VALENTINA

"I look up and the whole room's spinning. You take my cares away. I can so over-complicate, people tell me to medicate."

. . .

The following week, I'm walking on campus with Sylvia and Jane next to me.

"Philosophy is getting on my nerves," Jane sighs, blowing away some of her blonde bangs.

"Yeah, I don't like white men sharing their thoughts, either," Sylvia agrees.

"There's way more to philosophy," I chime in. "It's not only white men. If you look further beyond the West, there are philosophers in all cultures. Women philosophers, too."

"Okay, smartass," Sylvia chuckles.

"What's your next class?" Jane asks me.

"I got two hours till I need to head to Statistics," I groan because I hate that class.

"Lucky. We've got class in like fifteen minutes," Sylvia sighs.

"I think Steve has class with you two," I tell them.

"As if he'll sit with us if you're not there," Sylvia scoffs.

"He would!" I defend him. "He's really nice."

"To you," she continues. I narrow my eyes at her.

"Just give him a chance. He's really sweet."

"Who's sweet?"

I turn around at the voice, and I get breathless in an instant when I see Alessandro approaching us.

He's wearing a black hoodie that looks incredibly comfortable and looks amazing on him, even though it's just a hoodie. As always, he's sporting his leather jacket. I think he even sleeps with it.

Sylvia steps up next to me, tucking her hair behind her ear. She's still smitten over him because he flirted with her.

A nasty feeling settles in my throat at the memory.

But right now, Alessandro doesn't spare her a glance and keeps on looking at me.

"S-Steve," I answer, and he narrows his eyes.

"Is he, now?"

"He's only nice to Valentina," Sylvia says. "He doesn't talk to us."

"I see," Alessandro hums, looking down at me. He's so fucking tall, it's unfair.

"He does talk to you guys," I defend him, feeling myself getting riled up.

Sylvia takes another step toward Alessandro and is playing with the ends of her hair. She opens her mouth to say something, but he beats her to it.

"You have class?" he asks. And for a moment I think he's talking to Sylvia, but when I look at him, I see he's already looking at me.

"No, I don't," I answer, and he nods.

"Alright," he says and doesn't move from his spot. Only when I start walking again, does he, too, next to me.

I look over my shoulder at Sylvia and Jane, the latter who's grinning at me.

"We'll see you in class tomorrow," she says and drags Sylvia away to their next lecture.

"See you!" I call out and feel my hands getting sweaty at the fact that Alessandro is casually walking next to me.

I look up at him. I open my mouth to say something. Then close it again. Then I repeat the action all over again.

He smiles. "What?"

"You're walking with me," I state the obvious.

He tilts his head to the side. "It appears I am."

"Why?"

"To annoy you."

I can't fight back a smile. "To annoy me, huh?"

"Yeah," he smirks and lets his eyes drop down my body before looking at my face again.

I shift on my spot, suddenly feeling awkward.

Is he... flirting with me?

"Well, I don't know your schedule for today, but if you're hellbent on annoying me you're going to have to follow me off-campus. I'm getting a coffee."

"So do I, what a coincidence," he grins, and follows me as I walk my way off campus.

"Are these the kinds of things you and Dante do all the time?" he asks as we're walking.

"Uh, yeah?" I chuckle, wondering where that question comes from.

"Huh," he says but doesn't add anything else.

"What did you think? That we run off and do secret stuff that no one gets to know about?"

"Well, yeah," he admits sheepishly. I shake my head with a grin.

"No, we do regular stuff like regular humans. I don't want to know where your fantasy takes you and what your mind makes up."

"You don't," he mumbles.

My hands fall to his hands, and I notice the lack of fresh bruises he has.

"You don't go to the boxing ring anymore?" I ask, and he shakes his head.

"No. I haven't felt the need, lately. I don't miss the feeling like I usually do."

"That's good," I encourage. "Hurting yourself isn't the way you should seek comfort. There's healthier ways."

"Such as?"

"A therapist."

He hums but doesn't comment anything on it.

Somewhere down the street, a colliding of two cars happens and the sound of it reaches us all the way.

The crunch of metal has cold sweat breaking out on my skin and my muscles tense up.

Immediately, a whole bunch of people swarm around the cars to check up on the people inside.

"They're okay," Alessandro tells me, his voice sounding far off and distant. "It was a brief collision with not any real damage. I saw it happen."

I don't respond. I can't respond.

Telling myself to get a grip, I try to breathe in and out regularly but the sound of the crash keeps on repeating in my head.

"You're here," Alessandro whispers, grasping my shoulders and looking into my eyes. "You're okay. What happened with your Dad happened years ago. You're alive, he's alive. You're here, with me. Come back to me."

"I'm here," I repeat, blinking rapidly and fighting to catch my breath.

"That's right. Right here. Nothing has happened. I'm sure no one is hurt, hear me?"

I nod vaguely.

"But the driver..." I whisper. "He died."

"Years ago, Valentina. It happened years ago. He was drunk. He drove into your car. It wasn't your or your Dad's fault."

"I'm here," I whisper and close my eyes. "I'm safe. Dad..."

He's not here.

I open my eyes again and blink a few times, wanting to get rid of the heavy feeling on my chest.

"I'm sorry," I bring out and ignore the burning feeling in my eyes.

"Don't apologize," he says and cups my cheeks. "It's not your fault. None of it is."

"Okay," I nod. Alessandro takes my hand and leads me to a nearby coffee shop where we enter.

"Take a seat here," he says and leads me to a table in a corner. "I'll be back."

I do as he says and sit there, fidgeting with my hands in my lap. I hate how I reacted earlier. It was a crash, nothing bad happened and it wasn't fatal or anything.

Yet, I went back to being a useless human being who can't function.

It was a minor panic attack.

It's a normal reaction as a trauma response.

Find the problem. Acknowledge it. Make peace with it.

After a few minutes, Alessandro returns to the table with a glass filled with water and ice, and two cups of coffee.

"I figured you'd like some water," he says and slides the glass over toward me.

I thank him and take a sip, the cold being welcome.

"Want me to pay you back?"

"Come on," he scoffs and sends me a serious glare. "Shut up. I'm not like that."

"Just making sure. I don't like to assume things," I shrug.

"It's on me," he assures. "It always is."

I look at him, I wonder how we got here, in this position.

Together like this, while a few months ago, we would've done our very best to steer clear of one another.

"Why are you being like this? It feels like we're in a parallel universe."

"Lately you feel like the only person who makes sense. Maybe you always have, and I was just blind to see it," he says.

"Maybe you were," I whisper.

What happened today with Alessandro is still playing on a loop in my head, and I can't shake the feeling of happiness it brought me.

We had our drinks in comfortable silence, then talked a bit about what kind of coffee was better and argued over that.

Then, he had to get to his next class.

"You only had thirty minutes of free time?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Why waste it on getting coffee all the way outside of campus?"

He smirked and said: "I wanted to annoy you."

Now, I'm lying in my bed, going through my social media and doing some mindless scrolling around, when my phone starts vibrating and an incoming call takes over my screen.

I giggle when I see who it is and pick up.

"Hello?"

"Hello," Alessandro echoes. "You called me again."

"We're back at this?" I scoff and shake my head. "You called me. You did."

"But I didn't," he argues. "My phone went off and I picked up. If you wanna talk to me, just say so."

"It's the other way around," I retort. "You want to talk to me."

"Uhu," he chuckles. "Right. Anyway, what are you doing?"

"Just on social media," I answer, smiling at my ceiling. "What are you doing?"

"Stalking someone," he murmurs.

I pause at that. 

"A particular someone?" I ask, and he hums.

"Yeah," he trails off.

"A she?" I continue to ask.

"Yeah," he answers, amusement in his voice.

"Why?"

"Because of interest."

I press my lips together and ignore the sadness seeping in. I don't care about who he's interested in.

No matter how he's been behaving toward me lately.

"Okay..." I sigh. "Is she... someone that could be your type? Is that why you're stalking her?"

"You could say that," he answers, still amused. "What is your type, hm?"

"M-My type?" I stutter and clear my throat. "I don't care what they look like, really. As long as there's a good vibe."

"A good vibe," he repeats.

"Well, yeah."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"I don't know. I just like someone I can have a good conversation with. Someone who's intelligent and respects me."

"Intelligent? Like saying fun facts and stuff."

"Kind of like that, yeah," I chuckle.

"Hmm, let me get my facts list, then."

I bite my lip to contain my smile. "What's your type?"

"My type..." he begins with a sigh. "I like someone feisty. Who can talk back to me. Someone who's down to do anything at any time and agrees with my crazy ideas."

"Crazy ideas?" I question.

"Yeah. And who likes to bang in public."

"I-In public?" I stammer out and blush.

"Yes, Valentina," he muses. "What do you think about that, hm?"

"I... yeah– I get the appeal," I bring out and clear my throat.

I try to rid my mind of dirty fantasies which mainly involve Alessandro. And me. In public.

To ease the tension a bit, I ask: "What else do you like?"

"Eyes," he answers. "I like eyes."

His answers are making me think, and suddenly I envy every girl that might have crossed Alessandro's radar.

It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Did... Amber have all those qualities?" I ask softly and hate myself for saying it out loud in the first place.

But I have to know. It's killing me. Knowing that he's been with her for so long. That she had him.

"Amber?" he asks, surprised by the mention of her.

"Yeah," I say meekly, my voice small. 

"I don't know," he sighs. "I was so young when I got with her. I don't know, I guess I stopped seeing all of her features and just saw her as... Amber."

"Did you... like her?"

He stays quiet for a moment.

"I don't... I don't know."

"Then why were you with her for so long?"

"Because I don't like being alone. Never have. She's all I've known for so long so it felt safe to fall back on what was familiar, which is fucked up but I couldn't help myself."

I swallow and worry my bottom lip, hesitating on the burning question that's on the tip of my tongue.

I don't want to ruin whatever good vibe we had going on, but not knowing is killing me. The fact that she was his girlfriend is killing me.

"Did you ever love her?"

He sighs, and I'm afraid that I ruined this thing between us. But he doesn't hang up, nor does he snap at me.

He answers.

"I thought I did. She... has done things for me no one ever has before and that is what drew me to her in the first place. I thought it was love but it just felt nice to be seen, for once. That is why I stayed with her. I never forgot about that. But looking back, I don't think there was ever real love between us. Just... familiarity."

But it was me who saw you. Who still sees you.

After all this time, it shouldn't hurt this much. But it does.

It still stings. It still feels like a knife to my heart.

"I see," I whisper, and sadness falls over me like a blanket. "Do you ever think you'll return to that familiarity?"

"Fuck no." His answer is immediate. "First of all, she cheated on me. There's no coming back from that. Second of all, it made me realize that I didn't appreciate her the way a boyfriend should. I didn't like being with her."

Those words, however cruel it may be of me, are like a balm being soothed over a throbbing wound. 

"Not that great boyfriend material, huh?" I tease, trying to make the situation lighter.

"She wasn't a great girlfriend, either," he mutters. "We were toxic. It ended, and I'm happy it did."

"Good," I hum, and my eyes widen when I realize what I just said. "Good that you removed quit that bad habit, I mean," I add hastily.

"I know what you meant," he says. It feels like he's onto me, but he doesn't make any further comments on it.

"Was there ever a boyfriend for you, then?" he asks. "Someone no one knows about?"

"No boyfriend," I sigh. "Though I've been in love."

"In love?" he repeats.

"Yep."

"With whom?"

I smile at the question and his obliviousness.

"It doesn't matter," I wave it off. "Didn't end well."

"How did it end, then?"

"With my heart broken," I evade, not wanting to disclose more details. "He wasn't it for me. Case of wrong time, I guess."

"Too bad," he says and lets out a little yawn.

"My voice putting you to sleep again?"

He chuckles. "Nah, I'm not that tired. Your voice, on the other hand, is seductive. You doing it on purpose?"

"What?" I gasp, caught off-guard by what he had just said. "My voice is not seductive," I laugh. I turn around on my bed, getting into a more comfortable position.

"You say your voice is not seductive and yet you just fucking moaned."

"I didn't moan!" I exclaim. "I just turned in bed. I let out a noise."

"A moan."

I roll my eyes. "Whatever. It wasn't a moan."

"Sure," he concedes, not sounding convinced.

"I don't moan," I repeat, wanting him to know it. "On purpose," I add.

"Yeah, crybaby. Whatever you say."

Laying my head on my pillow, I put my phone next to it and listen to his breathing.

"You falling asleep?" he asks after some time has passed. I hum, my eyes closed and my mind slowly drifting off.

"Goodnight, crybaby."

. . .

I'm sorry if there are any grammar mistakes. 

I wrote this chapter quickly today.

Starting from tomorrow I'll be at some sort of camp for a little week and I don't think I'll be able to write there, sorry! 

I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless and thank you for reading.

I love you.