Fútbol One Shots

Brazilian Summer | Rafinha

The sparkling white beaches of São Paulo were crowded with what seemed like a million people, but Sam had a strip of the ocean all to herself. Perks of dating someone like Rafi, she thought to herself with a smile as she took a sip of the perfectly made cocktail offered by the extravagant resort.

Sunny Brazil was a nice change of scenery from the almost perpetual rain of London. When her boyfriend had asked her if she wanted to fly to his home country with him for national team training, she didn't even have to think before accepting the invitation.

The clear waves rushed up to the pristine crystal shore, tumbling over each other and crashing onto the sand. The sound of the water rolling onto land almost lulled the brunette beauty into a dreamlike slumber, but she fought the urge to fall asleep under the golden sun. After all, her first Brazilian summer was something that she wanted to remember every last detail about.

Sam decided to get up from the lounge chair that she had comfortably been situated on since Rafinha had left to go train with his teammates a few hours before. The mile-long private beach, owned by the all-inclusive resort the whole Brazil team was booked at for the week, was deserted, save for her.

She approached the sea, open and inviting with its startlingly blue waters. Even though the waves rolled to her ankles now, she could still see nearly every grain of sand under her toes. Wading deeper into the ocean, she adjusted her bikini strap absentmindedly and pushed her sunglasses up higher onto the bridge of her nose. They covered her brown eyes that were the color of deep pools of freshly brewed coffee, just like her favorite hot chocolate from Costa's back home in London.

The tranquility of standing alone in the ocean was soon interrupted by raucous shouting from the beach. Scowling slightly, Sam quickly assumed that the annoying children of the resort's usually snobby clientele had arrived to reclaim their territory from the previous day, most of which had been spent building outrageously ornate sand castles (and then destroying them, of course.)

To her surprise, it was the Selecao returning from a long day of grueling training. Why there were shouting and whooping like cavemen was beyond her, though.

A smile slowly spread across her face as soon as her eyes landed upon her boyfriend, who was hanging back to talk with his teammates from Barcelona for a second. Neymar and Dani Alves grinned and nudged him as they spotted her approaching before quickly leaving their friend to join the ragtag game of beach volleyball that had started among the Brazilians. It was more of an argument, really, especially when considering that Oscar was hotly debating with David Luiz whether or not he could use his head in the sport.

"Hey," Rafinha greeted her softly once she was in earshot. She could see how tired he was from how he hung back from hanging out with his best friends.

Sam took his hand in her own, leading him back towards the ocean slowly. "Hey yourself, Raf."

He looked her up and down, noticing how the seawater still glistened on her lithe body. "Wait," he said suddenly, stopping in his track.

The brunette turned to him, frowning slightly. "Babe, what's wrong?"

"I have to take my shirt off," he said with a wink as he peeled his training kit off. "You can touch, if you want," he added, referring to his six pack with a smug expression.

"Please," Sam snorted. "I've seen loads of better washboards."

Rafinha blinked at her, his eyes darkening. "I doubt that."

Leaning in next to his ear, she whispered cheekily, "It's just banter, Raf. Obviously, yours is the best."

He smirked at her. "That's what I thought."