Obsessed With You

chapter 21

Mattia

I stormed out of that damn party, shoving the door open so hard I thought it'd fly off the hinges. My fists clenched so tight, I swear I could feel my knuckles crack. I didn't care. I couldn't care. Jack, that asshole, kissed Sophia right in front of me. A fucking minute ago. The image was burned into my brain-him leaning in, all cocky, and her just standing there. But I wasn't mad at her. No. That bullshit was all on him.

My hands ran through my hair, tugging at the roots. Goddammit. I needed to calm down, but the anger just kept crawling under my skin like fire.

Ping. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I yanked it out, expecting it to be something important, but no, it was Gigi. Jesus. She'd sent a picture-her in this skimpy, silky nightgown, sitting on her bed in a way she clearly thought was sexy. Her legs crossed just right, back arched, like she was posing for a damn magazine cover.

"Don't you miss me?"

I rolled my eyes so hard they might've stayed stuck at the back of my head. Fuck off. I wasn't in the mood for this shit. I texted her back, fingers punching the screen harder than necessary.

"Gigi, I'm really not in the fucking mood right now."

But of course, that wasn't enough. Not for her. She started blowing up my phone, calling again and again. Uhhh, shut the fuck up, Gigi. My grip on the phone tightened, ready to throw it across the street.

Then I heard footsteps. I looked up, and there she was-Sophia. Coming out of the party, her eyes locking on me.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, her voice soft but unsure.

I scoffed, letting out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, can't you see?" I said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Fuck, this night was a total mess.

"Mattia, it's not my fault!" Sophia exclaimed, frustration etched across her face. "I told Jack off. I cut things off with him. I swear I didn't want any of this!"

I looked at her, feeling the tension swirl between us. "Sophia, I'm not blaming you," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "I have no right to ask for explanations."

Before she could reply, my phone blared again-Gigi, relentless as ever. I stepped back from Sophia, holding the phone up to my ear. "Yeah, Gigi?"

"There's a huge problem. You need to come now!" she insisted, urgency dripping from her words.

"Gigi, my head is pounding. I can't come right now. Handle your own bullshit," I snapped, the annoyance creeping back.

"Mattia, please! We've been friends for seven years! I've always been there for you. Don't be such a jerk," she pleaded, her tone shifting to something more desperate.

I felt the boredom and irritation mix inside me. "Fine, Sophia, fine. Shut the fuck up, I'll come!" I said, frustration boiling over.

I ended the call, turning back to find Sophia glaring at me, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her eyes narrowed.

"Alright, Sophia, I'll take you home," I said, revving the engine of the motorcycle. She hopped on behind me, and we rode in silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

The ride felt like an eternity, the world blurring past us while we both lost in our thoughts. It was the kind of silence that felt heavy, like we were both waiting for the other to say something but didn't know where to start.

When we finally reached her house, she climbed off the bike, and I stayed put, feeling like I didn't want to move.

"Aren't you coming in?" she asked, looking back at me, her brow furrowed with confusion.