World Cup [larry stylinson a.u.]

16.0

THE HEARTBREAK

“Bom dia,” the obnoxious smiley lady welcomes me at the airport gate, “Bem-vindo ao Rio de Janeiro.”

I’m back in Rio and I can’t even remember how it happened. I started drinking right after I found that stupid note that I don’t even want to remember about. My stomach makes some noises in attempt to tell me that I need food but it isn’t on my plans list to pay attention to it. I need more alcohol. Nothing else.

I stumble upon my way to the taxi. Nothing about this city feels good today. The same guy that got me the car on my first arrival to Rio is here again but I can’t deal with the memories that this situation is bringing me right now.

Somehow I manage to get to my hotel room. I close the windows because I want nothing but darkness right now. I pick a random playlist from my IPod, I poor some vodka on my glass and I’m set to continue drowning in my sorrow. What am I even feeling sad about? I’m not sad. I’m mad because I let some random asshole make me look ridiculous and I am absolutely positive that I’m never going to let that happen again.

All I need right now is to empty my mind from everything. It shouldn’t be hard to do so. As it shouldn’t be hard to go back to what my life have always been. So I don’t know the reason why I’m so grumpy right now. The songs are starting to make me feel better and this vodka is helping as well. I’m kind of enjoying my loneliness right now but an insisting knock on my door ruins everything.

“Open the door,” the model demands, “I know you are there. I can hear the music,” she keeps knocking annoyingly, “Come on!”

“Go away!” I yell after a few minutes.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she keeps knocking, “You better open the door because I’m very persuasive.”

“I need to be alone right now,” I try to find an excuse, “I’m with someone.”

“No, you are not,” she laughs, “Nice try though.”

“I don’t want to see you,” I yell even higher, “You made this happen.”

“Harry,” she sighs, “Can you open the door?” I don’t mind replying, “I brought some crepes,” she says and, at the mention of food, my stomach decides to make noises again, “Oh my God, this is so good,” she talks with her mouth full, “This cheese. I wish you could try it,” she insists.

“Gimme the food,” I say as I open the door, “No, you stay there. All I want is food.”

“Whatever,” she pushes me away to get inside of my room, “Come here,” she opens her arms.

“What do you want?” I raise an eyebrow to her.

“Hug me.”

“I’m not going to hug you,” I roll my eyes at her and I grab a crepe from her paper bag.

“I’ll hug you then,” she hugs me really tight from behind of my back, “This baby needs a hug,” she rubs her face against my back and, even if I feel like laughing, I’m too busy stuffing my mouth with cheese and bacon.

“You are annoying me,” I mumble.

“What do you want to do?” she asks as she opens her purse, “I brought my laptop to watch a few movies, chocolates and,” she lowers her voice, “Don’t tell anyone but I got some weed too,” she laughs.

“Where did you get that?”

“A magician never reveals her secrets,” she winks at me, “But you smell like liquor so you are not going to mix that with this. We’ll leave it for later.”