Page 34 of Spotlight Hearts

He ran.

But he kissed me back first.

ELEVEN

KAI

I wake up late.

Not by much—twenty minutes—but it’s enough. The alarm didn’t go off. Or I slept through it. Or I turned it off in my sleep because my brain decided last night’s gym moment needed to be processed in total darkness instead of getting up and facing reality.

Reality being: Luca kissed me, and I kissed him back.

Then I ran like a coward.

“Fuck,” I groan and glance over at Min-ho’s bed. It’s empty. He must have woken up earlier and left. He normally goes for early runs so it’s not surprising.

I’m hard as a rock, sheets twisted around my legs, so it’s probably best he’s not here to witness it. Dragging myself out of bed, I grab my travel clothing and close myself into the bathroom. I’m sure Luca will be late anyway, and I’ll still beat him down there even with a quick shower and brushing my teeth.

My boner doesn’t go away as the hot water runs down my body, so I jack off fast and furious, chasing the orgasm. I come with his name on the back of my tongue, biting it down in case Min-ho has returned to the room.

By the time I’m dressed—jeans, hoodie, ball cap, sneakers—I’m ten minutes late. An unread text from Tasha sitting on my phone asking where I am. I shove my stuff into my travel bag and sprint down the hall, punching the elevator button. When it doesn’t come in the next twenty seconds, I decide to take the stairs. A sort of panic at being late is starting to fill me with a dread that’s not unfamiliar, as though I’ll be kicked out of Eclipse for being late.

When I hit the lobby, I’m already at a jog, swerving around people, and bursting through the revolving door into the hot morning sun.

The van’s still there—engine running, back door still open. Michael’s loading the last bag. Min-ho’s already climbed into the middle row. Luca’s leaning against the side door, arms crossed, sunglasses on, ball cap pulled low, looking every bit the bored rock star made to wait.

I slow to a walk, attempting to look casual. It’s a fail.

Luca spots me first; he pushes off the van, lowers his sunglasses just enough to sweep his eyes over me.

“Wow,” he drawls. “The king of punctuality, late. We thought you died.”

I ignore him, then I toss my bag in next to the rest of them, slamming the door shut harder than necessary. Flashes of last night passing through my thoughts.

Michael glances at me, eyebrows up. “Cut it close today.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Overslept.”

Luca snorts. Loudly. “So you are human?”

“I said I overslept. Drop it.”

He doesn’t drop it. He steps closer. “You know, for someone who’s always riding my ass about being late, you sure don’t like it when I point it out when you do it. Hypocrite much?”

“Not in the mood for your shit, Luca. Back off.”

Michael clears his throat. “Guys⁠—”

“My shit?” he scoffs, ignoring Michael.

“Guys—” Michael says again, his voice tight.

“What?” we snap at the same time.

He lifts his eyebrows and tilts his head to a single pap, standing near the flower pots, his camera trained on us. Oh. Oh, fuck. Harry is going to lose his shit when those photos get out.

While I’m spiraling, Luca is moving, flipping his hat backward, and closing the distance between us. His mouth crashes into mine—hard, sudden, and so possessive it curls my toes. It’s over in two heartbeats: lips firm against mine, a quick swipe of tongue that tastes like coffee and syrup. Then he’s gone, pulling back just far enough to lean into my ear.