We Should Be Lovers Instead
Description
I've always been "the quiet, nerdy guy." The guy with his nose buried in a book, the guy people barely notice. But my world is a lot more complicated than it seems. You see, I'm absolutely, hopelessly in love with my best friend, Luca Reyes-the bad boy everyone wants but nobody can quite hold onto. And he has no idea. Luca and I have been friends forever. We banter, we laugh, and we're close. But to him, I'm just Noah, the guy he'll confide in about everything-except his new flings, like whatever flavor-of-the-week he's currently entertaining. Meanwhile, Luca and I share this strange, unspoken chemistry that I can't ignore, even if we act like it's no big deal. But everything changes the night I get roped into a game at Jace's party. When things get messy, he looks at me differently. And this... this is the story of how I fell for Luca Reyes.
Chapter 1
Aug 19, 2025
I’ve always been “the quiet, nerdy guy.” The guy with his nose buried in a book, the guy people barely notice. But my world is a lot more complicated than it seems. You see, I’m absolutely, hopelessly in love with my best friend, Luca Reyes—the bad boy everyone wants but nobody can quite hold onto. And he has no idea.
Luca and I have been friends forever. We banter, we laugh, and we’re close. But to him, I’m just Noah, the guy he’ll confide in about everything—except his new flings, like whatever flavor-of-the-week he’s currently entertaining. Meanwhile, Luca and I share this strange, unspoken chemistry that I can’t ignore, even if we act like it’s no big deal.
But everything changes the night I get roped into a game at Jace’s party. When things get messy, he looks at me differently.
And this… this is the story of how I fell for Luca Reyes.
-----
Warning: Prolonged exposure to Luca may cause flirty eye contact, accidental hard-ons, and the sudden urge to kiss a boy you’re not supposed to want.
He’s the kind of beautiful that ruins straight—lips like a dare, smile like a trap, and every guy in the room pretending they’re not looking.
Me? I’m looking.
And I have no idea what that says about me… except maybe I’ve known for a while.
-----
“Your face looks like you’re calculating nuclear fallout scenarios again.”
I jerked my head up from my textbook, because of course Luca goddamn Reyes could sneak up on me in a library that echoed every footstep. He dropped into the chair across from me like he owned the place—which, let’s be honest, he basically did. Everyone at Westfield High either wanted to be him or be with him.
“That’s because I’m reading about Chernobyl,” I shot back, trying to ignore how his stupid perfect smile made my brain go all fuzzy. “You know, actual disasters. Unlike your last chemistry test.”
“Ouch.” He clutched his chest dramatically. “And here I thought we were friends.”
Friends. Right. That’s what we called this cosmic joke where I’d been pathetically in love with my best friend since we were fourteen and he’d accidentally held my hand during a horror movie marathon. Three years of perfect torture, and he still had no clue that every time he smiled at me like that, I forgot how to function like a normal human being.
The whole thing started because of detention, actually. Freshman year, I’d gotten busted for “disrupting class” (aka correcting Mr. Peterson’s factually incorrect lesson about the Cold War), and Luca had been there for skipping practice to help his little sister with her science project. We’d spent two hours arguing about whether Captain America could realistically survive being frozen, and somehow that turned into daily lunch conversations, study sessions, and Luca becoming the only person who could make me laugh until my ribs hurt.
“We are friends,” I said, pushing my glasses up. “That’s why I haven’t reported you to the authorities for crimes against literature.”
“Hey, I read your debate notes. That counts.”
“You read them to cheat off my history homework.”
“Multi-tasking.” He grinned and stole my highlighter without asking, twirling it between his fingers. “Speaking of which, I have a proposition.”
My stomach did this annoying flip thing it always did when Luca said stuff like that. Which was stupid, because he probably just wanted help with his English essay or something equally devastating to my already nonexistent social life.
“I’m not doing your homework again.”
“Not homework.” He leaned forward, and I caught a whiff of his cologne mixed with whatever fruity shampoo he used. It should’ve been illegal for someone to smell that good. “Jace is throwing a party tomorrow night.”
I blinked. “Okay?”
“You should come.”
The highlighter slipped out of my fingers and clattered onto the table. “I should what now?”
“Come to the party. With me.” He said it like he wasn’t suggesting I voluntarily walk into social suicide. “It’ll be fun.”
“Fun.” I repeated the word like it was in a foreign language. “You want me—debate captain, owner of exactly zero party experience and a pathological fear of small talk—to go to a party hosted by your ex-whatever Jace Morrison.”
“He wasn’t my ex anything,” Luca said, rolling his eyes. “We just hooked up a few times.”
“Right. The guy whose Instagram story is basically a shrine to your abs.”
Luca’s grin turned wolfish. “You follow his stories?”
Shit.
“I follow local disasters. You’re usually featured.”
“I’m flattered you keep such close tabs on my love life, Linwood.”
My cheeks burned. This was exactly why I couldn’t have normal conversations with him. He’d say something like that with that stupid smirk, and I’d remember that I was hopelessly gone for someone who collected hookups like baseball cards.
“I don’t keep tabs on anything,” I muttered. “I just have functioning eyes and Instagram notifications.”
“Uh-huh.” He was still grinning like he’d caught me in some brilliant trap. “So you’ll come?”
“To watch you make out with half the soccer team? Hard pass.”
“Who says I’m making out with anyone?”
“Your entire dating history?”
He laughed, throwing his head back like I’d told the world’s funniest joke instead of stating obvious facts. “Maybe I want to hang out with my favorite nerd instead.”
My heart did this stupid stuttering thing. “I’m not your favorite anything.”
“You’re definitely my favorite debate partner.”
“I’m your only debate partner. You got banned from the team for arguing that Hamilton was better than Jefferson because he was hotter.”
“And I stand by that position.”
“You can’t base historical analysis on attractiveness levels, Luca.”
“Watch me.” He leaned back in his chair, balancing on two legs like he was physically incapable of sitting still. “Come on, Noah. One party. I promise I’ll protect you from any forced socialization.”
I stared at him, trying to figure out his angle. Luca didn’t need me at parties. He had approximately seventeen different friend groups who’d kill for his attention. He had hookups lined up through graduation and a social calendar that looked like a modeling agency’s schedule.
“Why do you even want me there?”
Something shifted in his expression, just for a second. Something softer.
“Because I like hanging out with you. And because parties are more fun when you’re around to make sarcastic commentary.”
“I don’t make sarcastic commentary.”
“You literally spent last week’s basketball game providing a running analysis of everyone’s questionable life choices.”
“That was anthropological observation.”
“That was hilarious.” He reached across the table and flicked my pen. “Plus, you’ll keep me from doing anything too stupid.”
“So you want me to babysit your decision-making?”
“I want you to come have fun with me.” He said it so simply, like it wasn’t the most complicated sentence in the English language. “Wear something that isn’t gray or navy blue. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
My brain short-circuited. “I didn’t say yes.”
“You didn’t say no either.”
“Luca—”
“It’s one night, Noah. What’s the worst that could happen?”
I could think of approximately forty-seven ways this could end in disaster, starting with me making an ass of myself and ending with everyone at school realizing I was pathetically in love with someone who’d never see me as anything more than his nerdy sidekick.
But he was looking at me with those stupidly pretty brown eyes, waiting for an answer like my decision actually mattered to him.
“Fine,” I heard myself say. “But I’m not drinking, I’m not dancing, and if anyone tries to make me play beer pong, I’m calling an Uber.”
Luca’s smile could’ve powered the whole school. “Deal.”
He stood up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder with that effortless grace that made me irrationally jealous.
“See you tomorrow night, Linwood.”
We Should Be Lovers Instead
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