Explore New Fiction with
Lee Quail 

The moment Adrian spotted him the man turned his gaze away as if caught. Adrian snapped his fingers. His stomach groaned. He tried to focus on a conversation with a local shop owner, but every now and then his gaze shifted towards the poetry section. 
     Finally, he excused himself from the conversation and made his way through the aisle toward the mysterious man. As Adrian neared, the man lifted his glass and said, “It’s a fine celebration,” in a light Italian accent. “Quite an achievement, taking over such a charming little shop.”
      Adrian's eyes flickered. “Thanks,” he said. “But it’s not all about the shop, it’s also about the people that makes it interesting.”
     The stranger turned slightly, his gaze locking onto Adrian. “I would think that the books make it interesting,” he mused, expressing himself playfully. “But you are right. People can make things interesting too.”
      Adrian said, “And are you the kind of person who likes to make things interesting?”
     “Depends on what you are looking for. Some people like to play it safe.”
     Adrian's grip tightened around his glass. “I don’t mind a little excitement if it’s with the right person.” He spoke with a calm that anchored him like stone, solid and immovable, leaving no trace of uncertainty.
     The stranger’s smile deepened, his gaze trailing over Adrian as if assessing him. “You are flirting,” he said. 
     “I have a feeling we’re both flirting,” Adrian said, snapping his fingers.
    The man’s dark, wavy hair fell effortlessly, untouched by vanity, yet perfectly arranged. His piercing grey eyes, framed by dark lashes, and his smile, resting on a single dimple, drew Adrian in. “I am Luca,” the man said, extending a hand. He held Adrian’s gaze as their hands clasped briefly. Firm, warm. Memorable.
     “Nice name. I’m Adrian.” Christ! You can do better than this. Nice name? Whatthefuck?
     “You are from South Africa.” Luca said as a matter of fact.
    “It seems everyone here knows me, and I’m the odd one out. I don’t know anyone,” Adrian said, he couldn’t tell if his knees were weak from the long flight or this man’s overwhelming presence. Probably both. He fought the urge to snap his fingers, a nervous habit that screamed awkward.

     Luca chuckled. “Don’t sell yourself short. A connection’s a connection, no matter how many names there are in the room.”
     Adrian wasn’t sure if it was intentional or if everything this man said just sounded effortlessly profound. Either way, it threw him off balance. 
     “Though, if I had to guess, you won’t be the odd one out for long,” Luca continued. “Italians are... welcoming. And you’ve got that look about you.”
     Adrian raised an eyebrow. “What look?”
     “That come-to-bed look.”
     “You Italians don’t waste time, do you? I’m sure we can discuss that over dinner tomorrow night. Besides, I’d love to hear more about your connection to my aunt,” Adrian said, using dear Aunt Clarissa as an excuse when all he really wanted was to see the man again.
     “Dinner is not necessary. And not possible. I would love to, but I cannot. Please forgive me.”
     Adrian opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.
     “It’s complicated,” Luca said.
     “I can do complicated,” Adrian said weakly.
     Luca met his gaze. “Not my kind, I assure you.” 
     “Try me.”
     Luca looked away. “I cannot,” he finally said. He chose his next words carefully. “There are things you do not want to know, things that would put you in a place you cannot come back from.”
     “You know, secrets have a way of destroying the people who keep them,” Adrian said. 
     Luca’s smile faded into something harder. Guarded. He studied Adrian for a long moment, leaving just the two of them in a charged silence. “Maybe,” he said, his voice a murmur just above the hum of distant chatter. “But they also destroy the people who learn them. And sometimes, it’s better to be left in the dark.”
    “What are you so afraid of?”
    “That’s the problem, Adrian. You’re not afraid enough. It’s for your own good.”
     Adrian shook his head. “You don’t get to decide that for me. If you’re trying to push me away, fine. But don’t stand there and pretend it’s for my own good. At least give me the chance to decide for myself.”
     Luca looked away. His silence spoke volumes, but Adrian wasn’t sure what it was saying. Was it guilt? Regret? Or something else entirely? Finally, he spoke, his voice strained. “Some doors, once opened, can’t be closed again. You need to understand that.”
    Adrian took a step closer. “And maybe some doors were meant to be opened. Fuck, all I did was suggest we have dinner together.”
     “You’re a good man, Adrian,” Luca said, quietly. “But there are things about me that you can’t unlearn. And if you knew them, you’d wish you never met me.”
     “You can’t know that.”
     “I do. And one day, you will too.”
     Adrian glanced over his shoulder as someone called his name from across the room, a subtle reminder that his attention was in demand. “Looks like I’m needed,” he said, sounding almost reluctant. “But don’t disappear on me, Luca. I’d hate for us to be strangers again so soon.”
     “Sure,” Luca said, his voice a touch hoarse. “I’ll... stick around.”
     As Adrian walked away to join the crowd. Their conversation echoed in his mind.
There are things you do not want to know, things that would put you in a place you cannot come back from.
I can do complicated.
Not my kind, I assure you.
Who the hell was Luca?