𝗠𝗘𝗗𝗗𝗟𝗘 𝗔𝗕𝗢𝗨𝗧
❝ We only met each other just the other day
But you already got me feeling some type of way
Now, if I could figure it out
I'd take you back to my house
So we could meddle about ❞
𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛 The dynamic love triangle betw...
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𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝖧𝖤𝖢𝖳𝖮𝖱
AFTER THE WHOLE talk with Marc and Bernal, I've been keeping to myself. My friends obviously didn't take it well. Bernal told me not to talk to Sofia, so I didn't.
I stayed in my corner, scrolling through my phone, avoiding everyone.
A few minutes later, I found myself in the kitchen, arguing with Marc. I'll admit, it was my fault, but honestly, I don't care.
It's been a few days since that kitchen blow-up. Everyone saw it, and they were confused. Katie thought it was about a game. Meanwhile, Bernal looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
After that, I decided to leave. Fighting my best friend over a girl? A girl I barely know? Not worth it.
I haven't spoken to Marc since. I don't want to, and clearly, he feels the same way.
All I can say is: fuck him.
It's obvious he's into Sofia, but I couldn't care less.
No... never mind. I care.
The worst part? I hate admitting it. Admitting that Sofia has been in my head more than she should be. That every time I tell myself to move on, I just end up thinking about her even more.
I barely know her, but it feels like she's everywhere. In my head. In conversations. Even in arguments I never planned on having.
Marc knows it too. That's why we fought. He didn't say it outright, but I saw it in the way he looked at me. Like he knew I was full of shit, pretending I didn't care when it was obvious that I did.
And now, everything's a mess. Marc's pissed. Bernal's caught in the middle. And Sofia? She's probably oblivious to all of it. Or maybe she isn't.
I don't know how Lamine would feel about this whole situation being about Sofia. Part of me thinks he'd laugh it off, but another part knows it might complicate everything. I'm not surprised Bernal didn't go ahead and tell him, though. I'm glad he didn't. The last thing I need is more people weighing in on something I barely understand myself.
The argument in the kitchen was the final straw. The tension, the yelling, the way Marc looked at me—it was too much. I couldn't stay there anymore. So, I left. No dramatic exits or parting shots, just me grabbing my stuff and walking out the door.
I needed space, and maybe, just maybe, Marc did too.
I sat on the pitch, stretching with my AirPods in. Not listening to music—they were just in so people wouldn't bother me.
I was definitely not in the mood. The worst part? I could still hear Pau and Alejandro laughing at whatever joke they were cracking, and it only irritated me more. Meanwhile, Lamine sat nearby, glued to his phone, clearly stressing about something.
