𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝

14

matteo

It's officially been two weeks since my parents left, meaning that I have another six weeks alone with Valentina.

In these past fourteen days, I've found an inexplicable interest in the doe eyed girl that's covered in freckles.

Which are fucking adorable by the way.

There's just something about the way she walks around so confidently, like she doesn't need anyones approval to determine her self-worth. She knows she's smart, she knows she's pretty and she doesn't care if you agree or not.

But there are always moments where her guard slips, where she becomes vulnerable and this confident façade crumbles a little. In these moments I don't see a weak girl who's been alone too long, I see a strong woman who's survived so much more than I'll ever know.

It's crazy how my view of her has changed so drastically in just two weeks, God knows how I'll be thinking of her by the time my parents return.

Wrapping my wrists and shoving my boxing gloves on, I start throwing careful calculated hits at the faded red bag that's hanging in front of me, as if it were a real person.

Unlike my brother I have my own way of unwinding and distracting myself. Instead of going out to bars and clubs, I prefer to get my anger out by using my fists.

When I was younger, I was given the choice of following in my fathers footsteps or choosing my own path. I clearly chose to follow my father because I looked up to him and admired the kind of man that he was and still is today.

As a result of this choice I began training and shadowing my father as he went about his daily life. I quickly learnt that the mafia was no joke, but I was always shown the brighter side of it.

Out of all the training that I went through, my favourite has always stayed the same, combat.

Every time my fist hits the bag, a sense of relief and calamity washes over me. It's always been like an escape, a way to let out my emotions so that I can react rationally when needed.

I jab at the bag, travelling forward with a small step closer to it. Taking deep laboured breaths as I move constantly for the next half an hour, I skilfully attack the red material.

I barely even notice the door opening behind my until I hear her voice.

"Matteo?" Valentina questions and I turn around, placing my hand on the swinging bag to steady it.

Watching as her eyes take in my sweaty form as well as my black workout shorts, trainers and my bare chest. I struggle to contain a smirk when her eyes linger on my chest for a little to long.

"Principessa." I return and she snaps her gaze back to mine, the tips of her ears turning pink, a result of being caught staring.

I take a second to look at her outfit, which consists of my hoodie that she stole and some black short that show off her freckled legs. Her hair is back in it's usual plaits and wispy pieces lay around her face.

She drowns in my hoodie but it's cute.

"Can you take me to a store?" She leans agaisnt the doorway, picking at the skin around her nails.

"You could just take one of the cars you don't have to ask, you know that." Her eyes widen a little and she bites her bottom lip, mumbling something incoherent.

"What?" I question, talking my gloves off and unwrapping them before dropping them onto the floor beside me.

"I can't drive." Valentina reluctantly mutters after a second of thought.