Devotion

thirteen ﾒ columbia man

LUCA

"I don't need to make you not call me Barbie; saying no is enough," she says, crossing her arms. "And I don't look close to what a Barbie looks like. They're usually blonde, blue-eyed, and hourglass. Leilani's more of a Barbie than I am."

Angelica doesn't have to be outwardly insecure to show who she truly is. Academic rival or not, she's a beautiful girl. Kinda heartbreaking how she doesn't think she fits the standard of a Barbie. She may not be blonde or fair-skinned, but she's still one of them.

"If you say so." I'd rather not argue. She doesn't want to talk, so we don't have to. "But your opinion is subjective, not objective. Beauty is what you think." I shrug, fishing my hands down the pockets of my sweatpants.

Then, I noticed something off about her appearance. While on the subject, she had looked like she was crying before I mysteriously showed up at her house with no warning. Angelica's eyes are visibly bloodshot; under them, they are puffy. And her mouth is twitching into a frown.

Or she just has a sad, resting face, but either way, the thought alone is concerning. "What's wrong?" I ask, giving her no time to recuperate from the previous conversation. I need to know why she was crying.

She looks away from my eyes and in the direction of the pinked-out bed. "It doesn't matter, okay? It's not why you came over. You came over for the capstone project to try and get an idea of what we're doing. So, please, leave it alone," she whispers.

I nod. Taking note of that as well. Very defensive when you bring up a vulnerable issue. Angelica's sensitive to emotional issues and tends to steer away from her problems instead of facing them head-on because she'd rather push through the ache than continue to sulk. My head is too busy wrapping around the fact that the girl who takes no time to cuss me out is crying. Not judging, though. We all have our weak points.

So, it'd just be foul if I were to point out her character traits.

Then, I remembered we were going to be stuck on a partnered project until the beginning of the second semester. Which, by the way, is not that far but also very far. I'd rather she be able to at least be comfortable talking about it. So, no, I don't fucking let it go.

But I'm not great at comforting. For God's sake, I'm a mob co-leader and an heir to my father's position. I barely know how to comfort myself.

Here goes nothing. Taking a deep breath, I grab a hold of her wrist and pull her a little closer. Until her body is cradled in my arms. And this feels weird as hell. She doesn't fight my arms; she just settles her head on my chest.

The silence is deafening, and it's killing me. I don't know what to say. My heart's beating fast, and for the first time, I'm nervous about a girl. Mostly, the fact that I'm trying to comfort a rival is beyond me. If anyone from any of our families found out about this, I'd be dead meat.

Like Angelica had said earlier, not even a minute later, Angelica's voice booms in an annoyed tone. "What the hell are you doing? Do boundaries not exist on Earth no more?"

"Actions speak louder than words," I say. "You're not even attempting to move away, so you must like it when a guy hugs you."

She scoffs. "Absolutely, absurd. I don't need a man's attention to feel better. Thank you very much. It happens that your touch is helping me. So shut up." But a deep rose blush arises on her brown cheeks.

"Says the one who's currently blushing," I argue back. She releases the hug and punches me quickly in the gut. "I'm not freaking blushing! I just happened to put a lot of blush on my face this morning."