Bound to Us (Bound Duology Book#1)

Boundaries and Battles

Emma couldn't deny that Ilario was getting under her skin, but not in the way people seemed to think. Every glance, every smirk, every challenge—it was all just a reminder of how much she disliked him. His arrogance, his constant teasing, his smug confidence... it was like he was everywhere, always making her feel like the outsider. And the worst part? He seemed to enjoy every moment of it.

It didn't help that Ilario's friends—and some of her own, even Sofia—kept hinting that there was something between them. But Emma knew better. She wasn't falling for some boy who thought the world revolved around him. She'd come here to learn and start fresh, not to be toyed with by someone like Ilario.

One morning, as she hurried through the hall to history class, she rounded a corner and collided head-on with none other than Ilario. Her books spilled across the floor, scattering everywhere. She groaned, bending down to gather them before he could make a comment.

"Lost again, straniera?" he asked, crouching beside her. He held out a book, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips. "You really need to watch where you're going."

She snatched the book from him, glaring. "Or maybe you need to stop getting in my way."

He chuckled, unbothered by her anger. "You're in my school, in my city. So, technically, you're in my way."

"Maybe you don't own everything, Ilario," she snapped, shoving her books back into her bag. "Not everyone thinks you're the king of Florence."

"Oh?" His eyes sparkled with amusement. "Enlighten me, straniera. Who doesn't?"

She stood up, meeting his gaze without backing down. "Me," she said simply, crossing her arms.

For the first time, Ilario's smile faltered, and a flash of something unfamiliar crossed his face—annoyance, maybe even surprise. But he quickly recovered, standing up and shrugging as if it didn't matter. "Well, I'll give you points for guts," he said coolly. "But good luck making it through the year without me."

"Trust me, I'm not counting on your help," she retorted, brushing past him.

But even as she left him behind, she couldn't shake the irritation buzzing inside her. He always knew exactly how to get under her skin, always seemed to have the last word. She vowed then and there not to let him see how much he bothered her, to keep her head high and show him that she wasn't someone he could just push around.

Their silent battle continued in the classroom, too. Every time she raised her hand, Ilario would raise his, trying to answer first or, worse, correct her in that infuriatingly smooth voice of his. In gym, he'd laugh when she tripped during drills or tease her relentlessly if she missed a pass. And during art class, if she so much as looked uncertain, he'd stroll over with a little shake of his head, just loud enough for her to hear.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" he asked one day, looking over her shoulder as she tried to paint the scenery from a picture she'd taken in the countryside.

She clenched her jaw, determined not to let him see how frustrated she was. "Yes, I am, thank you. Now, if you could just go away?"

He raised his eyebrows, looking almost impressed. "You're awfully defensive, you know."

"Only when someone's making it their full-time job to get in my way," she muttered, her brush moving in angry strokes across the canvas.

He leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a mocking whisper. "Then maybe you should try harder not to let me bother you."

It took every ounce of restraint not to splash her paint water on him. Instead, she set her brush down carefully and turned to face him, meeting his gaze with unwavering defiance. "You may think you're the best at everything, but you can't ruin this for me."

For a moment, Ilario's expression softened—barely, but enough for her to notice. He studied her quietly, as if seeing something different for the first time. But just as quickly, his mask of indifference returned, and he shrugged, brushing her off as he always did.

"I'm not trying to ruin anything," he said, straightening up. "I'm just making sure you don't forget where you are."

"Believe me, I know where I am," she replied coldly. "And I know exactly who you are too, Ilario."

With that, she turned back to her painting, refusing to look at him again. She heard him huff and walk away, but even as he left, she could still feel his presence lingering like a shadow.

After that, Emma resolved to keep her distance. She kept to her own group, focusing on her studies and her own friends. But no matter where she went, Ilario seemed to be there, watching her with that same smug look, that same confidence that made her blood boil. She told herself she wouldn't let him get to her, wouldn't let him ruin this new life she was trying to build. But with every glance he threw her way, she could feel their rivalry deepening, turning into something that neither of them could quite define.

And in the quiet moments when she was alone, she almost wondered if Ilario could feel it too. 

guys tell me if im going fast idk hope ur liking it tho

Bisou,