[LENA]
Luca was right.
The wooden sword was better. Still heavy, but much lighter than the real one.
But there was no way I was admitting that.
"Give me your hands," Luca said.
"What? Why?" For a second, I imagined him asking for my hand. Not literally, but as in, asking for my hand in marriage. I blushed like an idiot at the thought and pulled the wooden sword close to my chest, my hands wrapped tightly around the handle.
"If I may?"
Without waiting for me to respond, Luca extracted the sword from my hands and set it aside. He grabbed my hand, and a jolt of electricity burned my skin where it made contact with his. A good kind of jolt.
"Wh–what are you doing?" I stammered.
"We need to protect your delicate hands." He began wrapping a long strip of linen fabric around my hand, weaving it around my palm and fingers. "The sword is light enough, but the wood could still splinter and hurt you."
