ᶠÚᵗᵇᵒˡ Oɴᴇsʜᴏᴛs ⎳⎳

The interlude (Neymessi)

We arrive to the bar and everyone barges out, like it's their first time at an amusement park. Well, it kinda is for us, because barely any of us drink alcohol here. We've booked the club for us to enjoy for the day, ofcourse because we don't want attention from the public and just want to celebrate our win against Juventus. As I walk in behind a few others, I'm welcomed with a garland of flowers around my neck, turning to see who did, out of curiosity. I stop dead in my tracks, striken by this boy's beauty. Plump lips, curly golden locks, and a sweet scent radiating off him as I notice his name tag on top of his body-tight shirt, which is hugging his petite waist. Neymar. He smiles a very cheeky smile, grabbing a small shot glass filled with a clear liquid in it, maybe vodka.

- "Congratulations on the win sir," I've never heard a voice oh so timid and screaming everything about innocense. His eyes glisten under the slightly dimmed lights, as I break out of my trance from him waving a hand before my eyes. He surely is something.

- "oh sorry, yes, thank you." I down the shot trying my best to look professional, as he places the shot glass over to the bar countertop and escorts me to our lounge room where everyone was situated. I sit over between Suarez and Iniesta, soon realizing Neymar had left. What a bummer.

- "Hey, we didn't get that!"

- "Get what, Marc?"

- "The garland you dummy!" Marc points over at my neck as I look down, sort of making a fool out of myself. Iniesta scoffs while Suarez just sits with a plain face, binging youtube. Marc whines and Xavi and others stare, and I remain silent out of boredome. Would've been better at home, surely.

---

We snacked on a few things and had gotten through main course too, which id supposedly this club's speciality, only reserved for VIP's. I mean, the food was okay, nothing crazy, like how Marc is still ranting on about how un-realistically good thr food was. I've been doing the same since I came here, talk and remain silent when I not. Suarez managed to speak a few things finally keeping his phone away, which I later confiscated when he tried to binge more youtube because it was getting annoying at this point. He continued on whining, but stopped when I was to toss it to the floor.

It's been pretty much of a normal evening, spending quality time with the team, than more of a celebratory evening spraying around champagne and screaming, proud in victory. I don't know how stupid I am, but I could've actually just stayed with Neymar in the first place. It wouldn't be too nice of me, but he really caught alot of my attention. I get up and comb my hair with my fingers, propping up my flannel in case it has wrinkled from sitting. Marc being Marc, ofcourse has to get his questions answered:

- "Hey, you're leaving early?"

- "No, I'm just going to the main bar."

- "Drinks?"

- "You could say that."

- "You propping your shirt and combing your hair says otherwise." He can be like a 5 year old sometimes, like now. And oh god does it get worse by each passing min-

- "ooooohh you've got the hots for someonee" He wriggles his eyebrows while I scoff, rolling my eyed at him. Just when I was leaving, he had to question me again.

- "Hang on, Leo. You actually...?.." His voice trails off to the end, as I nod and sprint away. Well now I can feast my eyes on something great. I take a seat on the high chairs, surprised that no one's here to serve except for Neymar. He notices me and smiles, and how contagious it is. I smile back, my hands on the counter while he cleans the counter below the marble one where other utensils and stuffs probably are.

- "Any drinks I can offer you, Sir?" He props his glasses on stacks while asking me so, his ass on display right to my face as he shoves something into the drawers below.

- "What do you think I prefer, Neymar?" I have to use my chance while it's only the two of us here.

- "Si-"

- "Please call me Leo, Ney." He giggles, probably blushing from the nickname I gave him.

- "So..um..Leo. Maybe rum?" He timidly asks, fiddling with napkin in his hands. Cutie.

- "Sure thing, cutie." I wink and make sure he notices, staring at him as professionally as I could make myself look externally. I'm not sure if he's eager to know what else I'm a professional at, football aside.

---

Leo..he..I don't know how I'm supposed to comprehend this either. The way he's been looking at me since I welcomed him..how he spoke so romantically; fliratiously...could it all be me over-thinking this whole situation? If I am, that's well..unfortunate. I got to talk to the Lionel Messi, practically to a legend. I've never in my life thought I would be standing here getting flirted with by Lionel Messi. It's just too un-real. It's giving mr constant tingle to my skin, and thinking of him gets me to giggle and blush. Is it weird? Did he really flirt with me? Or maybe his simplest gestures...I over-thought it?

I'm forced out of my trance by the foot steps and voices of multiples men and that too surely, the players. I turn around in search of Leo, and ironically enough, we find and lock eyes instantly. As if time froze, he silently stands between all the others, staring at me while I loosely hold a glass in my hands. This moment is unfortunately, short lived. Leo gets dragged out towards their bus, while he exchanges glances with others and looks back at me with sad eyes. I prevent myself from feeling heavy-hearted because...well..he's leaving. I don't want him to go.

Yes, we just met, but please don't go. These words repeat in my head as I turn, facing away from them, hopefully surviving the tinee-tiny sad moment. I hear the engines boot, and the wheels scurrying away in the empty streets. I sigh and take my apron off, accompanied by the silence. I feel tears prick my eyes but rub them away, because, the best moments are always short lived. In approach of the door with my head hung low to thr ground, a pair of shoes come within my eye range. I don't remember the manager telling me someone would accompany me-....Leo..?..

I drop my bag in shock and get kissed on the lips, stumbling back from the impact. I feel like I'm in a roller coaster ride of emotions, but the good one. He grabs my waist and lifts me up without any effort, pulling back as I stare at him, heart swelling from all the happy feelings that exist. He looks pleased, his eyes full of passion. I'm not hallucinating, am I? Wait...he didn't leave with the team?..huh?..

- "L-Leo-"

- "I know what you'll ask, Ney. Yes, I didn't leave with them. I just couldn't..looking at your eyes. They pulled onto me, and moved me. I made up an excuse and stayed...for you." He whispers the last two words on my lips, making my eyes slightly water. He rubs the tears away, smiling widely with radiating affection, carrying me and my bag out of the club. So this is reality. Real, yet so unreal.

- "My place, sweetie?" He smirks, clearly with a different intention. I just nod, and that's all I can do. Everything that happened in the span of a day, is over-whelming for me. A bartender with a word-reknowned football player Lionel Messi. It just can't be, yet it is. And I believe, that's the beauty of reality. Everything is real, but a few interludes are un-realistic. That's just how it is. That's just how everything that revolves around us works.

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Hehhe its weekends so praise me like a queen 💅💅💅 (FOR FUCK'S SAKE I NEED CRISMESSI IDEAS EKEJDBSJEJDBDHJDJDJDJDJD--)