𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 － pablo gavi

𝟏𝟐 - 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑾𝑨𝑵𝑻 𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑶 𝑭𝑼𝑪𝑲 𝑴𝒀𝑺𝑬𝑳𝑭?

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𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝟏𝟐
—you want me to fuck myself?

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Freshly showered and in comfortable clothes, one almost feel like newborn, they say in any case.

This was also the case for Cayetana — at least for a short moment.

Slowly the memories of last night came back piece by piece, let Cayetana freeze every now and then.

She felt his hands on her body, his tongue on her lips, heard his breathing in her ear.

Damn, now she felt the craving for exactly the same body contact even stronger.

She hadn't noticed the telltale mark on her neck until she dared to look in the mirror for the first time, either.

That look had also been the fourth shock of the day, because as expected, her likeness had looked as if she had been hit by a truck.

A real jumpscare.

After the long shower, she had gone back to her bed to spend the time she had left on Netflix, instead spending almost an hour on social media.

Catching up on what was happening in the soccer world, she came across Pablo's profile by accident.

He hadn't posted any private photos.
Everything on his account showed his passion for football, even as a child he already wore the Blaugrana colors with pride.

At that time, not knowing how much attention he would ever attract.

No sooner had reality caught up with her than she turned off her phone and closed her eyes. Her thoughts were already circling enough around this boy, although she had given herself no right to do so.

Apart from the fact that he still didn't seem to like her.

When she next opened her eyes there was no sign of sunlight shining through the window. It was dark.

She rubbed her eyes, reached for her phone to check the time, and realized she had slept through the entire day. Her power nap had lasted more than nine hours.

That couldn't be true.

There was almost nothing she hated as much as sleeping through the day — except maybe when someone got into her bed with dirty clothes on. Already two things she had been allowed to experience today.

Among her awakenings was the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach; nausea caused by today's involuntary hunger strike.

She threw back the blanket and headed for the kitchen to prepare dinner.

With her avocado toast on a plate, she flopped down on the couch and turned on the TV. She couldn't sleep now anyway, so why not zap haphazardly through the many channels.

So she gleefully ate her toast, trying to concentrate on the movie, which was visibly difficult for her.

The sleep had done well, but the thoughts that whirred around in her head could not be erased.

When she heard footsteps, she turned her head in their direction, but turned away again almost immediately. She had no desire for this conversation.

The two boys settled down on the other side of the couch, with the brunette watching them out of the corner of her eye.