World Cup [larry stylinson a.u.]

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THE INTRODUCTION

I decided that attending the World Cup would be fun. I'm not that much into football though, I like to watch England play and the excitement it causes on people is definitely something I enjoy a lot but I have to admit that I know nothing about the sport itself.

Two of my friends were supposed to come with me and my anxiety made me buy the flight tickets a year ago, when we started planning the trip because I thought that would make Liam and Zayn buy them as well. Of course it would, they wouldn't just let me hanging there. They are my friends. But, sadly, they didn't care. Two months before it started, they told me they were not coming along with me.

I won't lie, I was upset at first. I even thought about cancelling the whole thing and exchanging the tickets for some miles. I knew I could use those but I didn't want to accept the fact that something I planned didn't go well. I just cannot handle failure. Never. Not even when it's a stupid matter.

I decided I'd go anyway, by myself. I traveled alone before and it turned out well. I sold Liam and Zayn's match tickets online and I booked the nicest hotel available in every city I was supposed to visit. First, a short stay in Rio. Second, Sao Paulo. Third, Manaus. Fourth, Sao Paulo again. And fifth, Belo Horizonte. I don't mind about the other cities actually, I'm excited about Rio. That's the place I want to visit the most.

Two weeks before the trip, things got out of control. My excitement was all over the place. I couldn't wait for the date to arrive and I even convinced myself that going alone is the best thing that could have ever happened. To be honest, the idea of being surrounded by tons of heterosexual men, all drunk and excited, is kind of tempting. And by kind of, I mean beyond tempting.

Straight men. They have always been my weakness. I don't find gay men exciting. Why would I? That's too easy. I know how I look like. I'm a hot manly guy. Manly. I repeat it because that, my lovely readers, opens every door down in Gay Lane. Gay men fall for me every two blocks. I could pick one from a line and I'd be banging them senseless in the blink of an eye. Straight men instead, straight men are a challenge.

Another thing you should know about me is that challenging myself is my favorite thing ever. Well, my second favorite thing. The first one is sex and, oh man, modesty apart, I am very good at it. A talent might not have been given to me when I was born, or so I thought when I was younger and until the first time I found myself giving an use to my, well, boy part.

It's an activity I had perfected through the years. I took and take every advice, I watch every reaction I cause and every single time I do it, I want more. No, I need more. Pleasing men is the best way I know to become eternal. Unforgettable. Undeniable.

I started out with women, older women. They were experienced. They were confident and aware of every cell of their bodies. They were starving for my youth and, most importantly, they were willing to teach a seventeen year old everything he needed to know about the art of lovemaking. And I was thirsty to learn.

Once I became good and confident enough, I decided to switch things up a little. I decided to go for the thing I craved the most. Men. And if I thought I was good before. If I believed nothing could cause me more pleasure than the things I experienced till then. I was wrong. I am a gay man, fellows. What can I say? That's my thing and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

The only thing I've always known I had to take care of was that stupid little shit advertisement men invented to sell nylons, as Don Draper used to say. I wouldn't fall for love, my friends. I am too smart to ruin myself that way. I am too wise. Too fast to run before the breakfast tray hits the bed. Too intuitive to recognize the bright on people's eyes before it happens. That moment when they stare at you in silence. That moment when their heads tell them it could become something more. That's the exact moment when I know I have to run away, as fast as I can, leaving no trail behind.

And now here I am, sitting on a comfy couch at some VIP lounge. Waiting for the hostess to call my name. Waiting for my sign to board the plane and I can't help but wonder what Rio has prepared for myself. I love the feeling of not knowing what will happen next. It is me and my fate. Nothing else.

"Styles," the young lady looks at me, "Mr. Harold Styles?"

"That would be me," I answer politely.

Watch out, Brazil. Cause here I come.

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Dedication goes to the person who made the cover —> @LouisTeax Nice and talented girl who understood exactly what I needed for this story.

I hope we all enjoy this ride. Thanks for reading. Seb. :)

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The events depicted in this book are fictitious. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. (c) 2014 @sebLarry. All rights reserved.