Three weeks passed.
Naomi tried to pretend things were the same. She buried herself in work, filed her reports, drank her overpriced coffee like a ritual—but something had shifted. Every moment with Luca crackled like live wire. Every stolen glance, every accidental touch—they didn't combust, but they smoldered.
They both kept their distance in the office. Barely.
But outside?
That was different.
They met in quiet places. Not dates, never anything that obvious. But they spent time. Coffee after dark. Walks along the river where no one would notice them. The silence between them thickened with unspoken wants.
They talked. Really talked.
About her mother's absence. His father's impossible expectations. The loneliness in ambition. The ache of wanting more but being afraid to reach for it.
Each time she thought she might pull back, he made her feel seen. Safe.
And wanted.
It wasn't lust anymore. It was gravity.
That night, they were at Luca's loft. Naomi hadn't meant to end up there. But after he'd walked her home and they lingered outside her door too long, she followed him back instead.
Now, the city burned beyond the tall windows. He poured her a drink, something dark and warm. She sat on his sofa, legs tucked under her, watching him like she was memorizing him.
"You don't let many people in here, do you?" she asked.
Luca shook his head. "Just you."
He stood a few feet away, like he was waiting for her to give permission before moving closer.
"I keep thinking this is a mistake," she said, "but it doesn't feel like one."
Luca crossed the room slowly. Sat beside her—but not touching. Just… near.
"It's not a mistake," he said, voice low. "We've both been pretending we're okay living at arm's length. But I want more."
She turned to him. "What do you want, Luca?"
His eyes burned into hers. "You. Not just your body. All of you. Your fire, your fear, your rules. But I'm not going to take it from you. You'll give it when you're ready."
The words hit harder than any touch.
She leaned in, breath catching.
Their kiss this time didn't start slow—it started desperate.
But again, they pulled back before it went too far.
They wanted.
They ached.
But the line hadn't fully snapped yet.
Instead, they lay on the sofa, tangled. Breathing. Hearts thudding. A slow burn turning hotter.
This was the gravity between them.
And it was only pulling them closer.