Enamoured《 Neymar Jr

thirty

NEYMAR'S POV:

As cliché as it sounded, I genuinely did want to ensure that Taraya enjoyed herself. After all, I had promised Niall and the others that I would look after her with the utmost care and pompousness and the poor girl had clearly been through hell and back. Wasn't it frightening how you can fall deeply in love with someone after such a brief period of time. Sometimes the passion I felt for Tarry scared me; I had never fallen in love before and the sudden experience was daunting. But mostly, I just felt a sense of bliss and contentment. I just wished that I didn't have a feeling that this joy was going to be maliciously ripped away from me all too soon. It was a nagging feeling that constantly interrupted my thoughts; an unpleasant parasite just waiting to pounce. My thoughts got the better of me, so I couldn't help but following Taraya around lovingly like a lost puppy (which was basically what I was to be honest) and attempted to protect her, fearing danger from the smallest of matters. I had always wondered how love worked, how you could be so utterly confident that you wanted to spend every second of your life with a certain person who may have once just been a complete stranger. Now that I understood fully, I did not want to lose that experience.

Taraya got out of the car before I could escort her out like a gentleman, shivering in the bitter night air. It was a chilly yet beautiful night, glimmering stars lighting up the dark. The scenery was absolutely magnificent, however the hotel seemed to distort the natural setting that the area had to offer. It was enormous and cosmopolitan, looking severely out of place. I would have expected such architecture to be found in cities such as Dubai and New York, not a Mediterranean city like Barcelona.

"Well that's an...interesting building," Taraya commented, at a loss for words. I felt the same way.

"It sure is," I agreed, "Now come on in, let's go."

I placed my hand on the small of her back and gently propelled her towards the front door. The hotel did not seem to be part of any American or British chain, but it did not boast any Spanish heritage either.

'El Sharq' the building proudly boasted.

"Looks fancy," I said.

"Must be. Apparently even the royal family will be here today." she replied.

"How did you know?" I questioned curiously.

"I searched it up on google," she answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world, which it probably was.

I should've guessed that the media must have been informed, since the paparazzi swarmed the hotel grounds, oddly resembling tortoises with all their camera equipment assembled uncomfortably on their backs. I truly felt sorry for the amount of discontentment that is shown towards the 'paps'. Surely the celebrities hadn't noticed that if you were to gain fame and money, the world may want to intrude on your outings? Still, I understood why they were sometimes criticised. It was rather irritating to have your privacy invaded.

For example, I felt like having a Kanye West 'moment' towards everyone, shouting loudly at them all. Cameras flashed blindingly in both of our faces, blocking my peripheral vision. Frantically, I clutched Taraya's hand, or what I thought to be was her hand. Questions were being fired accusingly at us from every direction, languages ranging from English to Spanish to Portuguese.

"Taraya, is it true that you're pregnant with Mr Da Silva?" a reporter asked. Tarry flinched and ignored the man, stonily facing the back of my head as we both desperately tried to make our way through the swarm of people.

"Neymar, rumour has it that Messi may transfer over to Chelsea and depart from Barcelona within a year. To what extent do you agree with this statement? Is it true that he is unsatisfied with Barça's recent incompetence?"