“Nova.”

He clears his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing. “That’s a cool name,” he says, almost as if he gave the comment no thought and just blurted it out.

“Thanks,” I reply, a little breathless. “I was born with it.”

Stupid, stupid, STUPID! What a dumb thing to say!

He chuckles.

“I figured,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just meant I think it’s beautiful.”

Luca groans, flustered.

He’s flustered.

By me!

That makes two of us.

I let out a soft laugh, and his shoulders relax a little. “So, Luca— who do you play for?”

He pauses, like he’s deciding how honest to be. “Right now?” Shrug. “Technically no one. Draft is in a few months.”

“Ah,” I say, biting back a smile. “So you’re a free agent.”

I swear, he blushes. “For now.”

I nod, impressed, even though I already know all of this information. Gio’s mentioned him when we sat down—always with skepticism in his voice he saves for players with big potential and reputations he hasn’t decided on yet.

“So I’m talking to an unclaimed future pro,” I say, flashing my best smile and fluttering my lashes just enough to mess with him.

Luca looks momentarily stunned. His mouth opens like he’s going to say something, but then just—doesn’t.

It’s adorable.

So adorable, I blush, feeling it from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair—which is pale blonde at the moment. Which means that I probably look like a tomato.

Kill me.

Luca clears his throat, and it’s the most charmingly awkward sound I’ve ever heard. “Uh. So. Are you enjoying the awards?”

Oh no.

He’s resorted to small talk.

The most beautiful man alive is nervous and asking me if I’m enjoying an awards show like we’re at a middle school dance.

I want to die.

“Not really, if I’m being honest. I’m only here because my brother’s girlfriend dumped him three days ago.”

His eyes go wide. “Who would be crazy enough to dump Gio Montagalo?”

Um. Plenty of people.

I accidentally snort. “He’s not that great a prize, trust me.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re his sister.”