It took every ounce of discipline I had learned throughout my life to get out of bed the next morning.

My eyelids fluttered open, the familiar beige walls coming into focus slowly as my brain seemingly took its time to remind me where I was. I became aware of Luca's arm draped loosely around me, could feel his chest rising and falling softly against my back. I turned, careful not to wake him up, my heart leaping to my throat when I saw him. His eyes were shut, his dark lashes casting shadows on his olive skin. His hair was messier than I had ever seen it. My face heated up when events of last night rushed back to me, and I tore my eyes away from him, making my way to the hot shower and letting it soothe my nerves.

Ten minutes later, I stood in front of the large floor-length mirror, studying my own reflection. I looked—less pale somehow. My face was still burning red—either from the hot shower or something else I hadn't quite named yet. Dark purple bruises were blooming around my throat, chest, and lower down my thighs. My skin seemed to tingle pleasantly with the memory of Luca's mouth, and I almost got cold feet from everything I had planned today.

But it was him. He was safe.

And so, I stepped out of the shower and made my way to him. The wall clock read four-twenty AM, and I almost felt bad waking him up. But I needed him to see the sunrise.

"Luca—" I began, then cleared my throat, leaned in closer to him, and tried again. I had modulated my voice well over the past few years—still, remembering the way he had woken me up in the car so I wasn't startled, I wanted to be sure I wasn't screaming in his face without knowing. So I reached over, stroking the stray curls off his forehead. He stirred, his eyelids fluttering open, his face breaking into a stunning smile.

He said something then, but I couldn't get my brain to read his lips. I watched the way his eyes sparkled in the pre-dawn light. He propped himself up on his elbow, the soft morning light streaking through his curls. I could feel his warmth radiating off of him. It made my stomach tighten with an odd comfort that felt like an anomaly. Everything about him was an anomaly.

"Hello—" I squeaked. "Did you rest well?"

He smirked, mouthing, 'Come here.'

He grabbed my hand, pulling me into him, pressing my back against his chest and planting a kiss right below my ear. My heart thundered somewhere near my throat as I sank into his warmth. I could feel the pleasant vibrations rumbling in his chest as he spoke something, his hand stroking my arm. I shut my eyes with a soft sigh, burying my face in the pillow. He kissed the back of my neck, my shoulder, his hand sliding into my sweatshirt to rest against my stomach as he pulled me closer into him. He nibbled my earlobe, sending butterflies erupting in my stomach.

He propped himself on his elbows, hovering over me, his mouth finding my neck, sucking softly, trailing lower down my body. His fingers rested near my waistband as I realised what was on his mind.

"Luca, wait—" I managed, cupping his face and making him look at me. He raised an eyebrow in question, resting his chin on my abdomen. "I... I want to show you the sunrise," I said, pointing at the wall clock.

He smiled, rising up to nuzzle my nose with his. "Okay," he mouthed.

I led him to the balcony, throwing open the curtains to reveal the vibrant pink hues of the sky. The air smelled like freshly cut grass, the animals on the farm already out and about. Off in the distance, I saw Henrietta—the lady who looked after the Highland cows—making her way to the barn. A soft, cool breeze greeted my face as I sighed deeply, leaning back against his chest.

He placed his chin on top of my head, his hands coming up to rest on the bannister on either side of me. The sun had started peeking its soft golden head on the far-off horizon, lighting up the grass with a soft yellow.

"It is beautiful, no?" I remarked, looking up at him. He glanced down at me, placed a kiss on my forehead, and nodded. I shut my eyes, feeling his warm, firm chest behind me and the heavenly breeze of early morning on my face. The calm serenity did not necessitate me wearing my hearing aids. It was good. It was safe.

We stood in the blissful quiet for a few minutes, basking in the gentle glow before I led him back inside.

"We could take an early train—" I said, pulling out the brochures from the bedside table, "and head to the city."

Luca yawned, slumping back into the pillows and shutting his eyes. "Or," he said, "we could sleep in."

I shook my head. "No."

He pouted.

"Maybe tomorrow," I said.

He grinned at me. "Okay, Your Highness."

"You can call me... Eli," I said, my face burning for some reason as I shoved the travel brochures back into the folder. I got to my feet, placing my open palms against my cheeks, surprised to see the contrast between my cold hands and hot skin. "Let me make you some breakfast," I said to him as I made my way to the door. He had his eyes shut, but nodded once.

I made my way down to the kitchen, my heart too fuzzy and warm to remain contained in my chest. As I did, however, my phone lit up, buzzing against the kitchen counter. I frowned at it, wondering who was calling me at five in the morning.

Incoming: Charlotte Hayes

I answered the video call, wondering if everything was okay.

"Hi, love," my mum said, turning so she could show me her background. My door. The door behind which I was currently standing.

"Mum? You're here?" I made my way toward the main doors, swinging them open to reveal my mum in a black leather jacket and trousers. She shook her head, beaming at me, and pulled me into a suffocating hug.

"Congratulations, my champion," she said, gently caressing my face.

I smiled back at her, thanking her by placing two fingers below my chin and leading her inside. I gestured for her to take a seat at the counter, making my way to the coffee machine. "How come you're here?" I asked, pointing at my ears to let her know I didn't have my aids on.

"I dropped you a message," she mouthed slowly. "And an email. You did not check it?" Her eyes widened.

Heat rose up my face as I shook my head. It was extremely unlike me not to methodically go through my emails and texts—especially from her. But considering everything that had happened last night—

"You okay, love?" she asked, leaning over the counter to place a hand on my cheek. "You are burning up."

I nodded, making slow work of the coffee and pouring three cups, realising I should probably tell her about Luca.

"I am sorry I dropped in so early; I know you must be tired after yesterday—" she said, taking a large sip of the coffee and sighing deeply. I wasn't sure she knew the real reason for my exhaustion and concluded she thought it was because of the match and the travelling. "But Jonathan's daughter's school had this huge art gallery exhibition today down at Saint Andrews, and he insisted that I go. It is raising money for cancer, so of course I said yes. Shoot wrapped up sooooo—" she groaned, "—late last night. I am running on two hours of sleep."

"You should stay here," I offered immediately. "When does her exhibition start?"

"Eleven," my mum answered. "I might actually crash for a couple of hours, to make sure I don't fall asleep on my feet there."

I nodded at her, taking a sip of the bitter caffeine and letting it awaken me fully. She placed both hands around her cup, her eyes drifting to the extra coffee still in the coffee maker. "You made extra?" she asked.

I shook my head.

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Then—?"

"Luca and I had sex."

She let out a sound that was somewhere between a choke and a laugh.

"Oh. That is... great, love. I... it is fine if you do not tell me about it, though," she enunciated slowly, her face now mirroring the colour of her mauve lipstick.

"It was... he is very sweet and patient with me, mum," I said, finding myself rambling uncontrollably, all my logic rushing out of my brain as I gushed like an infatuated child. "He is very gentle and generous. He makes me feel very... safe," I concluded, biting my tongue. "He is also extremely skilled with his mouth. In fact—"

"ELLIOT!" My mum groaned loudly, throwing her head back in a scowl. "I am very happy for you, love, but please—please spare the details."

I wasn't sure why she didn't want to know the details, but decided to heed her words anyway.

"So, this is the same Luca you told me about previously, right?" she asked. "The one you said does not know you well enough?"

I nodded.

"So are you like... dating now?" She raised her eyebrows at me.

I stared at her silently. "I do not know yet."

"But are you like... in love?" she asked as my heart thumped wildly out of my chest.

Love...

I wasn't sure.

It was true that he was an anomaly. That he made me feel a way that I could not justify through logic. He was safe, gentle, caring, and I loved how he kept touching and kissing me—and somehow it still wasn't enough. I loved the way he looked at me, like I was the most precious, beautiful thing in the world. I loved the way he understood me, on the pitch and off it. Without a single word. I loved the way he communicated in English—just so I would understand in a room full of Italians. I loved how warm and hard his body felt; I loved how his mouth felt. I loved his open, confident laugh, his cheeky smirk, his tender, aching touch. I loved how happy he got when he scored goals on the pitch, and how happy seeing his smile made me. How much I wanted him to win. How much I wanted to be the reason that he won. I loved how passionate he was, putting his heart and soul into everything.

"Oh, wow," my mum muttered, shaking her head. "You are completely pink right now."

I gulped, taking another sip of the coffee to save myself from answering her question. She tapped her nails on the counter, chewing on her bottom lip and looking away from me before turning to speak. "Well, what about him? Is he in love with you?"

I placed the cup carefully onto the counter. "How... how would you know that?"

"Well," she sat up straight. "For one, if he has told you, of course. If you are exclusive. If he puts your comfort and cares for you above his own self."

"Yesterday, even though he was clearly aroused, he did not push me because I was overwhelmed," I said, realising that was also a sign of the care that my mum was talking about.

She shut her eyes for a few seconds, grimacing before opening them. "That... that can certainly be an aspect."

"He is very caring," I stated, finishing the rest of my coffee. "He learnt to sign, albeit the wrong language. But no one apart from you has ever done that for me."

My mum sat up straight suddenly, her eyes fixed on something behind me. And I turned to see a shirtless Luca, standing at the staircase, barefoot, his face red, eyes wide as they darted between mum and me.

"Um, good morning, Ms. Hayes—" he said finally, walking up to stand beside me. He said something else, but I couldn't focus; my heart was thumping erratically near my throat.

"Luca Moretti," my mum said, smiling at him. "Elliot was, in fact, telling me all about you," she frowned slightly at me, "—perhaps a little too much."

"That... that is him, all right," he laughed weakly, making his way to the coffee machine and pouring some for himself. He said something else to my mother, who answered him with a smile, but once again, I could not bring myself to focus. My head was suddenly light, too light. Like I had buckets of wine and had forgotten about it. A pleasant fuzz travelled down my spine and warmed up my very toes.

"Well, this has been sufficiently awkward," my mum said finally, smiling at me. "I am going to take a nap in my room. Unless somebody dies—do not wake me up. Or kill someone in case you do wake me up."

I nodded at her. She flashed Luca another smile before getting to her feet and stretching, making her way up to the opposite side of the spiral staircase corridor. Luca sat in the seat she had vacated, his eyes following her as he took a sip of the coffee and then glanced at me. "Sometimes I forget who you are."

"Who am I—?" I asked.

"Yeah, like," he shook his head, leaning back and placing a hand on the counter. "Like you're... rich rich. One of Hollywood's biggest stars' sons. Shit's normal for you, huh?" He laughed. "Getting breakfast with an Oscar-winning actress?"

"Well, yes," I nodded. "She is my mother."

He chuckled. "It's just something that takes getting used to, I guess."

"She has been my mother for eighteen years," I responded. "I am used to it."

He shook his head, his eyes sparkling as he drank his coffee. "British humour, huh?"

"It was a fact," I stated, rising to my feet and making my way back into the kitchen. "I am making you some porridge and poached eggs."

I pulled out a bowl to pour in some oat milk for myself, my fingers pleasantly and uncharacteristically warm. He hadn't responded to me, or he had, and I hadn't heard it because of the odd fuzz that I seemed to be surrounded by. So, I glanced back and spoke again. He wasn't looking at me, his eyes on the ceiling as he studied the fixtures.

"Luca?" I asked again. "You would like some porridge and poached eggs?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure," he said, his eyes still fixed on the crystal chandelier.

We had a quiet breakfast, after which I reminded him about our planned excursion again.

"You are still not entertaining the sleeping-in option?" he asked when I had finished showing him my time-stamped itinerary on my phone.

"Tomorrow," I repeated.

He leaned in to kiss my cheek. "Tomorrow," he agreed.

And Ray said: LET THERE BE FLUFF.