𝐀 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐎𝐟 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠

❥ 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑬𝑵

ARTEMIS||

"No, I can read minds" He teased. Fucking Bitch.

Mateo was sprawled across my bed like he owned it, his shoes on my white sheets. The sight made my blood boil. Great, now I'd have to wash them before I could sleep.

I rolled my eyes and stepped into the room, feeling the weight of his stare. It was like his gaze had a physical presence, following me as I walked across the room.

I set my phone and keys on the nightstand, trying to ignore him, but it was hard. Every inch of me was aware of how close he was, of how easy it would be for him to pull me into whatever chaos he was brewing.

I tried to shake it off and removed my shoes, moving slowly, like it would make him leave my bed. Maybe if I didn't react, he'd finally get the hint. But who was I kidding?

I shot him a glare. "Dude, get off my bed."

He looked at me from under his lashes, a smirk tugging at his lips. Those hazel eyes—God, they were like a trap, pulling me in without me realizing it. No. Don't let him get to you.

"No," he said, voice low and casual, as if this was a normal conversation.

My eyebrow twitched. "No?"

He shrugged, then leaned back, getting even more comfortable. His arms stretched behind his head, and I felt my annoyance flare. What the hell was he doing?

I was done. Done with his attitude. Done with him acting like he was invincible.

"You don't have a right to be on my bed." My voice was sharper now, the frustration breaking through.

A lazy smirk slid across his face. "And yet, here I am." He glanced at me, clearly not threatened, before running a hand through his hair.

I felt a little heat rising in my chest. Why did he always have to be so confident? Like everything he did was intentional, like he knew exactly how much it bothered me and didn't care.

I huffed, walking over to the drawer of my nightstand and pulling out a pair of pajamas—a big white shirt and black shorts. I kept my back to him, but I could feel his eyes on me, heavy and insistent.

I slammed the drawer shut with more force than necessary, then turned to head for the bathroom, but not before catching him staring at my back. Of course. I knew he had that look in his eyes. Like he couldn't wait to say something, or maybe he was just waiting for me to do something.

I tried to ignore it, but I couldn't shake the feeling that his gaze was still burning into me.

I locked myself in the bathroom and took a deep breath, staring at myself in the mirror. My hair was a mess, and I could feel a pimple threatening to make its appearance. Great. I looked tired—no, I felt tired—and I hated how self-conscious it made me.

I splashed my face with cold water, trying to shake off the exhaustion, but the truth was—there was so much going on inside my head. Family drama, school, life... everything was so damn overwhelming lately. I didn't know how I was supposed to juggle it all. And Mateo? He was just another complication I didn't need.

I brushed my teeth quickly, then applied a thick layer of Vaseline to my lips. I needed something to soothe the dryness. I stared at my reflection one last time, forcing a smile—just to see if I could fake my way through the next day. But all I could see was someone tired, someone who didn't know how to handle all of this anymore.

I stepped out of the bathroom, fully prepared to act like Mateo wasn't in my bed. I'd pretend to be indifferent. Maybe that'll get him to leave.

But when I looked up, there he was again—still in my bed. He was watching me with those damn hazel eyes. His hair was damp, like he'd just gotten out of the shower just before I arrived. His t-shirt clung to his chest, and his posture was too casual, too confident.

I paused in the doorway, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flustered. "You're still here," I said, trying to sound unaffected, but failing miserably.

"Yep." He stretched his arms behind his head, clearly making himself at home. "You gonna do something about it?"

I bit my lip, fighting the urge to tell him off. "I'm just gonna sleep," I said, walking toward him. "You can stay there for all I care."

"Hmm, but you care," he said smoothly, his eyes never leaving me.

I ignored him and climbed into my bed, pulling the covers up around me as if it would shield me from the storm he was brewing. But I couldn't ignore the way his eyes followed every move I made. He was still watching me, like I was some kind of puzzle he was trying to solve.

"You know, you're not gonna get rid of me that easily," he said, his voice low, teasing. It was like he was enjoying every second of this, like my discomfort was his favorite thing in the world.

I didn't know how to respond, so I didn't. I turned my back on him, pretending to fall asleep. But the truth was, my heart was racing, and I couldn't stop thinking about how he made me feel. It was a kind of tension I couldn't quite explain, a feeling I didn't know how to get rid of.

A beat passed. Then two.

And then, I heard him speak again.

"I see you're not asleep yet."

I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the sound of my breath to drown out his voice. "Go to sleep, Mateo."

"You sure you don't want to talk?" His voice was soft, almost like a challenge.

I let out a frustrated sigh. "Why are you so stubborn?"

"Why are you so... resistant?" he shot back, the words dripping with a playful confidence.

"I'm not 'resistant.' I'm just not interested," I said, my voice coming out stronger than I meant it to. I didn't even believe the words as they left my mouth. But I had to say something.

There was a pause before he responded. "Liar."

I didn't say anything, even though my heart was hammering in my chest. Why did everything with him feel like a game I was constantly losing?

He let out a low chuckle, the kind that made the hairs on my neck stand up. "You know, one of these days, you're gonna have to admit that you're just as interested as I am."

"Not gonna happen," I muttered, even though my pulse betrayed me. I could hear the grin in his voice.

"Fine. Keep pretending," he said with mock sympathy, but there was something in his tone that made it clear he wasn't fooled.

I curled deeper into my blanket, my thoughts tangled with a mess of emotions I didn't know how to sort out. I hated how much he got to me.

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