I needed to stay away from him.That much was clear.Every time I let my guard slip, even a little, Luca Russo found a way to get under my skin. A glance, a touch, a single word spoken in that low, infuriating voice, and suddenly I was right back where I swore I wouldn’t be—on the edge of something reckless.Something dangerous.Something I couldn’t afford.So why had I gone to the match?Why had I stood there, watching him dominate the field, moving like he owned every inch of that stadium?And why—when he came to me afterward, sweat-drenched and looking at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered—had I felt like my resolve was slipping through my fingers?This had to stop.It had to.By the time I got back to my dorm, I felt like I’d run a marathon.“Where have you been?” Lila asked, sitting cross-legged on her bed, scrolling through her phone.“Nowhere,” I mumbled, stripping off my hoodie.She arched a brow. “Lies. You were at the game, weren’t you?”I groaned, flopp
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