girl punch [Isaac]

It was not the first time Isaac had pissed her off. In fact, it almost seemed to be one of his favorite sports. Generally, she let it roll off her shoulders and ignored it; it tended to be stupid enough that it didn't matter. This, however...this was entirely different. His sudden lashing out when she clearly was not the one in the wrong not only confused her, frightened her - it really, really infuriated her. How dare he tell her that she was acting like a child? Sophia Vittorno was many things, but she was sure as hell not a child. In fact, she felt as though she acted much older than he did ALL of the time; this little bitch fit of his was a prime example of that. And getting over it? Like, acting as though he had done nothing wrong? If there was one thing Soph did for everyone, it was holding them accountable, and Isaac was no different. She was absolutely seething as she marched from her dormitory, phone in hand, flatted feet strangely heavy against the cold stone floor of the halls. Something inside of her was much more than angry, but she wouldn't acknowledge it. What was that inkling in the back of her mind? Hurt?

No. No, it wasn't. She was an emotional Titanic, but she was not easily hurt. And Isaac hurting her? That would just be ridiculous. No one held that power over Sophia, no one but her father. Her heart refused to give that right to anyone else. The mere idea of it sent her into an even greater rage. She practically flew into the boy's dormitories, glares to her few fellow students lounging in the commons a clear 'back off' before they even spoke to remind her of the rules. His door was familiar despite her not having been through it very often - but as she reached it, she found herself hesitating. Her breathing, shallow and soft, practically echoed in the hallway in front of her as her eyes, strangely glassy, which only intensified their blue, stared a hole through that door. She almost didn't even want to speak to him, if not for the fact that she hated not saying someone necessary to someone's face, and she sure as hell wasn't going to leave the conversation where it had ended. Letting Isaac get away with something like that meant that she was letting him act like an ass, and she definitely wasn't okay with that.

Strangely and suddenly calm in her anger, she turned the doorknob and opened it, stepping through and shutting it hard behind her. Her eyes found his unflinchingly and without hesitation she held up her cell phone and, after a moment's pause, threw it at him, not caring so much if it broke (while secretly hoping it wouldn't). "You, Isaac Cauldine, can kiss my ass. That's how I feel about it. I don't care for you apologies when clearly you don't understand why I'm upset or what you're apologizing for - hell, you don't even care!" Sophia just let it go, no remorse, just a fountain of angry words. "You know me, Isaac. You know me. You know what hurts me and what doesn't. Still, though, somewhere in that brain of yours you think it's okay to treat me like one of the meaningless girls who's asses you grab in the halls? I am not someone you can disrespect, Isaac, you know that! It doesn't matter if you grab my ass or insult my intelligence, you know better!"

She was all at once quite tired of yelling. Sighing heavily and putting a head in her hands, she looked back up at him, face still flushed with frustration. "I mean, does it not matter to you anymore?"

The hurt had come out, despite her stubborn refusal to let it. Even in her fury that last sentence was laced with what she was refusing to acknowledge. She bit her lip before releasing it and shaking her head, crossing her arms, waiting for his response - like it would make a difference in the current situation. Her heart was beginning to slow from the angry pace it had earlier set, but that didn't change the feeling. He was in deep shit, and by God he would know it.

Shiiiiit. Isaac had been an ass before, but most of the time he was drunk when this happened. As far as being an ass, sober went, this was about the height of it. Yes ladies and gentlemen, Isaac Cauldine fully recognized that he had been a demeaning, self-centered, immature, little ass to one of his best friends. He didn’t even know why he sent that text in the first place, all the sudden the screen on his iPhone said ‘sending’ and for some unknown reason, Mac decided to not allow messages to cancel halfway through sending, and of course, they show you the conversation, botched reply and all, right after you hit that taunting little green button. After the second message had been sent as an apology, there was nothing else he could do to sway her opinion, granted, the second message probably didn’t do much to deter her wrath either. He expected either no message or a glaringly pissed message. He actually hoped for the pissed one because really hate was better to him than indifference. And so he sat on his bead loosely, leaning at a mostly horizontal angle against a pillow on the backboard, one jean-clad leg stretched forward, the other hanging off the mattress after the knee, anxiously waiting for the phone resting on his bare stomach to buzz with some sort of conformation of his jerk-ness. His left hand was thoroughly buried in the front of his hair, a sure sign he was stressing over this whole thing.

What he got however, was much more than he had bargained for, The door opened much too fast for it to be one of his roommates rolling in, so his grayish eyes snapped to attention when a female figure stormed in and a flying object came his way, landing with a pathetic ‘thwump’ against his bare chest, dropping to his side where he examined it to be her cell phone. It kinda hurt a little too, but what hurt worse was the look she gave him. Pissed to the glance, but the hurt, being buried beneath all the anger and impromptu action was a deep hurt he knew he had caused. He wanted to stop breathing. There was no way he could just wish this away. The idiot had screwed everything up, and now, somehow, he had to try and fix it. She needed to just yell at him and he let each word of the accusations stab him without flinching, without moving, simply looking her in the eye. She deserved that much, to yell at him till her voice went raw without retaliation or excuses. And though he tried to keep straight faced for her, he couldn’t help but allow his eyes to go soft a little around the edges and a lax pull to begin between his brows, because despite his highest efforts, he couldn’t completely mask the pain she was causing him in return. Even the false accusations (example: grabbing every girl’s ass ever) seared into him like he had done them to purposefully hurt Sophia. Was this what Adam felt like when God caught him naked in the garden after he had eaten the fruit? No. God wouldn’t have yelled.

Her last sentence is what did it. Of course it mattered. It all mattered. This didn’t seem like it was all just about the text, but he wouldn’t ask for her to expand on the harm he had unintentionally done to her. When silence finally fell in the room it was so thick, Isaac felt like he was being smothered with it. Held under an ocean full of silence. Almost timidly but quite smoothly, he placed his cell on the bed, too hers, moved to his feet and stood in front of her, not taking his eyes off hers. He thought about handing her the phone, but set it on the desk next to them instead. He opened his mouth to speak but at first all that came out was a little sigh, “Yes. It matters… of course…” he broke off realizing he was sounding more and more defensive and less apologetic, which is how he actually felt. He started again, in his usual calm tone in an attempt to hide his distress, “Soph.. I know I’ve been an asshole of a guy and an even shittier friend lately. And I’m really really sorry. I don’t know why the hell I do some of the things I do or say some of the things I say, but I did not and would not ever hurt you on purpose. Yo- your friendship is one of the most important things to me in my life, even though I take it for granted sometimes. I’m just..”

He let out a sigh, really not knowing where he was going with all this. She could stay mad as long as she like, but he needed her to know what he felt. His eye contact broke, unable to keep looking into the pools of blue staring back at him without feeling completely awful with himself. His gaze shifted to the floor, then his feet then flicked back to her face. One arm began to move up at the elbow then the shoulder, but the muscles were relaxed again as he decided against any physical contact with her at the moment, even a hand on the arm. There was nothing else he could do. He had poured out a very honest part of himself, and everything else was up to her.

Her resolve, so pent up and dangerous, was evident in her fisted hands, her thin lips, her narrowed brows. Said resolved melted into tiny little pieces that were written all of her damnedly open countenance when she realized that he was half naked and not going to fight her back. Instantly, protests of violation rose up within her, but she couldn't say anything - she had come into his room, after all. She had been excellent at avoiding seeing his bare chest for more than five seconds before this moment, hiding her eyes, averting her gaze, whatever it took to keep carefully guarded resolve, values, in tact. Seeing a man even half naked, while not really bad, was something she was attempting to avoid outside of occasionally necessary moments in dance - seeing Isaac half naked, however, was bad, judging by the sudden juggling act her stomach was engaging itself in. Damn him for being so...ahem. After a moment of having her blue eyes stuck to that body, she finally jerked them free and stared at him, obviously losing her anger in one fell swoop from his lips. What was it that had her so angry, anyway? All he had done was perform a stupid boy act, one that usually would have earned her ignoring him for a day or so; why, then, had she flown off the handle so quickly?

Regardless of why or what she should and shouldn't have done, here she was, and she still felt the same frustration there that had started it all. She was so persistent in her demands that it seemed as though one human mistake from Isaac had shattered all of her high expectations for him. Sophia needed to regroup and give him some breathing room, now, and in the future, some padding for the next time he did something stupid; she wouldn't tell him that, of course, and more than anything, at that moment she just wanted to dance it off and think, alone. She was still mad, however; while her resolve to step violently on his toes had disappeared, that had not. Stepping close enough that she could smell him and instantly refusing to breath, she grabbed her phone from the desk beside him and moved back quickly, taking a breath and looking him in his pleading eyes. "The next time you want to yell at me, don't text me. Say it to my face." She turned around and grabbed the doorknob, swinging it open and pausing, turning back to look at him. "And right now, Isaac, it's Sophia. Not Soph." Her still thin lips pressed together once more and she turned her back to him, shutting the door behind her and instantly leaning her back against it, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

Something weird was going on with her. She had always had a fire-start temper, but with Isaac, over something that now seemed so stupid? No, Soph. It wasn't stupid to be pissed off...but it was stupid to freak out like that. She gritted her teeth together and set her jaw stubbornly. Dancing was definitely the next thing on her list.

Putting her face in her hand for a moment, she muttered under her breath. "What is wrong with me..."