Obsessed With You

chapter 25

Mattia_the kiss

I stepped out of the locker room, only to spot Sophia standing with some random guy-tall, brown-eyed, pale skin. She looked at him and said, "Mike, this is Mattia, my friend." Friend. The word hit me like a punch to the gut. That's all I was to her?

Mike extended his hand to me, and I forced myself to shake it, trying to keep the fake smile plastered on my face.

Then Mike turned back to Sophia, all casual, "Hey, can I get your number?"

Sophia, with that innocent smile of hers, nodded. "Sure, of course."

What the fuck? Seriously? I couldn't just stand there like a fucking ghost watching him hit on her. As she took his phone and started typing, I could feel my blood boiling.

Who the hell is this son of a bitch?

Without thinking, I moved in, grabbed Sophia's hand, and pulled her with me. "Sorry, man, but I need her help with something," I said, my voice tight with frustration. "I'm injured, as you can see." I didn't even wait for a response. I dragged her into the locker room, slamming the door shut behind us.

Sophia looked up at me, wide-eyed, and I just stood there, breathing hard, trying to keep my cool.

We stormed into the locker room, and the second I let go of her hand, Sophia turned on me, her eyes blazing. "Why the fuck are you doing this, Mattia? What's with this bullshit?" Her voice was sharp, almost shaking with anger.

I didn't say a word. Just stood there, staring at her.

That only pissed her off more. She slammed her fist against my shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but I winced anyway, pretending it was worse than it actually was, clutching my side. Goddammit, the fake pain made her eyes widen for a second.

"Are you okay?" she asked, a little panic slipping into her voice.

I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Her face darkened, and she crossed her arms. "Are you fucking kidding me? You're really gonna use that stupid ass injury just to get me to check on you every five minutes?"

I put my hands up, trying to calm her down. "No, no. But I really need you to help me take off this shirt. I can't do it on my own."

She raised an eyebrow, glaring at me like I was the biggest idiot in the world. "The injury's on your head, not your arms, Mattia."

"I know," I admitted, "but when I try to take off my shirt, I keep hitting the damn thing, and it hurts like a bitch. I've tried, trust me, but it's not working. And, as you know, the wound-"

"Shut the fuck up," she cut me off, rolling her eyes. "Fine, I'll help you."

Sophia's fingers brushed lightly against my skin as she reached for the hem of my shirt. Her touch was unexpectedly warm, and I felt every inch of it as she slowly lifted the fabric. The moment she pulled it up, I became hyper-aware of the fact that I was exposed, every inch of skin revealed as the shirt slid higher. I felt her breath on my neck for a second before she yanked it over my head, leaving me standing there with just my jeans.

Her eyes flickered up at me, a mix of annoyance and something I couldn't quite read. She didn't even flinch, just pulled the shirt off like it was no big deal.

For a moment, I was left there, bare-chested and feeling exposed-both physically and emotionally. She seemed unaffected, like she didn't care about the tension in the room or my discomfort. It was as if she was just... doing what she had to do.

She dropped the shirt onto the bench and took a step back. "Done," she said, her voice cool, but there was a sharp edge to it.

Sophia tried to slip past me, but before she could even reach the door, I grabbed her arm and shoved her back against the wall. Her back hit it with a thud, and I was so close I could feel her breath on me. "Wait," I murmured, my voice low. "Maybe I need more help."