More than Friends (Neymar Jr. Fanfic)

II. Chapter 7: Pillow Talk

"Rosalina! Calm. Down." He held his hand out to me in reassurance, but that only made me angrier. Memories of last night flooded to my head, causing a migraine to resurface. I gripped the lamp in my right hand like a weapon. I doubt Neymar could hurt me, as a matter of fact he looked completely terrified of me. But I was on high alert, and angry. Who that anger was directed to would take a few minutes for me to figure out. Stay tuned. 

"Calm down? Are you insane right now?" I screamed. I put my free hand over my eyes to block the sunshine that threatened to beat down on my eyelids.

Well, to start things off, I felt like complete and utter shit. My hair surrounded me like a lion's mane, tumbling down my back in untamed tangles. My brain was pounding hard enough to  tear right through my skull, and I felt a soar pain between my legs. Neymar was wearing nothing more than underwear and socks (to my amusement). I was using the sheets to cover myself up, and I looked down at the shreds of clothing that decorated the polished wooden floor.

I cheated on Julian. The realization settles in my head, and I slumped back onto the familiar silk sheets in defeat. What was I going to say? Why was I acting so stupid? What was I going to do about my hysteric sister and alcoholic brother?

Tears threatened to spill from my eyes but I shoved them back. I think what was even more disturbing then the fact that, well, that had happened last night was the fact that I enjoyed it. A lot. And I hated myself for that. A lot.

I open my mouth to say something else, then think better of it and rest the lamp gently on the floor. For all I knew it could have cost more than my annual health insurance. "You are so lucky I have a hangover or I swear to God you wouldn't have feet to play football with right now."

"Well don't make it sound like I attacked you," he says, taken aback.

"Well if you really evaluate the situation-"

"Evaluate the situation?" He scoffs.

"Yes. You took advantage of me, not the other way around." I argued. I knew I was just as responsible as he was, but for some reason blaming him made me feel like everything wasn't my fault. My entire life was crumbling because of choices I made, and yes it was unfair, but I was tired of making mistakes.

"You got drunk, remember that?" He retaliates.

"Yes, I got drunk. Yes, I was stupid and didn't know what I was doing," I concluded, flustered.

"Really? Because it seemed to me like you were having the time of your life," he teases. Underneath his retort I could see a look of hurt beneath his eyes. My cheeks grow red as I pick up a pillow and pelt it at his face. He laughs despite himself, his eyes lighting up. I felt my stomach swarm with butterflies as my mind attempts to remember where that smile came from. Instead my mind was bombarded black hole, just like whenever I tried to remember something beyond a year ago.

Damn him.

"If it's fair, I had the time of my life to Rosa," he says softly. Something in his tone indicated that that wasn't a flirt. As much as I wanted to believe him, I had just slept with someone who had the attention of hundreds of girls. I was just another number. Granted, I didn't believe that I did feel anything. 

Or did I?

I pushed those blasphemous thoughts away. I couldn't tell Julian about this, or Mari. Well, I'm sure Mari wasn't ever going to talk to me again, and my own brother was being just as stupid as I was. Helena would probably listen, but I was unsure of what her reaction would be. And Benedict definitely was not an option. I rest my head in my hands and sighed. I knew the dangers about keeping secrets. What was in the dark eventually came out into the light, as people would say.

Whoever made up that mantra really needed a new hobby.

Guilt rode on my chest as I grabbed another fistful of tangled roots and pulled on them. Hard. What was I going to do?

"Look, don't worry about it. I'll be quiet about this if you want me to. Then again, if someone in the media finds out-"

"Yeah, I know," I interrupt. "Cameras, paparazzi, et cetera. The second my brother signed for Santos there wasn't a reporter in São Paulo that didn't follow him to the grocery store."

"Try being followed to the bathroom," Neymar quips, sitting on the edge of the bed beside me. I tried to shrug off the body heat he was emanating by pulling the sheets tighter around myself. Did he have to be so... Him?

"Yeah, well, I doubt your life is that complicated." I said.

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, it must be so hard to separate your gold from your diamonds" I mocked. His face twists into a frown, not amused.

"I was just as poor as every little kid growing up in Mogi when I was younger," he responded. Mogi, my head does pounds in the slightest. He grew up in Mogi das Cruzes? I think I would know if a millionaire soccer legend had grown up in the same town as me. Right?

Right?

"Yeah, well look at your life now!" I point to his closet full with clothes that still had the price tags on them. It had more commas then I had boxes of Cheerios. He shrugs, not willing to continue the conversation.

I glanced at the intricate clock on the bed side table and groaned. It was minutes to 11, and I had a shift at 1.

I could change back into my clothes... But they were... Not intact. Something told me that roaming the Barcelona streets with nothing more than a bed sheet wasn't going to work either.

"Look, I know this is weird, but you wouldn't happen to have any...clothes would you?" I ask.

He stares down at me in nothing more than bedsheets and gives a warm smile. "Yeah, I have some of my sister's clothes from when she comes to visit." My mind relapses.

"You have a sister?"

"Yes, she's younger than me, Rafaela." He pauses as he says my name, almost waiting for a reaction I didn't have. He had been doing this since we met by the fountain a few weeks ago, and as of now I was more confused then ever.

He leaves the room and returns a few minutes later, tossing me a pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt. I quickly run into the bathroom and change, piling my hair up into a barely manageable ponytail and rush out, grabbing my shoes. 

I don't wait to see his reaction as  I bolt away in guilt and shame.

*******************

It has been months, years, centuries since I've updated. And for that, I apologize. There has been so much going on with school, social life and home stuff that I haven't had the time.