Chapter 7: Lines We Don't Cross
The weekly fabric market in Montmartre was bustling with color, scent, and sound. Professor Duval had insisted all pairs go in person to shop for materials.
Luca and Ayden walked side by side, though it felt like walking with a sparkler ready to burn your skin.
Ayden stopped at a stall, fingers brushing over violet silk.
Luca leaned in. "You'd look good in that."
Ayden's hand paused.
"It's not for me."
"Still," Luca said, "I can imagine it. High slit, open back… Maybe with nothing underneath."
Ayden turned sharply. "Are you flirting or mocking me?"
Luca tilted his head, studying him.
"Does it have to be one or the other?"
They stood there, tension pulling between them like static before a lightning strike.
Ayden walked away without answering — but his pulse was racing.
Later that day, back in the studio, Luca returned from a coffee run with a grin.
"Got you your usual," he said, holding it out.
Ayden took the cup without looking at him. "You don't have to."
"I want to," Luca said. "Let me."
That night, Ayden didn't sleep.
He kept remembering the way Luca looked at him—not with lust.
With patience.
And that scared him more.
Chapter 8: The Camille Complication
Camille was watching.
They always watched.
As Ayden pretended not to look at Luca across the library table, Camille leaned closer. "You're losing it."
"I'm focused."
"You're blushing."
Ayden's eyes shot up. "I don't blush."
Camille grinned. "Ayden. You're falling for the himbo. And frankly? I approve."
Ayden glared.
"You know," Camille added, standing, "if you keep bottling it all up, it'll explode. I'd rather it explode on Luca than at him."
Ayden choked. "Camille—!"
But Camille was already gone, texting Theo with evil glee.
Meanwhile, Luca was at the gym, punching out tension on a sandbag.
He didn't know why Ayden got under his skin like this. Why every glance, every breathless moment made him feel alive.
"You're an idiot," he muttered to himself. "You're catching feelings for someone who thinks emotions are a disease."
And yet… he couldn't stop.
Chapter 9: Friction
A week later, a fitting session turned into a standoff.
Ayden was adjusting the waistband of a sample on the mannequin. Luca stood too close behind him.
"Need help?" he asked softly.
"No," Ayden said. But his hands were trembling.
Luca reached around anyway, his hands brushing over Ayden's as he secured the pin.
Ayden inhaled sharply.
Their faces were inches apart.
"I can hear your heart," Luca whispered.
"Then stop listening," Ayden whispered back.
But neither moved.
Then someone opened the door — Camille.
The two of them jerked apart like guilty teens.
Camille raised an eyebrow, smirked, and shut the door again without saying a word.
Luca turned to Ayden. "You hate me right now, don't you?"
Ayden swallowed. "Worse."
"Worse?"
"I want you. And I don't hate you."