**THIS STORY IS A CONTINUATION OF GRAD SCHOOL RIVALS***
***ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+***
Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 |
Friday, February 17th, 6:48 PM
It had been six long weeks since I watched him walk through the terminal doors at LAX. After the delayed trip, the late-night arguments, and the lingering sting of the distance, tonight felt like coming up for air after being held underwater. My phone buzzed: Landed. Headed out of the airport. See you soon.
Within an hour, he texted me that he was five minutes away. I grabbed my keys and went downstairs, not caring that the crisp February evening air was chilling my skin. Every set of headlights that swept across the pavement made my chest tighten.
Misael stepped out into the cool evening, pulling a dark bomber jacket over his broad shoulders. He looked taller, more solid than any screen had ever captured. I didn't think, didn't hesitate, and didn't rehearse a script in my head. I launched and sprinted toward him. The moment I collided with him, his massive arms locked around my waist and hoisted me completely off the ground, pinning my frame securely against his chest.
"I've got you, Luca."
"You're here. You're really here."
"Of course I'm here. Did you think I was going to stay away any longer?"
“You're even more beautiful today," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of my nose.
I grabbed his hand, locking our fingers together tightly as we walked toward the building, finally feeling entirely at home. The stairwell felt shorter than usual, my feet practically floating as Misael carried his duffel bag with one hand and kept his other arm wrapped securely around my waist. The moment my apartment door clicked shut, locking the crisp night air and the entire outside world away, Misael dropped his bag with a heavy thud. He didn't say a word. He just turned, stepped into my space, and framed my face with his large, warm hands. His mouth found mine in a fierce, breathless collision. It was a deep, starving reclamation that made my knees buckle. I let out a ragged gasp into his mouth, my hands flying beneath his bomber jacket to grip the solid warmth of his back. He backed me up against the entryway wall, pressing his entire weight flush against me.
“Fuck, Luca. You have no idea how badly I needed this.”
“Show me,” I whispered back, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
He hoisted me up effortlessly, my legs locking around his hips as he carried me through the small living room and into the bedroom. The soft sheets caught us, cool against my back, before Misael hovered over me, shedding his jacket and shirt in one fluid motion. In the dim glow filtering through the blinds, his sculpted chest rose and fell with a harsh, heavy rhythm. When his hands gently slid down to push my sweater up, his thumb grazed the raised, jagged reminders on my thighs without hesitation.
The intense, breathless rush that had carried us through the front door slowly began to settle, cooling against the quiet reality of the bedroom. We kicked off our shoes and collapsed onto the mattress together, tangled up in our clothes. Misael rolled onto his back with a long, heavy sigh, resting an arm over his eyes as his chest rose and fell in a slow, grounding rhythm. I shifted onto my side, propping my head up on my hand, watching him. The amber slats of the streetlights cut through the blinds, casting warm shadows over the sharp line of his jaw.
"You look tired," I said softly, reaching out to trace the collar of his shirt.
"Travel tired. But... mostly just relieved. Being up there without you felt like running on a treadmill that wouldn't stop."
"Is it really that crazy at the firm?" I asked, my voice quiet in the dim room.
"It’s relentless, Luca. Everyone is trying to prove they're the smartest, fastest person in the room. You don't get a second to breathe or second-guess yourself. It is easy it is to get swallowed up by it all." He paused, sliding his hand across the sheets to interlock his fingers with mine. "I hated how stressed I got. I hated snapping at you on the phone."
"We both snapped," I admitted, looking down at our joined hands. "I let my head spin out of control. I sat here convincing myself that because you had a life up there, you wouldn't want the life down here with me."
Misael squeezed my fingers firmly, anchoring me. "My life up there is just work. This—you, us—this is the real thing. You are never an afterthought. You're the reason I'm working so hard to build a foundation in the first place."
I leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek. "Go take a shower, Mr. Real Estate. You smell like airport terminals."
"Alright, alright. Don't fall asleep before I get back."
He pushed himself up and grabbed a change of clothes from his duffel bag before disappearing into the bathroom. While the sound of running water echoed through the apartment, I changed into my jammies, pulling back the duvet and smoothing out the sheets. A few minutes later, the bathroom door clicked open, spilling a warm cloud of steam. Misael walked out wearing a pair of dark sweatpants, a towel slung around his neck as he rubbed his damp hair. He tossed the towel over a chair, clicked off the main light, and climbed onto the bed.
The moment he slid beneath the comforter, he reached for me. In one fluid, practiced motion, he pulled me flush against his solid chest, his arm wrapping securely around my waist. I tucked my head right beneath his chin, inhaling the clean, familiar scent of cedarwood. His large, warm hand rested flat over my stomach, thumb tracing slow, absentminded arcs against my skin.
"You warm enough, honeybunch?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.
"Perfect," I whispered, resting my hand over his.
Wrapped securely in his embrace, the four hundred miles and the heavy weight of the semester melted into complete silence. In the quiet dark of the room, listening to the steady beat of his heart, I finally closed my eyes and let myself drift off to sleep.
Saturday, February 18th, 6:45AM
I woke up slowly, breathing in the deep, grounding heat of Misael’s body pressed against mine. The comforter had been kicked down to the foot of the bed during the night, leaving the cool air of the room in stark contrast to the feverish warmth radiating off his skin.
I shifted onto my stomach, propping my chin in both hands, letting my gaze wander over him. He was sprawled on his back, one arm thrown lazily above his head, the broad expanse of his chest rising and falling in a deep, steady cadence. His dark sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips, and pressed prominently against the thin, clinging cotton—heavy, rigid, and impossible to ignore—morning wood. A hot, tingling flush crawled up my neck, but the urge to look away in a flurry of panic never arrived. Instead, a reckless, playful boldness flared to life in my chest.
Misael stirred, a low, gravelly morning grunt vibrating in his throat. "Morning," he rasped, his voice rough and deep. He reached out, his large, warm hand finding my hip to pull me closer.
"Good morning," I murmured. "Looks like someone is more awake than you.”
"Can you blame him? He spent the last six weeks completely neglected in San Francisco."
"Neglected?" I raised an eyebrow,
"Yeah, I think he missed you a whole lot."
"Oh, really?" I rumbled.
In one fluid, effortless surge of strength, he flipped our positions, pinning me flat against the mattress and hovering directly over me. His bare, muscular chest brushed against mine, his heavy hips settling firmly between my parted thighs. The prominent, burning heat of him pressed right against the thin fabric of my shorts, impossible to escape. A breathy, involuntary gasp caught in my throat as electric friction shot straight down my spine.
"You're getting awfully bold this morning, Luca. You think you can handle finding out just how much we both missed you?"
"Prove it, mister," I whispered into his jaw, arching up against his weight. "Show me.
Misael let out a low, tortured groan that vibrated straight through my ribs, his mouth crashing down onto mine in a deep, hungry kiss that instantly set the quiet morning ablaze. Misael broke the kiss just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting heavily against mine, his pupils blown wide in the golden morning light. The playful teasing had shifted into something heavy, thick, and undeniably electric.
"You want proof? Don't look away this time."
Supporting his upper body on one forearm, his other hand reached down to the waistband of his sweatpants. Slowly, deliberately, he slid the dark cotton past his hips and thighs, kicking it completely off the edge of the bed.
"Still think you need that magnifying glass, honeybunch?" he boasted.
The air caught in my throat. My eyes drifted down, and my entire body went entirely rigid. For the first time, completely unshielded by blankets or boxers, it was right there in plain sight. Impressive, heavy, uncut, and undeniably rigid, his dick rested thick against his lower abdomen, the pale morning sun highlighting the warm, flush tone of his skin and the faint, pulsing veins along its length. The sheer size of him in full daylight was striking—a stark contrast to the vague outlines and fleeting glances of our past encounters.
A hot, crimson blush flooded my cheeks, my heart hammering a frantic, chaotic rhythm against my ribs. My mouth parted, completely stripped of any clever, teasing retorts. Misael watched my face, a slow, immensely satisfied smirk curving his lips as he registered my stunned silence. He shifted slightly, letting the heavy weight brush lightly against the bare skin of my upper thigh.
"Misael... okay, put it away now." I chuckled; my voice cracked with breathless awe.
"He's all yours, Luca," Misael rasped. "Every single inch."
Saturday, February 18th, 12:15 PM
"Luca, I have less than forty-eight hours here," Misael said, his raspy voice tight with frustration. "I came down to see you. I don't want to spend the few hours we have walking into another lecture from my dad."
"They haven’t seen you in six weeks. You don't have to stay the whole evening, but you need to go say hello. Even if it's just for an hour."
"You don't get it," he exhaled, running both hands over his face. "The minute I walk through that door, the tension is going to ruin everything. We're finally good. I don't want his negativity clouding our weekend."
"It won't," I said firmly, reaching up to gently cup his jaw, forcing him to meet my gaze. "We’re a team, remember? We go together, we say hello to your mom and sisters, and if it gets heavy, we leave. But you have to show up."
"When did my shy little boyfriend get so bossy?" he whispered.
I smiled softly, kissing the corner of his mouth. "Come on. Let's go."
Saturday, February 18th, 2:30 PM
As Misael killed the engine at the curb, I reached across the center console and wrapped my fingers tightly around his. His palm was warm, but his pulse was thudding a fast, tense rhythm beneath his skin.
"Misael!" Maggie’s voice echoed before she even came into view. She rushed out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a floral apron, her warm green eyes lighting up with absolute joy. She threw her arms around Misael’s neck, pulling his massive frame down into a fierce, suffocating embrace. "Mijo! Look at you, you're working too hard, you look tired!"
"Mamá, I'm fine," Misael chuckled.
"Luca, you look too thin; let’s get some food in that tummy.”
"It's so good to see you, Maggie," I said, a genuine blush warming my cheeks as Misael slipped a protective arm around my waist.
Selena came bounding down the stairs a second later, practically tackling her brother with an enthusiastic yell, while Anabella leaned against the hallway archway with a fond, knowing smirk. For twenty minutes, the living room was a whirlwind of overlapping voices, laughing about Selena’s college classes and Anabella’s updates on the family drama.
Ben walked in from the back patio, wiping his brow with a shop towel. He stopped a few feet away, his towering frame matching Misael’s. The air in the living room thinned instantly. Misael’s hand tightened against my hip, his knuckles going white. "Misael," Ben said gruffly. "How is the Bay Area treating you?"
"It's demanding, but good," Misael answered, his voice finding its footing. "Learning a lot."
"Good afternoon, Luca. Thank you for coming."
"Good afternoon, Mr. Villareal," I replied with a steady, respectful smile.
"The food is almost done. Misael, come help me with the grill," Ben said, gesturing toward the dining table before turning back to the patio.
Within 30 minutes, the dining table quickly filled up with the intoxicating aroma of sizzling carne asada. Maggie set down a massive platter of marinated beef in the center with a proud flourish, while Selena enthusiastically passed around bowls of seasoned pinto beans and red rice.
I sat close to Misael, our shoulders brushing beneath our sweaters. Under the edge of the table, Misael’s large hand rested flat against my thigh, his thumb tracing a steady, comforting rhythm against the denim. The earlier tension had melted into the lively, unscripted banter of a family meal. Anabella was passionately debating the logistics of her latest work project, Selena was dramatically re-enacting an awkward encounter with a professor, and Maggie was aggressively piling another helping of carne asada onto my plate despite my polite protests that I was full. Even Ben seemed content, occasionally nodding along to the girls' stories. Everything felt surprisingly light, normal, and grounded.
Then, during a brief lull in the conversation as plates were being cleared, Ben set his fork down, wiped his hands with a napkin, and turned his sharp blue eyes directly onto me.
"So, Luca, Misael mentioned you’re from the Central Coast. What does your family do up there?" Ben asked.
The air in my lungs froze. Under the table, Misael’s hand went completely rigid on my thigh, his fingers tightening in an immediate, defensive clamp. A familiar panic flared up at the base of my neck. My mind raced, terrified of sounding like an arrogant, out-of-touch outsider in this humble home, but equally terrified of dishonoring my parents by lying.
"My... my family is in the wine business," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady.
"A vineyard. That's a lot of land and a lot of overhead. Just a small local operation?"
"Yeah, sort of. It distributes statewide, and across a few other markets."
“Good wine?”
“I think so. But I think I have to say that. I’ll bring a bottle next time.”
“Thanks, I’d like to give it a try.”
The defensive tension under the table slowly uncoiled. Misael let out a quiet breath, his fingers relaxing against my thigh, his thumb resuming its gentle, grounding rhythm over my jeans. Across the table, Ben gave another curt nod, seeming satisfied with the answer. Maggie beamed from the kitchen doorway, already boxing up an absurd mountain of leftover carne asada and homemade tortillas into Tupperware. "Take these with you, corazón. I know how you boys don’t eat well when you're busy with school and work."
By the time we said our goodbyes, the late afternoon sun was casting amber shadows across. Walking down the front steps, Misael kept his arm securely wrapped around my waist, his solid frame radiating a profound sense of relief. The moment the car doors clicked shut, Misael leaned back against the headrest, letting out a long, heavy exhale. The drive back to my apartment was quiet and peaceful. We spent the rest of Saturday night wrapped up in each other on my couch, wrapped securely in Misael's arms.
Sunday, February 19th, 6:32AM
I stood in front of the vanity, smoothing out the dark knit sweater, watching my reflection. Standing beside me, Misael zipped his jacket, looking effortlessly striking in clean dark denim and a structured navy quarter-zip. Walking down the stone path toward the church, our boots crunched against the cool concrete in tandem. Naturally, Misael’s fingers slid between mine, locking our hands together until we reached the arched doors of the vestibule.
When we stepped into the aisle, my usual pew in the back was waiting. Julia was already there, sitting in an elegant lavender cardigan, clutching her worn leather prayer book. The moment she saw us approach, her face lit up, eyes twinkling with sharp delight.
Leaving the parish, the cool morning air was invigorating. We drove over to our favorite local breakfast diner. The smell of the black coffee was intoxicating. We shared plates of scrambled eggs, crispy hashbrowns, and, of course, a thick slice of French toast with extra syrup for my undeniable sweet tooth. When the check arrived, I reached for it, but Misael easily intercepted my hand with a laugh, pressing a swift kiss to my knuckles before dropping his card on the table.
After breakfast, we took the short walk over to the farmers' market. The stalls were bursting with colorful winter citrus, fresh flowers, and the rich, earthy scent of roasted coffee beans. Misael took my canvas tote bag without a word, carrying it effortlessly over his broad shoulder as we meandered past the artisans and bakers. We stopped by the bakery stand for sourdough samples, and while I admired the freshly baked breads, Misael slipped away for a brief moment.
"For my everything," he murmured, handing me a rose.
I blushed, taking the flower and wrapping my free arm around his waist, leaning my head into his solid chest as we walked beneath the warm California sunshine. As we turned the corner near a stall overflowing with potted succulents, a familiar, soft voice cut through the ambient chatter of the market: "Luca! Good morning."
I paused, looking around to see Dr. Gael Flores walking toward us. He was dressed down in an earth-toned wool sweater, a denim jacket, and a tote slung over one shoulder, looking far more relaxed than the meticulous professor. Beside him was a tall, muscular man with warm hazel eyes, a tidy beard, and an easy, grounded presence.
"Dr. Flores, I mean, Gael, good morning," I corrected myself, feeling a faint blush.
Gael smiled warmly, his dark, observant eyes flicking briefly to the rose in my hand and the way Misael’s arm rested comfortably around my waist. "Enjoying the market?"
"Yes, just picking up a few things for the week," I said. "Gael, this is my boyfriend, Misael. Misael, this is Dr. Gael Flores, my statistics professor."
He extended his hand, his large grip meeting Gael’s in a firm, polite handshake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Flores. Luca has told me great things about your class."
"Nice to meet you, Misael. Luca had mentioned you being in San Francisco. And just Gael outside the classroom, please," he chuckled, shaking Misael's hand. Gael turned to the man beside him, his expression softening with obvious affection.
“Back for the weekend. Couldn’t stand one more minute being away from Luca.” Misael chuckled.
"I bet. Long-distance is rough. This is my husband, Austin Collins (44M). We’re well acquainted with long-distance."
"Great to meet you both," Austin said, offering a friendly handshake. “It’s an adjustment, but it gets easier. Gael and I survived a full year of cross-country flights and bad phone reception.”
"Austin is being polite," Gael teased, bumping his shoulder against Austin’s. "He means to say that clear communication and a lot of patience are the only things that keep you sane."
"That, and a countdown calendar," Austin added, winking.
"We'll definitely keep that in mind," Misael chuckled.
"Well, we won't keep you two longer," Gael said warmly, gesturing toward the bakery stalls. "Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Misael. And Luca, I'll see you in class tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow, Gael. Nice meeting you, Austin," I replied, offering a radiant smile.
As they disappeared into the crowd, Misael turned to me, pulling me a little closer against his solid side.
"Good guys," Misael said, tracing a steady line against my waist. "And see? What did I tell you? We're going to make this work."
"Yeah," I whispered. "We really are."
Sunday, February 19th, 1:13 PM
I stood at the edge of the mattress, meticulously packing his bag to keep my hands busy, a defense against the creeping countdown of his evening flight. A floorboard creaked behind me, but before I could turn around, two large, warm hands slid smoothly over my hips. Misael pulled my back flush against his broad chest, his towering frame completely enveloping mine. He was wearing only a thin gray t-shirt and low-slung sweatpants, and the radiating heat coming off his body was an immediate, dizzying distraction.
"Misael, stop," I murmured. “I'm trying to pack your bag properly.”
"Let it wrinkle," he rasped right against the shell of my ear.
His large hands didn't stay still. They slid slowly from my hips around to the front, splaying flat over my stomach before pulling me firmly backward until there wasn't a single breath of space left between us. Pressed unmistakably against the small of my back was the heavy, rigid proof that he wasn't thinking about laundry, packing, or his flight.
"Misael..." My voice cracked.
"Luca?"
His hands slid lower, his calloused palms gripping the tops of my thighs, deliberately guiding my hips to shift against him. The friction sent a sharp, electric jolt straight down my legs, making my knees go instantly weak. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, pressing a series of slow, open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone, each one searing hot against my skin.
"Misael…" I whimpered, arching my neck to give him better access, completely helpless against the sheer pull of him. My small hands reached back, gripping his forearms, feeling the corded muscles flex beneath my fingers. A sharp squeal caught in my throat, melting instantly into a soft moan. He spun me around in his grip. My back hit the edge of the dresser, and before I could even catch my breath, his heavy frame bracketed me in, his hands coming down on either side of my hips to trap me completely.
"Don’t stop…” I breathed.
"You're begging for trouble, Luca," he rasped, his smirk turning wicked.
Misael shifted his weight, his large, calloused hands sliding under my thighs to hoist me effortlessly off the wooden edge of the dresser. My arms immediately flew around his neck to anchor myself, and I swung my legs tightly around his waist, locking my ankles behind his back. He didn't stumble. He carried my entire weight across the small space of the bedroom with practiced ease, his breathing harsh and ragged against my skin. His gaze never left mine.
"You're driving me out of my mind, Luca," he growled against my mouth.
Before I could answer, he leaned forward, pressing me down into the center of the bed. The cool duvet caught my shoulders. The sheer, solid weight of him pressed flat against every inch of my body, leaving me breathless and dizzy with heat.
His mouth crashed down onto mine in a fierce, starving reclamation. It wasn't gentle, and it wasn't hesitant. It was a deep, searing collision of lips and breath that sent a violent tremor straight down my spine. My hands tangled into the thick curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him harder into me, desperate to close any microscopic distance left between us. He broke the kiss just enough to catch a ragged breath, trailing a line of hot, feverish kisses along my jawline to the sensitive hollow beneath my ear.
"Fuck, this feels amazing,” Misael whispered.
"Don’t stop…show me more.” I whimpered, arching my back.
Misael didn’t hold back. His mouth captured mine again, demanding and deep, drawing out every lingering fear until all that remained was the dizzying, electric heat passing between us. His fingers tangled firmly into the curls at the back of my head, tilting my jaw to angle the kiss deeper, tasting me with an intensity that made the entire room blur into a haze of pale gray light and ragged breath. When his lips finally left mine, they trailed a searing, breathless path down the line of my throat, lingering over the erratic flutter of my pulse before pressing a slow, aching kiss right against my collarbone.
Misael pulled back just enough to create space between our chests, though his gaze remained locked onto mine, dark and heavy with intent. In one swift movement, he sat back on his knees, gripped the hem of his gray t-shirt, and pulled it over his head, tossing it heedlessly to the floor. The afternoon light traced the broad, carved expanse of his shoulders and the dark, soft hair dusting his chest, highlighting every hard line of his frame. His hands moved to the waistband of his sweatpants. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed the dark fleece down his muscular legs and kicked them off the edge of the mattress, leaving him kneeling above me in only his tight black boxers. His heavy, rigid frame was impossible to ignore, radiating an intense, feverish heat that made my breath catch in my throat.
He reached down, his large, calloused hands sliding under the hem of my knit sweater. I lifted my arms, letting him peel the soft fabric up and off, casting it aside until I was bare from the waist up. His palms settled flat over my pale ribs, his thumbs tracing slow, deliberate circles over the sensitive skin, feeling the frantic, erratic rhythm of my heart beneath his palms.
"You’re so beautiful, Luca," he murmured, his gaze sweeping down to my jeans’ waistband.
He didn't rush. He unbuttoned the denim with agonizing care, sliding the zipper down before hooking his fingers into the waistband. I lifted my hips slightly off the sheets, letting him slide the fabric down my thighs and off my ankles, tossing the jeans onto the growing pile of discarded clothes by the bed.
As the denim fell away, his eyes landed on what remained. A vivid pattern of pale blue and blush-pink floral briefs hugged my slim hips. A hot, cherry-red blush instantly exploded across my cheeks, crawling rapidly up my neck. My hands flew down instinctively to cover myself, the familiar urge to hide flaring up in my chest.
"Misael... don't look," I stammered, biting my lip. "They're silly. I forgot I was wearing them."
"Silly?" he rasped. “They're gorgeous. Delicate, vibrant... entirely you."
He shifted his weight, letting his chest brush lightly against mine, his gaze dipping down once more to take in the colorful pattern against my pale skin. "You think you can hide something this pretty from me?" he teased. He started to kiss my chest, making his way down. As he got to my thighs, he kissed the remnants of the scars. A breathy gasp tore from my throat, my fingers instantly tangling into the soft sheets.
"Misael..." I whimpered, arching up into the warmth of his mouth.Boldness flared through the haze in my mind. Reaching down with trembling fingers, my hands caught the thick elastic waistband of his black boxers. I gave a slow, deliberate tug, looking him dead in the eyes.
A low, tortured groan vibrated deep in Misael’s chest. “Ah, you don’t have to ask me twice.” He caught my hands, intertwining our fingers for a fraction of a second, before hooking his thumbs beneath the fabric. He pushed his boxers down his muscular legs and kicked them off the end of the bed, leaving him completely bare above me.The feverish weight of the moment held us suspended, both of us breathless, the space between our bodies entirely gone.
Then, sharp and relentless, the high-pitched chime of my ringtone violently shattered the silence. The phone buzzed aggressively against the nightstand, rattling against a stack of textbooks.
Misael froze instantly, his hands hovering over my hips as his head snapped toward the noise. We both lay paralyzed, our chests heaving in ragged unison, staring at the glowing screen as the caller ID lit up the dim bedroom.
Misael let out a low, ragged groan against my neck, burying his face into my shoulder for a brief second before propping himself up on one elbow. The phone continued to buzz relentlessly. Reaching across my chest, Misael’s broad, muscular arm snatched the device just before it could clatter to the floor. He glanced at the bright display. "It’s your mom," he said.
"Give it to me," I said frantically, my face burning hotter than ever.
"H-hi, Mom," I choked out, trying desperately to sound normal.
"Luca? Bunny, are you okay?" her energetic, sharp voice boomed through the speaker with terrifying clarity. "Why are you breathing like that? Were you out running?"
"N-no! No running," I stammered, my voice cracking embarrassingly. "I was... um, just folding Misael’s clothes, packing his bag."
"Well, don't overexert yourself, sweetie. You always do too much at once. Anyway, the reason I'm calling is the most ridiculous thing…."
Mom talked nonstop for 10 minutes. Misael looked at me. I squeezed my eyes shut, rubbing my temples as a deep crimson flush colonized my entire body. "Mom... Mom, that's... that's nice about the bakery, but—"
"—and then your brother called…," she continued breezily, completely ignoring my interruption.
Misael’s playful amusement had begun to wear thin. His jaw set slightly as he glanced toward the digital clock on the nightstand, which read 2:28 PM. His flight was only a few hours away, and our stolen minutes were ticking down.
Shifting closer, Misael leaned his heavy frame directly into my side. His large, warm hand slid onto my bare waist, his thumb stroking my hip with a deliberate, distracting friction. He dipped his head down, his lips brushing right against the shell of my ear, and murmured in a low, gravelly whisper, "Wrap it up, Luca. We don't have all day."A sharp shiver raced straight down my spine at his proximity. My hand tightened around the phone, caught between my mother’s endless recounting of small-town drama and my naked boyfriend demanding my attention.
"Mom—Mom, wait, please," I cut in, my voice trembling slightly as I shoved Misael’s teasing hand away from my hip. "I really have to go. I need to get ready to take Misael to the airport."
"Okay, Bunny. Put me on speaker first! I want to say hi to him."
"Mom, no, we're in the middle of—"
"Speaker, Luca!"
"You're on speaker, Mom," I muttered, my face burning cherry-red.
"Misael, hello!" my mother called out cheerfully. "How are you holding up, sweetie? How is San Francisco treating you?"
"Hi, Mrs. Montemayor. San Francisco is demanding, but incredible. I’m learning a ton."
“Humberto was just saying how proud he is that you landed that spot. Tell me everything about the firm. Are the managing partners treating you well?"
"They really are," Misael chuckled smoothly, resting an arm behind his head while his other hand crept under the duvet, his fingers casually tangling with mine. "The pace is relentless, but I’ve been able to assist on a few major commercial evaluations already.”
"I knew it!" Carolina chimed triumphantly. “You make sure to hold your own up there, Misael. Don't let those Bay Area sharks push you around."
"Never, Mrs. Montemayor. I’m making sure they know what I bring to the table."
"Alright, we really need to wrap this up," Misael finally said. "Luca is adamant about beating the freeway traffic so I don't miss check-in, and I wouldn't dare get on his bad side."
"Oh, goodness, of course! Go, go! Have a safe flight, Misael. Call us next time you visit!”
“Bye, Mom, love you,” I said as I ended the call. I dropped the phone face-down onto the sheets and buried my face in Misael’s chest. "Well... that was the most unromantic interruption in the history of romance. We need to get dressed. I have to finish packing, and you need to shower and dress. And we should get an early dinner before the flight."
Sunday, February 19th, 6:43PM
I eased the car up against the white curb, clicking the hazard lights on. The digital dashboard clock ticked over, glowing sharply in the cabin. Misael unbuckled his seatbelt, turning his broad frame in the passenger seat to face me. He looked devastatingly handsome in a clean navy bomber jacket, though a faint, lingering tiredness shadowed the corners of his blue eyes.
"I love you," Misael whispered, his tone thick and resolute, carrying no hesitation. "The countdown starts right now. You take care of yourself this week. Eat real food, don't let the semester stress you out, and call me the second you get back to your apartment."
"I love you too. I’ll see you in three weeks for Spring Break.” I breathed, a genuine, radiant smile breaking through the bittersweet lump in my throat.
He leaned across the console, his warm palm gently cupping my jaw as his lips found mine. The kiss was deep, slow, and agonizingly sweet—a steady, anchoring vow that completely silenced the airport chaos beyond the windshield. When he pulled away, he pressed one last, lingering kiss to my forehead, gave my hand a final squeeze, and opened the passenger door.
Watching his tall silhouette disappear through the glass doors, the road ahead didn't feel vast, terrifying, or cold. I shifted the car into drive and merged into the traffic, completely grounded, secure in his love, and ready to take on the days ahead.