusion.
"I heard about the Showcase," he said as we browsed old anthologies. "You thinking of signing up?"
"Maybe."
"You should." He picked up a copy of Maya Angelou's poems. "You've got the kind of voice people listen to. Even when you're quiet."
That struck something in me. He always said things like that.
"You're sweet," I said honestly.
He smiled. "I mean it."
And I believed him.
But as we walked back, I found myself checking my phone. No new message.
Luca hadn't texted.
For the first time in weeks, he hadn't waited for me after work. No random jokes. No questions about my day. It felt… off.
I told myself it was fine.
He didn't owe me anything.
Still, my chest felt heavier.
---
LUCA POV
I was pulling back.
Just a little. Just enough to see if she noticed.
Because I needed to know—was I just a habit, or something more?
But when I saw her laughing with Enzo outside the library, my heart twisted anyway.
"Idiot," I muttered to myself.
I walked the long way around campus that night. Ended up at the football bleachers, staring out at nothing. The moon was barely visible, tucked behind clouds.
That's how it felt with her sometimes.
Close, but hidden.
And I didn't know how much longer I could wait in the dark.