Shortcomings | Alejandro Rosario

Chapter 2: Brown eyes

I was hit with the buzzing air of students trying to get home as I stepped out into the hallway, contrasting the soft atmosphere back in the art room.

Alejandro's voice still echoed in my head as I walked along, and he was right. I didnt have a chance with Mattia. I mean who the hell was I kidding?

Mattia was the star of the school. He was handsome, funny, he had an air of elegance he carried everywhere around with him. It wasn't a bad time when Mattia was around.

I felt my phone buzz in my back pocket, the feeling breaking me out of my thoughts. Pulling it out, I unlocked it, smiling at the lockscreen.

It was a picture of Ale and I after his soccer game, his arm was around me as we posed and smiled. It was the day he had scored the winning goal for the team, I remember running up to him, hugging him, the light in his eyes was the happiest I had ever seen him.

The text on the screen was what distracted me from the happy memory.

Mattia Polibio: Hey
Mattia Polibio: Are you free?

What. My heart dropped. I could feel in in my throat, racing, as my mind swirled with thoughts. Was I reading this correctly? Was this happening?

At first, I read it as a joke. There was no way. It must've been Ale fucking with me after what happened in the art room, but, Ale didn't have enough will, energy or brain power to do something like this.

No, no. This was Mattia. I just had to believe that the world was treating me right for once.

You: Yeah I'm free, why?
Mattia Polibio is typing...
Mattia Polibio: Meet with me.
Mattia Polibio: I need to talk to you.

Talk to me? What could Mattia possibly want to talk to me about?

You: Sure? Where do you wanna meet?"

A minute had passed by without an answer. Maybe he realized he ended up texting the wrong person? That probably was what happened anyways.

Tucking my phone back into my pocket, I realised I walked too far, passing my locker. I was now standing in front of the janitor's closet, my hands clutching my bag straps.

Suddenly, I felt a hand grab my arm. The strong grip pulled me into the dimly lit, tiny room. My back hit the wall as some brooms clattered, and I came face to face with a pair of twinkling brown eyes.

"What the fuck?" Mattia's low voice sounded in my ear. All of a sudden my current situation became all too real to me. I was trapped in this tiny closet with Mattia Polibio.

His face was close to mine, inches away. I could make out his features in the soft, ambient lighting, his lips pursed, tongue running over them ever so often. His knee was wedged between my legs, one hand on the wall, one by my waist.

I could feel his warmth radiating off of him, as I clenched my jaw, trying to calm down.

"You're not Isabella." He spoke, scrunching an eyebrow. He pulled away, but couldn't go too far much to his dismay.

I furrowed my eyebrows, blinking. "I'm Isabella alright. Although no one really calls me tha-"

"Isabella Ackermann?" His deep, soothing voice cut me off.

"Cosentino."

"Fuck" He muttered, shaking his hair out.

I soon realized what he was talking about. "Of course," I scoffed, letting out a sarcastic chuckled. "I'm not the Isabella you wanted."

"Obviously not. Although, you're not all that bad looking." He replied, smirking.

"Yeah. Okay. I really should go. Sorry for disappointing you Polibio." I murmured, heading for the door. He lifted his leg, slamming his hand on the wall, blocking my way.

"Where do you think you're going?"