Neymar x reader- boundless pontential -

chapter 7

Their short introduction on stage ended up being the least of their worries. What came after was far, far worse.

The heavily accented lady didn't lie when she said they'd have to dance. But *this*, everything about this was just pure torture.

Short after every group debuted, they were all designated a choreographer and given a short dance they'd have to film in two days. Eight of the videos submitted will be chosen and those will end up being the ones that get to pass the preliminaries.

Fairly simple, y/n thought back then. She never thought it was possible to be so wrong. The choreography was too complicated and unique to be mastered in two days, she'd need atleast a week.

"Wrong, wrong, wrong" Miss Leila sing-songed. "You have to put more focus on the hips, the hips I say, the hips".

She said everything like that, repeating herself at least three times in the way you'd sing a nursery rhyme. It felt mocking at first, but with the way she smiled when they did good, and scrunched her eyebrows at their mistakes (which was most of the times), y/n just chalked it up to her being eccentric.

By the time they were done, Y/n was a panting, sweaty mess. She left the practice room on wobbly feet and leaned on Noha for support. "That was fucking hellish" she bit out.

"Yeah, but I think we'll get the hang of it by tommorow" Noha said soothingly.

"We don't have much of a choice now, do we?" Jules' face was filled with frustration. Y/n knew that feeling well, she felt it now and absolutely hated it. But that's what she'll use as fuel: the frustration and the hate that comes with it.

"Let's eat dinner and then go to bed, we'll wake up early and practice before Miss Leila gets there".

Agreeing with Natalie, they all split ways into their own rooms.

"Huh?".

There was a yellow box in her bed. A green stripe in the middle of it that vaguely reminded her of-

Brazil.

No way.

"I'm reaching" she whispered to herself. Definitely reaching, yep, there's no way this has anything to do with Neymar. Nope.

Nevertheless, her hands were fervently picking up the box. She slowed down, putting her right hand on the lid. "What if it's a bomb?" She questioned, lifting it despite her worries.

"Or like something poisonous...should I text him first?" she kept going. "But it'd be awkward if it wasn't his, maybe it's a part of the competition".

Just then, she heard her phone ding. She carefully put the box down, skidding back to her phone without lifting her faze from that box.

She picked her phone up, freezing at the number that popped up. Underneath it was a short message.

Try my shirt, maybe you'll see the difference.

Curiously, she finally opened the box up, practically gasping at what she saw.

It felt expensive. Way better quality than any shirt she's ever held, the bright yellow and green was exactly the same as the box's. And above all else, his name on the back made her shiver.

Number 10. Neymar jr.

She quickly flung it to the bed. The scent hanging off it had already made its way into her nose. Flustered, she couldn't help but recognize it. It's how he smells like, this isn't just some t-shirt, it's Neymar jr's.

"Well, I'm guessing this is the reaction he was hoping for".

"Ah!" Y/n jumped.

"Could you not scream? It's awfully late".

"Alesia!?".

She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, smiling at her sarcastically. Y/n tried rubbing the fatigue from her eyes, she was clearly hallucinating.

"It's horrid to see you too".

Fumbling for words, y/n managed to spit something out. "What are you doing here?".

Alessia entered her room as if she owned it. Walking past y/n to sit on the bed. "It's surprisingly tidy, I was expecting a pig's stall".

Finally coming back to her senses, y/n took up a pillow and used it as some type of shield. "Again, what the actual hell are you doing here?".

Alesia let out a derisive snort. Unlike Miss Leila, it wasn't hard to tell that she was clearly mocking y/n. "The short answer is to observe. The long answer is a bit more complicated".

"Well, I want the answer that actually explains shit. Like how your boss has my number, knows where my hotel room is and sends me his- *his garmets*".

Another snort. "Garments? What an outdated term".

Alessia stood back up. "I'm afraid I can't give you the answer, what I can give you is this". She handed her a small envelope.

Begrudgingly, y/n picked ut out of her hand. "What's this?".

"My number", she almost burst laughing at the incredulous expression y/n made. "That and a vip pass to the deluxe room at the party you'll attend".

"The party?".

Alessia's smile stretched into a full smirk. "Well, that's if you pass the preliminaries. Losers don't get to party".

"What?".

"You'll understand sooner or later. Time for me to bid you adieu".

"Wait!". She waved a bit, closing the door behind her.

Collapsing on her bed, y/n could do nothing but glance at the envelope. What just happened?

She then took a tentative look back to the tshirt, and finally her phone. Picking ut up, she read the message over and over, practically ingraining the words into her brain. It is different, she conceded. However-

I'm not your wife, she typed in, pressing send before she lost the balls to do so. She quickly turned the phone off. "I was half asleep just a few minutes ago, but now I can't even think of lying down" she sighed.

"Just what does he want from me?".