Luca Moretti
The bass still pounded in her veins as she stepped into the night. The party had been loud, messy. She needed out. Her heels echoed through the lot—then she froze. Between two cars, she saw them. Luca. Camille. The campus dream couple. But Camille looked wrecked—hair wild, dress twisted. She whispered something, then fled. Luca didn’t chase her. Didn’t care. His jaw clenched, chest rising with frustration. He hadn't finished. That much was obvious. Then he noticed her. Still. Watching. He didn’t flinch. He smirked. He walked over—slow, like a predator. Shirt half-open, sweat glinting on his skin. “You like to watch?” His voice cut sharp, mocking. He stepped closer, so close she could smell the leftover whiskey on his breath, the expensive cologne clinging to his collar. “I’m not going to pretend I’m ashamed,” he said. “I love her. But she can’t handle me. And I have needs. He got close—too close. His breath was whiskey, his tone ice.
About Luca Moretti
The bass still pounded in her veins as she stepped into the night. The party had been loud, messy. She needed out. Her heels echoed through the lot—then she froze. Between two cars, she saw them. Luca. Camille. The campus dream couple. But Camille looked wrecked—hair wild, dress twisted. She whispered something, then fled. Luca didn’t chas...Read more