Page 103 of All's Well that Friends Well
Because I’m completely dumbfounded, I let him guide me as he pleases, the gentle pressure of his hands leading me to stand right in front of the small mirror hanging in the corner of the room.
“Look yourself in the eye,” he says from behind me. Hisvoice is still low, and from this angle in our reflections, it looks like he could be kissing my neck, or maybe whispering sweet nothings in my ear.
He is whispering in my ear, but his words aren’t sweet, and they aren’t nothings.
“Look yourself in the eye,” he repeats, more firmly now, the heat of his breath tickling my ear.
I swallow past my heart in my throat and look myself in the eye, my reflection rosy-cheeked.
“Good,” he hums, andohmygoodnessI can feel the buzz of his lips against my skin?—
But my attention is diverted when one hand leaves my upper arm and reaches for my hair, pulling it back from over my shoulders and letting it fall down my back instead. Then he speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper this time.
“Now repeat after me:I deserve good things.”
I stare at our reflections, silent, utterly shocked.
“Say it,” he says. “I deserve good things.”
“I—” I break off, swallowing. “I deserve good things.” The words are small, tremulous, but I get them out.
Luca hums once again, his breath trailing from my ear to my neck, and when he speaks again, the brush of his lips over my pulse sends shivers down my spine.
“Now say this one:I have a multitude of things to offer.” He pauses, and when I don’t speak, he says, “Say it. Come on.”
I take a deep breath, the air shuddering in my lungs and then out. “I have a multitude of things to offer?—”
“And my beauty is the least interesting thing about me,” he cuts in. These words he places at the curve of my neck, a faint murmur of lips I feel as much as I hear.
I try to swallow the knot in my throat, but it won’t leave.Everything below my shoulders has gone numb, every bit of sensation focused on the places he’s touching me, the tangle of emotions he’s pulling forward.
“Don’t look,” I whisper as my eyes sting.
He raises one brow at me in the mirror, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
“I’m about to cry, and you hate that.”
“I can handle it,” he breathes into my ear. “You didn’t repeat the last one.My beauty is the least interesting thing about me.”
I’m biting the inside of my cheek now, my eyes still shut tight as I try not to let the tears fall—but how am I supposed to keep it together when Luca is saying these things?
“Come on, sweetheart,” he says. “Say it. We’re going to stand here until you do.”
“Could we stand here anyway?” I find myself saying, the words whispered and broken. But I’ve never felt in my life the way I feel right now, at this very moment; I’ve never experienced this overwhelming surge of so many emotions all rolled into one. My tears are sad but somehow joyful, my heart broken but only because it’s being mended, and this man—thisman?—
“Jules,” Luca says in that rough voice. My lids fly open to find his gaze in our reflection, just as he speaks again. “Say it.”
I don’t let go of his eyes. I’m not sure I can. “My beauty—” I begin, but I break off. It feels absurd to be saying these words, and yet it’s so difficult too. So I take a deep breath as several tears trickled down my cheeks and then try again. “My beauty is the least interesting thing about me.”
The words fall into the silence and grow where I’ve planted them—they swell and rise until I can feel them onmy skin like the shivers from Luca’s breath on my neck. They sink in and settle somewhere past muscle, past bone—they run with the blood in my veins, pulsing with every beat of my still-racing heart.
They burrow deep into my soul—where, I know, they’re waiting for the chance to blossom.
“Did you know,” Luca murmurs, his lips brushing my neck, “that you always smell like strawberry shortcake?”
I blink, surprised. “It’s my body wash and shampoo and lotion. They’re strawberry donut scented.”
“Was that on the list?” he says, inhaling deeply. “Smelling good?” Slowly, he raises his head and takes one careful step backward. It’s only then that I realize exactly how close he was standing, his heat at my back that’s now replaced with cold absence.
