(18+) RED (Complete)

Ch. 13: Hold my hand

Gabby smirked devilishly when she met me in the lobby. She had a glass of wine on the bar in front of her that was almost empty, and a small bowl of peanuts that was untouched. It looked like she'd been more engulfed with a soccer match on TV than to even notice it was there.

"Lost it yet?" she snickered, and I scolded her with my eyes.

"No!" I hissed through my teeth, but Gabby just shrugged and turned back to the TV.

"I'd never really understood this game, but man, have you seen these guys? Hot damn! And compared to American football where the players are covered in all kinds of equipment, all the goods on these guys are pretty visible. Look!"

There was a brief closeup of one of the players, and she was right. There were perky asses, jiggling bulges and toned shoulders and chests on all of them, in addition to defined abs that were at display almost every time someone scored and they showed off with some mad flexing. Unfortunately, there weren't that many goals, but still.

"I'd like to set my teeth into one of those juicy thighs," Gabby groaned and bit her fist. "Just look at that guy. He can fuck me in every angle whenever he wants."

"Ronaldo?" I read out loud, the name printed on his t-shirt. Then I shook my head to snap back to reality.

"Michael is waiting in the car. Get your ass moving, bitch."

"Car? No limo?"

"He's trying not to draw attention," I replied as the matter of factly and rolled my eyes.

"Ah, makes sense."

"And that Ronald guy has nothing on Michael," I added with a scoff.

"It's Ronaldo, and I think we can discuss that," she mumbled, and I abruptly turned, placed my hands on my hips and glared at her.

"If you say that one more time, Gabs, you can consider yourself my ex-friend," I snapped, which caused her to take a step back and hold her hands up in protection against my sudden angry outburst.

"Okay! You're right. Michael is hotter."

I started walking towards the entrance again, and Gabby followed suit.

"But put leather pants and buckles on that stallion, and Michael's got some serious competition," she spoke through her teeth.

"I heard that!"

Then she said something I didn't hear because the doors slid open, and the warm air and setting May sun hit us with their blending presence. And as soon as my eyes had adapted to the bright light, I saw a uniformed man waving us over to a Mercedes with dark tainted windows.

"Over there," I said, and pulled Gabby after me. And soon after, we were seated next to Michael in the back seat, with me squeezed in the middle.

"So, where are we going?" Gabby asked, like this was something that happened every day.

"Minneapolis Sculpture Garden."

"I thought you said he didn't want to draw attention?" she whispered and elbowed me.

Michael chuckled.

"You're right. But there's not that many things I can do without getting surrounded by fans and journalists, so be prepared for some commotion. I have a whole security team ready, though. No one will get close to us unless I give them permission."

"Nice."

"Oh, my God!" Gabby and I exclaimed in choir.

"Chill, Mimi. You heard what he said. No one will disturb us. You'll be fine."