World Cup [larry stylinson a.u.]

20.0

THE SLUT

The few days after the tourist's confession went by rather quickly. The model stayed right there with me all the time and I thanked her for that. I did it just when I was drunk, obviously. It would have been harder to be alone.

I've been reading online about a virus that had been affecting some people in Rio and I'm sure that it had something to do with my sudden and weird reaction about the matter. Crying over some random dude is not usually like me. Neither will it ever be again.

"No. I absolutely forbid this," she freaks out, "You are going to Sao Paulo no matter what."

"Come with me and I'll go," I play childish, "Come on," I beg her, "I don't want to go alone. What if I meet them there?"

"Who is them?"

"You know," I open my eyes wider, "Don't make me say it."

"Harry," she complains, "I don't have enough money. The flight will be very expensive and I don't even have tickets for the match."

"But you said you had this friend who could get you in," I pout, "You see? I'd rather stay here and watch it on the TV. Whatever."

"No," she sounds determined, "You flew all the way from London for this World Cup and I am not going to let you stay here."

"But, please," I drag the word with a very convincing pout, "Come with me, please, please, please."

"I've never thought I'd see you beg."

"Me neither but I really don't want to go alone," I sigh, "I'll pay for your ticket. I don't mind."

"No," she frowns, "I'm not going to let you pay for it. Are you kidding me?"

"But I seriously don't care," I grab my laptop and I open an airline website, "Look, I'll book it right now."

"No, Harold!" she tries to stop me but I don't let her.

"It's not even that expensive," I lie once I see the price, "I'll confirm it." It is actually very expensive but I seriously don't care because running into the homos and being alone could possible turn into the worst nightmare ever.

"No! I'm being serious," she jumps to me, "You are not my sugar daddy and I'm not your slut."

"Too late," I cover my mouth with one hand, "I already did it. You are coming with me, slut."

"But Harold," I can tell she is actually excited about it but she doesn't want to let me see it, "How dare you? I'm not a slut, I just love love."

"Whatever you say," I ignore her stupid joke, "Just call your friend and get a ticket for the match," I demand.

"Oh my God, oh my God," she stands up and walks around the room.

"Are you excited now?"

"I'm going to see Henderson from close and I'm going to make him fall for me and we'll get married and have little football players baby boys and little pretty models baby girls and we will be happy and you are going to be their uncle and," she talks non stop.

"I'm already regretting this," I joke.

"I'll be the best World Cup match wing girl, you'll see," she assures.

"Whatever," I throw myself on the bed, "I'm not even excited."

"I'll make you excited," she lies next to me, "How about the Sao Paulo night life?"

"Kind of cool," I shrug.

"We'll bring the party to them," she stands up and starts jumping on the bed, "Come and jump with me!"