𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 // 𝐦𝐮𝐟𝐜 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬

✗ 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 [ 𝐩𝐩 ]

               PAUL SIGHED AS HE ENTERED the Manchester–located pub, not seeing any of his friends. He had agreed to join a group of friends outside of the team for a drink, though the French footballer had hesitated; thanks to his agent, his reputation wasn't as good as it could have been, and he knew being spotted on a night out drinking wouldn't help it. However, he found himself dropping down on a stool by the bar, noticing how a young bartender recognized him.

               Sometimes he hated being Paul Pogba. He couldn'g go anywhere without children, young adults — even the occasional retired, old man — swarming around him, asking for pictures, autographs, videos for friends, a greeting for social media ( he knew that last one there was for the person's bragging rights ). Of course, he did them — to a certain extent. He needed time off occasionally, and he wondered how several of his teammates did it. Sure, he was a public personality, but he tried to keep his personal life personal; yet, everyone seemed to know everything, all the time.

               As quietly as possible, he ordered himself one of the pub's very own home–brewed lagers, he sank back against the stool's wooden back, just looking out into the room. The pub was far from crowded, though the volume of the peoples' chatter was loud, bouncing off the walls and off each other to make it even louder. Rubbing his temple, Paul turned his attention back to the beer, not even noticing how someone sat down next to him.

"Hi, I know you don't know me, but will you do me a favor?" A hushed, female voice spoke to him, making Paul confused. Fearing it was someone who wanted another video–greeting for a child, or about a million selfies, he was about to offer a ' no thank you ' when she instead shook her head, chuckling lightly. "Look — sorry, I know you fear something else, but I don't think this is among the things you've been asked. My best friend; well, not any more, anyway, she is coming here with my ex–boyfriend, who's now her boyfriend. God knows why they wanted to meet me, but I lied and said I had a boyfriend. I panicked, and well — here I am. Would you mind pretending to be my boyfriend, only for the night?"

                "What's the catch?" The Frenchman raised an eyebrow, turning towards her. She looked a little surprised at first, not quite understanding what he aimed at. "Come on; did you really approach a stranger in a bar, asking for a favour, without wanting anything back?"

"I guess." She chuckled, shaking her head a little, before extending a hand for him to shake. "I'm Joan, and I really hope you will help me."

Paul found himself chuckling in return, giving her hand a firm shake. "Nice to meet you, Joan — I'm Paul." For the both of them, that was the confirmation she needed. Paul Pogba would help her ' impress ' a former best friend and an ex–boyfriend. It was odd for Paul; for the first time in what felt like forever, he was approached by someone who was interested in him for him, and not for his money, or for his position as a professional footballer for Manchester United.

They spent the next few minutes getting to know each other as well as possible, wanting to make sure their act was believable upon the arrival of Lindsay and Zach ( which was among the things Paul learnt in Joan's quick–fire round about what he needed to know about her former friend and former lover ). Truth was, the footballer wasn't quite sure how to feel about the fact that she had approached him for something completely different than his position and fame; it was, as Paul could remember, the first time since he had before he had left Manchester for Turin and Juventus.

"Alright, they're coming, let's pretend to be in love." Joan mumbled resting her chin on Paul's shoulder, looking up at him. He found himself chuckling, a stupid smile spreading on his lips as he looked at her.

"Joan, there you are."

Paul turned his head, looking directly at a man he assumed was Zach; the ex–boyfriend she wanted to impress — or was it the former best friend she wanted to impress? Quite frankly, Paul couldn't remember, causing him to panic a little. In the matter of a second, Paul had forgotten everything about these two complete strangers, and he feared he was going to ruin the entire thing for Joan.

"Hey." Joan forced a smile onto her face, giving Lindsay a brief hug, simply nodding at Zach. "Guys, this is my boyfriend — Paul."

                The French footballer extended a hand, patiently waiting for Zach and Lindsay to shake it as a polite gesture. However, he noticed how Joan's ex–boyfriend froze, his mouth wide open in shock as his eyes landed on Paul. "You're—," he stuttered, glancing at Joan. "I can't believe you literally scored Paul Pogba."

               Paul found himself sweating, though a gentle touch on his arm from Joan made him calmer. "Zach, if you can't act normal around him, then you can screw off." Joan scoffed, noticing how Paul's hand dropped to his side again. "Paul is a lot more than just a footballer. Besides, I'm not dating him for his footballing–career; he's kind, sweet, funny — what more could I ask for?" Joan snaked her arms around Paul's torso, sending him an admiring look as she placed a hand on his chest. As a reflex, Paul wrapped an arm around her waist, another smile spreading on his lips.

"How about we get some drinks?" Lindsay cleared her throat, leading them to the bar. Though Paul was sure he felt the most uncomfortable, Lindsay was the worst when it came to hiding it.

                  The four of them chatted in a low voice from a booth in the far back of the pub, Paul holding onto his beer — almost as if he was afraid of it walking away. Joan noticed, however, and had also noticed how his leg was bouncing underneath the table. Carefully, she placed a hand on his knee, making Paul shift his position uncomfortably. Zach, on the other side of the table, was staring at them with narrow eyes, and Lindsay was still completely oblivious to the fact that no one was listening to her story.

                In fact, that was how it continued the next five minutes.

                  "How did you meet?" Zach blurted out, cutting off his own girlfriend's story. "Like, how did you meet Joan?"

                   "We met in the waiting room at the physio's." Paul breathed out, keeping his eyes on Zach. "I was waiting for my session, she was waiting for hers — we started chatting and hit it off. I gave her my number, didn't really expect her to text me, but she did, and it all went from there really. She is, without a doubt, the best thing that has happened to me, and she is a rock to have by my side considering how things are right now."

Zach narrowed his eyes, slumping in his seat as he couldn't find anything to point out as odd. Their conversation continued, and while Zach remained quiet, it was obvious to Joan and Paul that he was cooking up some questions for the French footballer. "Why did you ask her out?" He huffed, leaning forward as he waited for Paul to reply.

"That's easy." Paul chuckled, glancing at Joan. "I was catching feelings."