Chapter One – Homecoming
The summer heat hit me before I even stepped off the bus. It was the kind of heat that smelled like sunscreen and gasoline, thick enough to wrap around your skin until you remembered why you hated this town—and why you secretly missed it, too.
“Aria!”
Sofia’s voice sliced through the crowd. My best friend barreled toward me with her usual hurricane energy, arms wide, blond hair whipping in the wind. She hadn’t changed a bit.
“God, finally,” she said, squeezing me until my ribs protested. “One year away at college and you look… older. Like you’ve seen some things.”
I laughed, though the truth was less glamorous: late-night ramen, cramming for finals, and pretending I didn’t feel completely lost half the time. “I missed you too.”
Her grin widened. “You better. Come on—there’s a party waiting for you.”
Of course there was. Sofia lived for chaos, and dragging me along for it. I let her link arms with me as we hauled my suitcase toward her beat-up car.
It wasn’t until we pulled up in front of her house—familiar brick, sagging porch swing—that my stomach dipped. Because sitting on the hood of a black Chevy truck was him.
Luca Moreno.
Sofia’s older brother. My old summer tormentor. The boy who used to steal my popsicles, splash me into the lake, and smirk every time I threatened to kill him.
Except he wasn’t a boy anymore.
He was twenty-two now, tall enough that even from the driveway he seemed to block out the sun. His t-shirt clung to broad shoulders, his forearms dusted with grease like he’d just finished fixing that truck. Dark hair curled slightly at his temples, his tan skin glowing like summer had claimed him as its favorite.
And those eyes. Warm, brown, steady—the kind of eyes that made you feel seen and cornered all at once.
My heart did something stupid in my chest.
“Don’t look so shocked,” Sofia said, hopping out of the car. “He still lives here. Much as I wish he didn’t.”
“Still annoying, huh?” I asked, forcing casual.
“You have no idea.” She rolled her eyes and called, “Luca! Get off your lazy ass and help with the bags.”
He slid off the truck with lazy grace, his mouth tugging into a smirk as he walked toward us. “Welcome home, Aria.”
The way he said my name—slow, deliberate—sent a shiver down my spine.
It shouldn’t have. Not after all these years. Not when he’d never once looked at me like that before.
But maybe that was the problem.
Because for the first time, I wasn’t sure I wanted him to stop.
