Page 5 of Siren's Heart

Luca

I struggle with my bags as I walk out of the elevator, searching for the key to my new, temporary apartment all while pulling a suitcase behind me, having a bag slung over my shoulder and listening to my sister on the phone giving me all kinds of updates on our parents shenanigans.

“So they had a barbecue and Dad almost managed to set the house on fire,” Summer explains and recounts how half of the attending people scrambled for an extinguisher and then struggled with getting it to work.

Where is that fucking key? I should have put it into my pocket when I took it out of the envelope my manager had delivered to me. Why did my half-asleep brain think it was smart to put it in my bag?

I sigh relieved when I find it.

“Are you even listening, Luca?” Summer asks annoyed and I roll my eyes.

“Of course I’m listening. Excuse me for also trying to get into my apartment after a gruelling day of traveling.” I finally put my key inside the door and sigh relieved when it opens.

"There you are, Fucker!" A loud voice booms right as I shove the door open and I jump, almost dropping my phone that's clamped between my shoulder and my ear. My whole body tenses, ready to either fight or get the fuck back out of here.

"What the hell?" Finally, I register who the voice belongs to. My heart is still beating in my throat and I'm still frozen in place. God, I'd be fucked if he was an actual intruder.

"Don't scream into my ear, Luca," Summer scolds me from the other end of the line, her voice sounding distant. She’s probably holding the phone away from her ear. I roll my eyes.

“Sorry, the next time I’m scared someone broke into my home, I’ll make sure to tell you calmly.”

"Wait, was that... Asher?" my sister asks with amusement tainting her voice, ignoring my sarcastic remark. Finally, my body decides to listen to me again, and I whip my head around, looking in the direction his voice came from - in my apartment for the next months, I might add. Van did not tell me I’d have a roommate, so how the fuck did he get in here?

I take a deep breath, willing my racing heart to calm down. Then I make my way further into the apartment. I find him, around the next corner, standing in my kitchen, leaning against the counter like he fucking owns the place. When he notices me, a wide smile spreads on his face.

"It is," I let Summer know and shoot him a glare.

"Say 'hi' to him for me," she demands with a chuckle, and I hear some shuffling and voices in the background. "And from Mom. She asks if you could get an autograph for one of the ladies in her reading circle. And Dad is asking for one for his golf buddy's son’s girlfriend."

"Don't you think his damn ego is big enough?" I ask extra loudly to make sure he hears, my eyes still narrow in a glare. Then I say my goodbyes to her and end the call.

I love my little sister with all my heart, but she has the worst timing when it comes to calling me. The last time, she rang me just as I stepped foot into an audition, before that, when I was about to jump off a roof for the movie I was playing in. And now, when my best friend, who I haven't seen in months, is getting on his tiptoes to plant his butt on my kitchen counter, which I just realize is unsanitary as fuck.

Nine years ago, when I was twenty years old to his twenty-two, we were cast as brothers in a series that went on for four seasons. During that time, we grew close as can be.

It didn’t take long until we became brothers, not just on the screen. At work, we played emotionally constipated siblings who could barely stand each other on a good day, but in private, we were inseparable. We alternated Thanksgiving dinners and Christmas celebrations, one year at my parents’ house, one year at his.

I'm pretty sure my parents offered to adopt him at one point. His father also drunkenly put the offer on the table after a particularly wine-filled dinner. My sister would probably jump at the chance to switch me out for Asher, apparently knowing him is more brag-able in her friend circle at college than being related to me. When I told her that at least I'm brag-able compared to her, she punched my arm so hard I had a bruise for two weeks. Guess she can’t handle the truth.

"Who are you calling a Fucker?" I call him out with a chuckle and finally set down my travel bags. Or more like throwing them in a corner, stretching my shoulders when the weight is finally off them.

He grabs the bottle of beer on the counter next to him. "You're right, my mistake." He takes a swig. "Not like you're currently getting any action."

"Ha, ha," I say dryly and roll my eyes. For a second, we look at each other, and then both of our faces break into wide grins at the same time. "It's been a while, brother."

"Way too long," he agrees. We skip the bro-hug handshake and go straight for the hug, clapping each other's shoulders.

"Damn, you're firm like a fucking boulder," I say in awe and hit his shoulder again.

"Can't say the same, but I'm sure the trainers are going to have a field day whipping you into shape." A booming laughter fills the room as he lets me go, only to flex his bicep.

"Hey, I have the body of a runner," I retort and lift my shirt to show off my abs. "Look at these bad boys."

He squints his eyes, acting like they're not visible, even though my trainers put me through the wringer over the past months to look good for the action movie I just finished filming. I know he's full of shit.

"Whatever.” I let go of my shirt and roll my eyes. “I bet you can't walk up a flight of stairs without taking a break to catch your breath."

"Shut up and drink a beer." He opens the fridge - my fridge, and hands me one.

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