TESSA ▸ PAUL POGBA

SEVEN • THE GREEN MONSTER

"So, Tess, when's the wedding?" Florentin asked from beside her.

Both him and Mathias, Paul's older twin brothers, were sat beside her in the family section of the arena. They were huddled together in a group with Paul's mum, Elle and Wyatt.

Tessa rolled her eyes at Florentin's question. "Come on, Flo. You know it's not like that."

"But you guys are basically in a relationship anyway," Mathias spoke up.

And to that, Tessa didn't have an answer. They were right. Herself and Paul were basically in a relationship; all they were missing were the labels. "I don't know what to tell you, boys. Why don't you ask your brother?" Her eyes shifted back to the pitch, to Paul as he passed the ball to N'Golo.

"He seems to be busy at the moment," Florentin chuckled.

"Yeah, he's playing in this thing called the World Cup. I know in America it may not be as popular but in the rest of the world..." Mathias teased; he loved taking the piss out of the fact that Tessa was American. "Seriously, what's up with you two?"

"Garçons," their mother warned; she had a sixth sense for knowing how Tessa felt in any given situation. Tessa knew she didn't approve of the relationship the American had with the Frenchman––as a devout Muslim woman, Paul's mother wanted them to commit to each other––but nevertheless, she fell in love with Tessa the first time she saw her. The two got along incredibly well; Tessa noted that Paul's mother hadn't been so open to the rules of dating until she met Tessa; the American could charm parents, that was her sixth sense.

She turned to his mother, sending a grateful smile her way. "Merci."

All of their eyes were glued to the pitch as they watched the game against Denmark came to an end, scoreless; still, France had made it into the Round of 16. A wide grin found itself to Tessa's face as the whistle blew. She turned back to Wyatt and Elle. "I think this calls for a celebration tonight." The two girls shared a smirk, vigorously nodding their heads.

After the French players exchanged formalities with the Danish, Paul made his way over to the family and friends section, picking out his family as the loudest and most rambunctious there. He rolled his eyes playfully, walking over to them and giving his mother a hug first.

He went through his brothers, making his way to stand in front of his girl. "Ma moitié," he greeted, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips.

"You didn't score," she teased when they pulled back. Before the tournament began, he promised her he would score at least one goal for her. She sushed him before he could finish––"I'm superstitious, you know that!"––and ever since then, she'd been teasing him about that. Truth be told, Tessa would've loved a goal scored for her, but she was superstitious and saying her wishes out loud would've definitely jinxed them.

Everyone ended up going out to a club later that night. It may have been just because the World Cup was in town but the Russian nightlife was active, to say the least. Tessa, alongside her friends, her not-really boyfriend, his brothers and some of the other French players, found themselves at a packed club in Moscow. There was enough room for Tessa to breathe but that was about it; no such thing as personal bubbles existed in this place.

Nearly an hour and a half later, she didn't seem to mind that much; she had indulged in all the all-you-can-drink bar and found herself stumbling onto the dance floor with Elle attached to her hip. The two girls found Wyatt, dancing with a guy she'd just met along with Benjamin Mendy and a girl he'd found and they all danced the night away.

"Don't look now," Elle slurred in Tessa's ear, "but some blonde sket is trying to get familiar with Pogs." As soon as the words slipped out of Elle's mouth, the green monster began forming in Tessa's stomach. She looked up to the corner of the club her friend group had deemed home base and indeed saw a leggy blonde trying to flirt with Paul, who looked as uncomfortable as could be.