C O D E W O R D | neymar jr

III

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"Are you going to be okay?" He asked, walking me up to my hotel room, "This place looks dodgy, I can hook you up in a nicer room"

Giving him a funny look, I turned to face him, giggling at his upper-class persona, "I'll be fine don't worry, I won't get kidnapped.

"Okay but if anything happens just call me,"

"I don't have your number Ney," I rolled my eyes, turning to unlock the door with some rusty keys. "And I don't need it I'll be fine!" As I unlocked the door, I moved my body to face him, he was still the kind soul I met 9 years ago. "I'd invite you in but there's only a bed and a toilet in here,"

"But you can call the police if something happens," 

"I'll also call the police because a strange man won't believe I won't be brutally murdered in a perfectly normal hotel!"

"Okay okay, I'll go" Oh god, were we meant to hug or should I give him a kiss, maybe I should wave goodbye or something? What's the protocol for this kind of scenario?

Cautiously, he pulled me into a hug, manoeuvring his arms around my waist, making sure not to cause any awkward moments. I placed my arms around his neck, watching as he leaned down a bit to allow me to draw him closer.

"Hey Ney"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you"
"Anytime Anna"

And just like that, he was fearfully running out of the hotel, trying to avoid the potential murders he thought came to find victims.

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The morning was rough, waking up in yesterday's clothes, Neys jacket rough and scattered on the floor. My head was banging and my mouth felt dry. I rushed to get my phone, rolling over on the bed to reach it and... it was dead. My only option was to get up and eat. Hoping that it would charge during breakfast.

I put on some leggings and a sweater, hoping yesterday's fiasco would simply resolve itself. Yet that's not how modern media works, however much I want my personal life to stay private, the outbursts of yesterday will be publicised on every Twitter post, and every Instagram story and every piece of media would be filled with various stories, explaining a different side of the story each time.

I rushed downstairs, my hair matted and my mascara still staining my eyelids. The luxury of staying in a cheaper hotel is being allowed to enter the diner without having to look as though I'm about to enter a gala. 

I rushed to get some cereal, it was unbranded, placed next to a rundown fridge with milk inside. There were a couple of people staying here, truckers mostly, looking at me like I was crazy as I feasted as though I'd never eaten before. 

Looking up at the TV, my heart dropped, the news station was in a language I couldn't understand but the clip of Neymar punching a man in the face was coherent. Why was this even in the news? The clip played around 5 times, slowing it down, speeding it up, as though they were mocking the experience.

Racing upstairs, I didn't even finish breakfast but I had to know if they knew what had happened, if my already miserable reputation had been tarnished further. 

"Diane?" I asked, calling her as soon as my phone hit one per cent, she gave me a satisfied sigh as soon as I answered the phone, "What's happening in the media?"

"You've gone viral! Everyone's in love with heroic Neymar, defending a beautiful woman. It's amazing, I'm already speaking to his manager and trust me the marketing of this scenario will turn out in your favour!"

"I don't want to go viral for being assaulted by a man who assumed I was a hooker," I answered, thinking of how to avoid the scenario. "Could we just wait until this passes?"

"What, this is what we've been waiting for. Finally, you're going to get famous, you'll be able to live in central Paris and travel around. Your dream will come true!" She tried to convince me but my one thought was Ney, he already had a terrible reputation and now they're going to announce that he's toxic and brutal again.

"I just don't know if this is how I want my reputation to grow, I mean how many people got famous through harassment," I could hear the eye roll through the phone but I wanted to stand my ground. 

"You've had 10 years to find a way to be this amazing model and you finally have an opportunity and you're not going to take it?" Her voice was serious, "You got into this world to give people better lives, you wanted to do charity work and set up organisations and give half of your earnings to people in need. What happened to the 20 year old that woud've done anything to have money?"

Her words stung, she was right, a childhood dream was to be a hero, to have my name stabled on charities around the world and I would've never given it up to help one person. "What's the plan?"

"Tommorow, you and Neymar are going around Paris, photographed falling in love, then our teams will set up a donation to a womans abuse charity and you will attend an event announcing it." She announced, at least it involved helping people yet the idea of pretending to be in love with someone I swore to never speak to again was harsh.

"Falling in love with Ney again? Big step."

"Pretending to fall in love, we can set up a safe word if you'd like? Just in case you do fall in love?" 

"That's stupid,"

"No whats stupid is you falling back in love with an ex from 9 years ago and me not even getting to help you stop it,"

"Fine, the code word is prada" I joked, it's not like I would ever use it anyways, I'm most definitely not going to fall in love with a man I barley knew.
Right?

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