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“Woah.”
“What?”
“The stars.”
Luca would never get enough of the wonder that shone in the irises of your honey brown eyes. He’d never seen beauty so brazen, so outrageous since he discovered the beauty of the kitchen. Even still, that beauty was different — people moving into and around each to create the perfect dish, the best presentation, before being whisked away to the customer. That beauty was like a symphony, growing louder and louder only to be met with an uneasy silence at the end. A long pause until the song repeated its first notes, orders in and chefs working once more.
Your beauty was another deal entirely. It was of another realm. You whose smile made his heart beat twice as fast, adagio to allegro. There was no abrupt silence, no uneasiness. No pressure in waiting to hear if the customer liked the dish. No head chef to tell him he’d been moving too slow or too fast. Just you, lighting up his world so bright even the sun seethed in envy.
He’d underestimated his feelings from behind a computer screen, the distance between you and him tricking him, luring him into false security. To be fair, Marcus tried to warn him — she’s larger than life in person, he’d said. And Luca heard, but he hadn’t really listened. If he had, his heart wouldn’t have been putty in your hands when you finally met face-to-face two days ago.
“What about them?” Luca asked, hands pushed deep in his pockets. He waited with a smile until your head finally turned back down from the cosmos to his eyes. “The stars?”
“Nothing. Nothing, it’s dumb.”
“It’s not dumb. Can’t be if it makes you happy.”
Another smile, bashful this time, on your lips. You kicked a rock across the pavement. “It’s just… I’ve never really seen stars. Not like this, in person.”
Luca was only slightly taken aback, his brow raised. “Really?”
“Lights are too bright in Chicago. ‘S all you can see.” You shrugged. “And I’ve never really been anywhere rural—”
“You think Copenhagen is rural?”
“I meant in the States.” You laughed, pushing his shoulder playfully.
“I know what you meant.” He added with a chuckle. “Couldn’t really see the stars in London either. I think ‘s called light pollution or something.”
“Fuck light pollution.”
“Agreed.”
You tilted your head back up to stare at the stars, wishing that you’d paid attention in your astronomy class in college. Maybe then you’d be able to point out at least one constellation. The stars didn’t care either way. They sparkled bright, maybe even brighter than usual, just for you. You brushed a stray braid behind your ear as you slowly spun around, gazing into the night sky. “‘S really pretty.” You commented, mostly to yourself.
Luca didn’t look at the stars. Only at your eyes, at the reflection of starlight on your brown skin. “Agreed.”
Then and there, the stars bore witness to true, unashamed love.