twisted » á. morata & p. dybala

uno // dark night

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I pressed the call button on my sister's contact once again. I stood alone in the night, the cold breeze of Turin kept touching my face.

"Pick up, pick up," I muttered to myself, waiting for her to pick up.

"Isabella! Oh thank God, I was so worried about you," Valerie finally answered.

"Excuse me? I'm the one who's supposed to be worried. It's been an hour since you decided to leave me so you could buy a hot dog," I scoffed at the thought.

"I'm sorry, I lost you. I thought you already went home anyway," her apology didn't help my cause.

I groaned. "Where the hell are you then?"

"I'm back home. Where are you? Are you clubbing again?" She asked me back, and I freaked.

"What?! Valerie, I thought you were still somewhere around here. I'm all alone in the parking lot, still in the stadium, and it's dark and empty. If anything happens to me, it's all your fault," I shouted into my phone.

"Oh my God, Isabella. Shit, I'm so sorry. I'll come get you right now," she panicked too.

"You just had to take the car with you, didn't you?" I sighed in annoyance.

"Well, you're the one who decided to fail your driving test twice," she snapped back at me.

I groaned again. "Just get here quickly," I immediately hung up before she could bicker at me anymore.

The stadium's parking lot was really dark and empty. I was genuinely scared. Then, I heard a beep. A car being unlocked.

I saw a tall and muscular figure approach me, and I knew who it was even though it was dark. Ugh.

"Well well well, we meet again. Did you enjoy the match?" He asked.

"Fuck off, Morata," his presence gave me physical heart pain.

"Why are you always so rude to me? What's your problem?" I could tell he was also annoyed.

"You're the one who decided to spill coffee over my school assignment that I had been working on for three weeks!" I snapped.

"I said I was sorry," he seemed frustrated.

"Just fuck off, okay? Don't ever bother me again," I said to him.

He stared at me with a stern expression on his face for a good five seconds until one of his teammates ran up to us.

"Alvi, did you take my hoodie again?" his teammate asked.

"Nope," was all that Álvaro said in reply.

"Hi," his teammate greeted me awkwardly. "It's kind of late. Did you stick around for Álvaro?" he then added.

"Definitely not. My sister left me after the game, and I've been waiting for her here, when all this time it turns out that she already went home. I'm okay though," I said with a small smile.

"Well, Paulo can take you home," Álvaro said with a flat expression. Ah, Paulo. Paulo Dybala. I thought he was familiar.

"Yeah, I can. If you want me to," his teammate, Paulo, added.

"No, thank you. My sister's coming to get me," I said to Paulo. "And why do you care anyway?" I said bitterly to Álvaro, who scoffed at my question.

"I don't. But don't say I didn't try to help," he then turned his back on us and walked back towards his car.

"I know you. You're one of the Accardi girls, aren't you?" Paulo asked me, completely ignoring Álvaro's leaving.

I opened my mouth to answer, but Álvaro beat me to it. He shouted without even looking our direction. "Her name is Isabella!" Then he got into his car and drove away.

"Well, hi Isabella. Nice to meet you," Paulo offered me a small smile and I couldn't help but smile back.

"Nice to meet you too, Paulo."