Swallow your pride 2

Quidditch match

Isadora's PoV

Isidora stood in the now empty classroom, her body still flushed and her heart pounding. The echo of Marcus's footsteps faded away, but she could still feel his presence, the heat of his touch, the fire of his passion.
His words echoed in her mind, his plea for her complete devotion to him, his vow to wait for her. She leaned against the desk, her body still shaking, her mind still reeling from the intensity of their encounter.

A battle was waging in her heart, between her desire for Aurelius and her growing feelings for Marcus.

She closed her eyes, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions crashing through her. Aurelius was the forbidden love, the dangerous fire that she couldn't resist. But Marcus was the steady, comforting presence, the steadfast love and support that she craved.

Marcus's words repeated in her mind like a mantra—he wanted all of her. But how could she give him that when her heart was so torn? How was she supposed to give herself completely to Marcus, when Aurelius still had a claim on her heart?

*****

The following days, during classes, Isadora found her eyes drawn to Marcus, her mind filled with thoughts of him as she barely listened to the lectures. She sought his presence and started going to Quidditch matches, watching him play. She saw how many girls were shouting his name from the stands and trying to get his attention. Nevertheless, it seemed that his attention belonged only to her. Every time Marcus flew by close to her during a game, it sent a rush of adrenaline through her. Knowing that he was looking at her, showing her attention and acknowledgment, in front of so many people stirred something deep within her.
She tried to focus on the match, but her eyes kept seeking him out, following him as he soared through the air, the power and grace in his every move.

Her heart would flutter with each look he gave her during the game, each time he seemed to fly just a little closer to her end of the pitch, each time he would score a point and look up to see if she was watching.
She was aware of the other girls around her, their envious or annoyed looks, their whispered comments. They wanted his attention, his touch, his love, and she understood why.
He was everything a girl could want, strong, talented, handsome, and completely devoted to her. But her heart was still torn, still in the clutches of Aurelius.

The question of her feelings for Marcus continued to weigh heavily on her mind, even outside of the games. She found herself watching him during dinners, while he was in the Great Hall with other guys. The way he smiled, the way he laughed, the way he interacted with others, it was all a constant reminder of his many endearing qualities. But, as much as her heart would skip a beat at the sight of him, her thoughts would always inevitably drift back to Aurelius. She couldn't escape the pull he had on her, the dangerous allure that continued to torment her.

There were moments when she could almost convince herself that she could love Marcus, that she could be happy with him. It usually happened when he was directly in front of her, his eyes fixed on hers, his voice steady and sincere. Those moments always made her heart skip a beat, her breath hitch, her mind fill with promise. And yet, it was also in these moments that the image of Aurelius would intrude in her mind, the memory of his touch, his smile, his voice, and all her determination to give Marcus a chance would falter.

Isidora found herself observing Aurelius, too. It was as if her eyes were drawn to him without her willing it, like a moth to a flame. She watched him during meals, during classes, walking through the corridors.
His presence triggered a flurry of confusing emotions within her—a mix of desire, shame, and an undecipherable deep connection.

Aurelius's irritation and annoyance whenever he looked at Isidora didn't go unnoticed. He certainly didn't miss the exchange between her and Marcus. It was written all over his face, the clenched jaw, the darkened eyes, the slight downturn of his lips. The air between them crackled with tension, their paths crossing in the corridors, dining hall, and classes.