World Cup [larry stylinson a.u.]

22.0

THE SHIPPING

“I’d call you homo again but I like Bubu way better,” he winks at me and I feel like puking freaking rainbows and teddy bears.

“I like Bubu better too,” I answer with a smile.

“I missed calling you Bubu actually,” I know he is having a hard time trying to concentrate on me with the second period of the match happening in front of us.

“You can watch the game, we’ll talk later,” I say and he looks very happy about it.

“Thank you,” he turns to the court, “We can talk through anyways.”

“Do you really think that coming here, acting all cute will make it up for the past few days?”

“I’m not acting cute, this is just who I am,” he laughs, “But I know I owe you an explanation.”

“You owe me way more than just an explanation, tourist,” I look around to see if I can spot the model but I can’t see her anywhere.

“Come on, Rooney!” he yells out of nowhere. “I can’t believe this. I’m so pissed right now!”

“Relax,” I laugh because I still find it so hot to see him so invested in football, “It sucks that we are losing.”

“We are not losing, shut up.”

“But we are,” I tease.

“Well, we are losing now but we won’t lose this match. We can’t lose.”

“I know,” I try to play as if I already knew it, “We are going home if that happens.”

He turns to me and raises an eyebrow, “Did you just Google that or someone told you?”

“Hey,” I try to hold my laugh, “The model told me.”

“The model?”

“Cara, the girl that was with me a few moments ago,” I try to find her again but nothing, “I wonder where she is now.”

“I’m the tourist and Niall is the hottie,” he nods, “Do you ever use people’s real names?”

“Why do you have to bring up his name?” I sigh.

“Sorry,” he keeps his eyes on the match, “Come on, ref! He is obviously rooting for Uruguay,” he groans.

“Nice way to change the subject,” I mumble.

“Is it me or you are actually jealous?” he shoves my arm playfully.

“Ew,” I push him, “I’m not jealous.”

“Just admit it already,” he pushes me back.

“What for? So you can freak out and walk out on me?”

“Fair enough,” he seems ashamed, “I’ll explain later, okay?”

“It’s fine,” I lie. The anger threatens to come back with the memory of the things that happened before but I’m willing to forget about it just to have the chance to be with him a little longer. Not because I want to be with him or anything, I just need the chance to get back at him, you know.

I’m starting to get bored and he seems to be so interested in the game so I just sit back and focus on my glass of beer until something better calls my attention. God was seriously on crack when he created this guy. I wonder if his bum is natural or he just spent a lot of hours in the gym. If the gym is the reason, I need to get his personal trainer’s phone number. I want my butt to look as fine as his.