I strolled down the streets, waving at the photographers that had caught me whilst I was out shopping with Belle. Swiftly, we turned to the side, trying to surpass the papparazzi that had emerged out of nowhere.
We rushed into a small shop, the workers quickly shutting the doors on them so we could be in peace. I began to stroll around the shop, but Belle quickly interrupted me. "The World Cup is on soon. Are you planning on going?" I stopped scrolling through the clothes and pondered on her question.
"Probably not, I got invited to go to represent my agency, but," I paused for a second. Why didn't I want to go? "It'll just be weird," I answered, going back to searching through the aligned clothes on the racks, trying to find something else to waste my money on.
"Shame, I wanted to go but couldn't get any tickets." She sighed, resting against the wall next to her. "Too bad I'm not a famous model, could've achieved my dream of seeing the World Cup," She sarcastically said, I rolled my eyes at her attempt of manipulation but she had been obsessed with going to the World Cup ever since she was young.
"I'll go if you come with me?" I advertised, instantly feeling her press against my back as she pulled me into a hug, thanking me profusely. She placed her lips against the side of my head as a sign of admiration before jogging to my side.
"Maybe you and Neymar will fall back in love," She joked, I simply scoffed at her comment. "You should wear his jersey. Maybe he'll notice you."
"And for the French games, I can wear Kylians!" I sarcastically agreed, and we both shared a laugh before going to the register, paying for a couple of pieces I had found.
We left the store and began to walk around inconspicuously, trying our best to avoid any potential paparazzi that were lurking around. Suddenly, Belle grabbed me and pointed towards a shop, squealing in excitement. I moved my stare towards it, and two jerseys presented at the front.
"Oh please, it's fate, Mbappe and Neymar right there!" She pleaded, pulling me into the shop, yet I slightly resisted. Trying to distract her with the other surrounding stores, yet she was stuck on buying those two jerseys. "If you don't buy them, I will!"
"That'll be 29.99 for these two jerseys," the teenage cashier grumbled, completely unaware of a blissful Belle standing next to me. I unwillingly tapped my card and grabbed the plastic bag, jokingly hitting Belle on her arm as she laughed at my unwilling choices.
"I hate you. You're actually a terrible person," I joked, pulling a jersey out of my bag and holding it up against my body. Her laughter radiated through the entire center yet was swiftly stopped as we noticed a camera emerge from the corner. Photographing me with an Mbappé jersey spread across my torso. Fuck.
»»————- ♡ ————-««
"That's it, you're officially a French fan!" Diane advertised, showing me articles of the photo being spread around. I bit my lip as I scrolled through my phone, mainly rumors of me supporting France, but a couple of me dating Kylian.
"Is that so terrible?" I asked, continuing to read through the articles as Diane paced around her office.
"It depends on how far France makes it. You were supposed to base yourself off neutrality and choose a team during the semi-finals. Now you're all in." She rapidly responded, "You also need a French company to sponsor your trip, and to hang out with the French team, and you're not even French so we need a reason for your support to the team."
Watching as she sat down and scrolled through her emails, I felt an anxious pit in my stomach. The French team means Kylian, Kylian means the guy that punched Neymar for no apparent reason 7 months ago. I hadn't spoken to either of them since that night.
"There are plenty of French businesses that would sponsor me, I spent a long time in Paris last summer? Surely that amounts for something," I claimed, trying to fix the mistake I caused. Diane gave me a nod before glancing back at her laptop, presumably trying to control the media.
"I'll make some calls." She announced before promptly leaving the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I noticed a notification from Instagram appear in the top corner, Kylian Mbappé started following you. Anxiously, I followed him back, my finger pressing against the screen as I tapped my foot against the floor.
News travels fast.
Accompanying the impetuous follow, he also messaged me. Hesitating slightly, I opened it and began to respond.
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I rolled my eyes before placing my phone in my purse. Trying to ignore Kylians' display of flirting, knowing I would have to meet him in a couple of days.
Luckily, Diane rushed back into the room cheerfully, announcing she had found a sponsor for the matches. "Now all we need to do is make France win!" She gleefully squealed, "we could pay of a referee?"
"We could also not go to jail!" I responded. She brushed me off before eagerly pulling me into a hug, her softly curled hair being flung into my face.
"You went from a scruffy old purse to being flown around in jets to the World Cup!"
