and then Luka exhaled, the sound coming out wet and phlegmy. “Sorry. Anyway. I don’t need you taking care of me. I got it.”
“Lu…”
“Baby, please. I’m fine, I promise you. Totally fine.” He yawned, releasing another cough, rustling the covers around him before the noise around him stilled. “Go get some rest. I’m going to down some more Nyquil and crash.”
“If you need anything…” she started, still worried. Still unconvinced that she should stay away.
“You’ll be the first person I call. I swear.”
“Fine,” she said, pushing off of the guard stand.
“I love you, nani.”
Gia smiled, her irritation depleting. “Yeah, me, too, Lu.”
It was a weird sensation—hearing Luka be so casual. Saying back all the things she’d kept hidden from him for so long. Right now, this was theirs. It was private. His mother knew about them. So did his grandfather and, of course, her uncle. But her friends didn’t know. Claire and Mimi kept busy with their boyfriends and finals and the things they did that never interested Gia. Kona, Luka had told her, had Keira and that was an entanglement that kept him out of everything except for the last remaining games they’d played.
But no one knew anything about Luka and Gia. They’d been seen together, but never holding hands. Never kissing. Never doing anything that would draw suspicion.
Luka promised her that his mother didn’t care enough about him to worry over him having a girlfriend. His grandfather could barely keep straight the days of the week and often confused Keira for Gia and Kona for Luka. Uncle Mike, though, had adopted an out of sight, out of mind policy when it came to Luka and Gia. He pretended that he’d never found Luka and Gia together. If he spotted them standing in the same room, on the field, or anywhere near each other, he’d grunt, adjust the Blue Devils ball cap on his head over his eyes then walk in the other direction.
For now, it was peaceful, and Gia liked it that way. Luka did, too, though he didn’t say as much. They were shooting for honesty. They were shooting for realness and neither of those things had anything to do with anyone else. It was good. It was nice…sometimes, though, it felt a little too nice.
“Shit, it’s cold!” Claire said, slamming into their room with her arms full of a heavy bag and two thick library books with worn spines.
Gia hurried to help her friend, taking the books so the girl could drop her bag on her bed. “This,” she told Claire, nodding toward the window, “is not cold. You’re too soft if you think it’s cold here.”
“It’s fifty-five degrees! That’s cold to me.” She pulled off her scarf and two thick jackets before bouncing once on her mattress.
Gia’s laughter was automatic, but she tried to keep her humor short. She didn’t want to fracture her friend’s weak ego. Jimmy Erikson has just broken up with her after two straight months. For Claire that was a record. “Piccola, you poor Florida girl. Come talk to me about cold when it’s February in New York and you can’t catch a cab. You’ll freeze your tits off.”
Claire waved her off, looking less than amused by Gia’s small joke, but she understood. Jimmy was a cute. She understood why Claire might be irritated that he’d broken up with her. But she hoped her friend hadn’t been pestering him again. Last time campus police had escorted her away from the team house at four a.m. When Claire emptied her bag on her bed, Gia lowered her shoulders, spotting a Blue Devils tee with Jimmy’s number on the back and a framed picture she’d given him when they first started dating.
“Sweetie?” Gia started, waving the picture at her friend in silent question.
“I know,” Claire said, jerking the frame from Gia’s hands. “But that asshole had my shirt and some of my other things. I went to get them while I knew he’d be in class.” She nodded to the items on her bed. Most were innocent looking enough—pictures of the two of them, a couple with Jimmy’s face already scribbled out in black Sharpie, a mock set of dog tags with Claire and Jimmy’s names and a half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey. Gia didn’t bother to ask about that.
“You okay?” She sat next to her friend, inching closer without touching her. Claire was high strung on a good day. She’d been flying the highest for the past month when things with her and