The Space Between

Chapter 13: Unspoken tension

I made my way through the crowded hallway, the hum of chatter and the squeak of sneakers echoing around me. I felt unusually excited, and it wasn’t just because of the crisp fall morning—it was the thought of working on the literature project with Graham. As I stepped into the classroom, I spotted him near the front, already surrounded by a stack of books. Typical Graham, always prepared. I slid into the seat beside him, my heart picking up just a little as I set my things down.

“Hey, ready to tackle this?” I asked, pulling out my notebook. Graham smiled, nodding as he pushed his glasses up his nose. We quickly dove into the project, tossing around ideas and scribbling notes. The room was filled with the familiar buzz of students, the low hum of discussions blending with the soft shuffle of pages turning. I loved this atmosphere, the quiet thrill of piecing together ideas and making sense of stories.

Just as Graham was mid-sentence, I glanced up and saw Matteo walking into the classroom. He caught my eye almost instantly, his lips curling into a small, warm smile. I smiled back, trying to keep it casual, but there was that undeniable flutter in my chest. Marcus, who was sitting nearby, didn’t miss the exchange. I could feel his eyes flicking between Matteo and me, his brow arching just slightly. I quickly turned back to Graham, pretending I hadn’t noticed Marcus’s scrutiny.

Graham leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “So, how are things with you and Matteo? You two seemed kind of… distant last week.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” I said, brushing it off even though my cheeks warmed slightly. “We’re fine. Matteo’s just had a tough week, that’s all. He’s a good guy, you know? Resilient. He’ll bounce back.” I tried to keep my tone light, but I knew Graham was curious. When he pressed a little, asking if something had happened, I just shook my head. “Really, it’s all good. Let’s just focus on the project, okay?”

We spent the rest of the class discussing which novel to dive into, settling on one of those classic pieces that every lit student loves. By the time the professor wrapped up the lecture, we’d finalized our plan—who would handle which sections, how we’d tackle the analysis, the works. I felt a sense of accomplishment as I packed up my things, pleased with how smoothly it all went.

As I was about to leave, Matteo caught up with me by the door. “Hey, Sophia,” he said, his voice easy and familiar. “Think we could catch up over coffee at the café?”

I hesitated for a split second, but then I nodded. “Sure, why not?”

We walked over to the café, one we’d been to a few times before, where the smell of fresh coffee and pastries filled the air. Matteo ordered for us, and soon we were sitting at a small table near the window, steaming cups in front of us. It felt oddly normal, yet there was an undercurrent of something else, something that hadn’t been there before. As I took a sip of my coffee, I couldn’t help but wonder where this conversation might lead.

Matteo and I settled into our seats, the soft clinking of coffee cups and the murmur of quiet conversations around us. The café had a warm, familiar vibe, and for a moment, it felt like we were just two friends catching up, nothing more. But as we started talking, the conversation drifted back to the night in our dorm room, and I could see the tension flickering in Matteo’s eyes.

“Thanks for being there, Sophia,” Matteo said, his voice softer than usual. “It’s not easy for me to let people see that side of me.” He took a sip of his coffee, his gaze fixed on the table as if he was sorting through his thoughts. “But, uh… I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone. About what happened, I mean.”

I raised an eyebrow, curious. “Why, though? Why does it matter if people know?”

Matteo hesitated, his expression tightening slightly. “It’s not the breakup itself,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “It’s the fact that I cried. I don’t want everyone to see me as… I don’t know, weak or something.”

I couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, trying to keep it in but failing miserably. “So, let me get this straight,” I said, biting back a grin. “You’re worried about ruining your tough guy image?”

Matteo rolled his eyes, but there was a playful glint there. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he said, but then he started laughing too. It was that kind of laugh that starts small but then grows, filling the space between us until we were both laughing so hard that I almost spilled my coffee. It felt good, like a release, and for a moment, all the awkwardness from the other night seemed to melt away.

As our laughter died down, though, I couldn’t help but wonder why Matteo still seemed to be defending Bianca, even now. “You know, Matteo,” I started cautiously, swirling my coffee. “I get that you don’t want people to know, but… why are you still defending her? Do you still have feelings for Bianca?”

Matteo’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a more serious look. He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “It’s not about defending her,” he said, his voice dropping. “It’s just… complicated. Breaking up wasn’t easy, but it had to happen. I just don’t want everyone gossiping about it, especially when I’m still trying to figure it all out.”

I nodded, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it. “I mean, people are already talking,” I said, glancing around as if expecting someone to be eavesdropping. “The whole dorm room thing, you know? It’s out there. The girls are already buzzing about it.”

Matteo shrugged, his expression resigned. “Let them talk. I don’t care about the breakup rumors. It’s just… the crying part, you know?” He gave me a sheepish look. “I don’t want to be seen as… less, I guess.”

I tried to stifle another laugh, but Matteo’s honesty was disarming, and it made the whole situation feel less heavy. “You’re ridiculous,” I said, shaking my head. “But I get it. You’re still the tough guy, even when you’re not.”

We shared another laugh, one that felt lighter, and I could see some of the tension lift off Matteo’s shoulders. But just as the conversation started to ease, the familiar jingle of the café doorbell rang, and my eyes instinctively darted towards the entrance. My heart sank a little when I saw who walked in—Bianca. She paused at the doorway, her eyes scanning the room, and I could feel Matteo stiffen beside me.

The light mood from moments before evaporated as Bianca spotted us, her expression unreadable. I could feel the unspoken tension building again, and I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next.

Bianca turned on her heel, but not before throwing me a smirk—a cold, calculating look that sent a chill down my spine. It wasn’t just anger; it was the kind of smile that made it clear she was already planning her next move. As she pushed the door open and exited the café, her smug expression lingered in my mind, leaving me uneasy.

I watched her walk away, the feeling of dread settling in. Something was off, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what. It was like a storm cloud had passed through, leaving the air heavy and charged. Matteo looked at me, his face a mix of frustration and apology, but I couldn’t shake the sensation that Bianca’s exit was just the beginning of something.