You Before Me |Neymar Jr.|

Bonus 1

Haha I'm back :)

Natalia's POV

"You're going to do great, don't worry," Neymar smiled, opening the door to the building. I nodded, wiping my hands on my slacks nervously. 

"What if I mess up, I can't screw this up," I panicked, cracking my knuckles. 

"Be positive Talia, you'll be fine. Just breathe," he said, holding my hands in his. I looked into his eyes, following his breathing. 

"That's it, now what are you going to do?"

"Kick this interview in the ass," I muttered, smoothing down my baby hairs. 

"That's my girl," Neymar grinned, pulling gently on my ponytail. I hate it when he does that. I made a face at him and made my way to the elevator. 

"Break a leg!" he called, waving to me, a smirk on his face. 

"The only leg that's broken is gonna be yours when I get back," I shot back, just as the elevator doors shut. 

I let out a breath of air, trying to compose myself. Natalia you got this, I said to myself, pushing the door open. 

"Hello, are you here for an interview?" a middle-aged lady asked, her voice thick with a New Zealand accent. 

"Yes, my name is Natalia Rousseau."

"Take a seat, someone will call you shortly. I nodded, taking a seat in the empty waiting room. This morning I was actually excited to get dressed, this blazer is super cute. I was in my own world, thinking of random things when I heard my name. My head snapped up and I quickly stood up. 

"Come this way," a young woman dressed in a fitted purple dress smiled, holding the door open. Her hair was quite interesting, it was styled in a huge bun with a giant brooch on the side. She stopped in front of a huge wooden door and knocked. A faint 'come in' was heard before she opened it. 

"Ahhh, Ms. Rousseau, welcome," a man greeted, standing up from his seat. "My name is William Taylor, but you may call me Liam. I'm the President of Interpol."

"Pleasure to meet you sir," I smiled, shaking his hand. I hope he doesn't notice how sweaty they are. 

"Have a seat," he motioned to the chair in front of his desk. 

"Now I understand, Ms. Rousseau, that you are here to apply for a job. But as you may guess, I have to ask about your previous job."

I nodded wearily, I knew this was coming. I explained to him what happened between my father and I, everything with the FBI and getting demoted. He listened and nodded, asking a few questions here and there. 

"Alright, I see that it wasn't anything on your part. I'll trust you on this. But I have to ask, did you file a complaint against your father?"

"I did. I can't have him doing the same thing with others, it'll jeopardize the entire bureau."

"Very well. I see you have a degree in criminology and an Associates degree in psychology," he mumbled, skimming over the CV I had written. 

"How many languages do you speak?" he asked, looking up.

"5 sir, English, French, Italian, and a bit of German and Arabic."

He nodded again, looking back at the paper. 

"Do you know how to use a gun?"

"Yes, I have a license."

"Good."

He was quiet again. And I was getting nervous again. 

"Say you're coming up to a house. There's a car parked out front, but you don't know if the suspect is inside. What do you do?" he asked suddenly, catching me off guard. I stared at him for a moment. I quickly gathered my thoughts before replying. 

"Scan the number plate through the records."

"It's a match now what?"

"Uh, um - check to see if the engine of the car is still hot."

"It's warm, then what?"

"Approach and execute the plan."

"You have no backup, now what?"

"Screw the backup, I have a gun and common sense," I blurted out. Well shit, there goes my job. 

He stood up abruptly, causing me to follow his actions. He studied me for a moment before breaking into a grin. 

"Congratulations, you've met my expectations. Welcome to Interpol."

Holy shit, I did it. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

"So, how'd it go?" Neymar asked, opening the door for me as I walked up to the car. I shrugged, putting on my seatbelt. Time to put my master plan into action. 

"Not so good?" he sighed, giving me a sympathetic look as he sat in the drivers seat. I sat quietly, letting him drive me to the stadium. 

"Why are we here?"

He sighed, rolling his eyes, "The boys miss you."

"Are you jelly?" I asked, poking his cheek. 

"No, they already know you're mine," he mumbled, pressing his lips against my temple. I giggled, wrapping my arms around his waist as we walked towards the locker rooms. 

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked as we stopped in front of the door. He was worried I was very upset about the interview. Haha, if only he knew. 

"Natlia! Did you get the job?!" Kimpembe asked as soon as he saw me. I looked down, fiddling with m jacket zipper.  Everyone noticed my mood and immediately started consoling me. I crossed my arms, slipping a hand into the inside pocket and pulling out the envelope. They stared at me in confusion before I grinned. 

"I got the job idiots!"

A chorus of cheers erupted as everyone celebrated. I looekd up at Neymar who pouted at me. He wasn't happy. 

"Are you mad I played you," I asked in a baby voice, cupping his cheeks. He started to reply but I mushed his cheeks. 

"Sorry what was that, I can't understand."

"I cat belif you dif daf."

"Huh? What was that?"

Neymar groaned, grabbing my waist and hoisting me over his shoulder. 

"Hey! Put me down!"

"No."

He walked out to the field where the rest of the boy had gone as I hung limply. I watched the floor way as he walked, the white lines standing out against the green. Neymar placed me down gently in front of the goal post. 

"You're goalie." he smirked, running back to the penalty line. 

I hate being goalie.