deep blue eyes // Antoine Griezmann

Chapter 15 - Neymar

For the next about week and a half, nothing really big happens, other than the fact that Rachel never seems to shut up about Antoine Griezmann, and the fact that I feel pretty close to a complete state of depression.

So, yeah, all in all, nothing really big.

It seems like, too, that the only time that Rachel even talks to me at all is when she's talking about Griezmann. Whenever she does, I get sick.

I've been sick a lot lately, as you may have guessed.

Recently, Rachel herself has spread rumors about me, including that I gossip about certain people, and what I say about them, or that I'm always out with another guy every night.

It's really annoying, but recently, I've decided to stop caring about her and anyone that cares about her.

There's only, like two people who care about her that I also care about, and that's Elizabeth and Antoine.

I'm feeling really lonely all the time, and I just basically do everything by myself. In Health, I stare at the back of Griezmann's head, and I just think about how he'll never be mine. Sound pretty depressing, right? Yeah, I'm feeling like crap.

I haven't been going to watch the boys practice after school with the girls. I just get on the city bus, and walk home from there.

My life sucks. So yeah, fun.

Christmas is coming, too, which just makes everything better. Totally.

Not.

All I can think about is spending Christmas with Griezmann, which I know will never happen, but you can't hurt a girl for imagining. He'll probably be kissing Rachel under the mistletoe on Christmas morning.

Me, bitter? Bitter? Where would anyone ever get that idea? I'm the least bitter person I know! I'm not bitter.

There's also, of course, a Christmas dance, which I assume I will not be attending, unless some circumstances change, and they change fast. Because I haven't been hanging out with any of my friends, and Griezmann has gradually been paying less and less attention to me. It's also as if he doesn't even know who I am again.

It's not uncommon for me these days to cry myself to sleep in bed, because nothing is going right. Nothing. Nothing is going right for me.

I know I need to get my act together, though. My grades, which weren't even good to start with, have been dropping, and I've had less of a will to run or play basketball or football at the park, because there's hardly a time there's not someone I know that I could come across. And nobody really has good feelings for me, so being around them is never very pleasant.

On this chilly Saturday morning, though, I really need to go out, so I grab my football and run to the park, praying the chilly weather will fend off the chances of any other students being there.

Much to my dismay, though, when I get there, there is one student from my school, who really seems to be around here a lot. In fact, almost every single time I come here on a Saturday, he's here.

None other than the famously hot and attractive, Neymar. Yeah, maybe I could get with him, since Griezmann isn't available.

As if. He's way too good for me.

He's sitting on the bench in between the basketball court and the tiny football pitch- it's more like a dingy little field covered with weeds. But it's supposed to be a pitch, I think. He's on his phone, but looks up when I start doing some simple practicing.

"Slutty Sage?" he says, a laugh in his voice. That's been his new nickname for me lately. This is the closest I've ever been to popular- the popular boy has a stupid rude nickname for me.

"Don't call me that."

"Jeez, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

"Nah, I just don't like that name. Go figure."

He chuckles a bit, shaking his head, and drops his phone in the pocket of his loose shorts. "Wanna one-v.-one?"

I look up, eyebrows raised. "Not really?"

"C'mon, I'll go easy on you."

"No, you really don't have to. I just want to be left alone."

"Well I don't want to leave you alone. Sorry. One-v.-one, you have no choice." Without warning, he comes up behind me, steals the ball, and scores. "Oh yeah," he throws a grin at me. "I forgot; I said I'd go easy."

I sigh, and somehow, I end up playing one-v.-one football at the park with the most popular guy in the school. Of course, he has his stupid comments, but I just ignore them until he stops making them.

Finally, he plops back down on the bench, though, and tosses my football to me, saying casually, "Sit down next to me."

I shake my head and ask, "Why don't you hate me, like everyone else does?"

"Sit down," he winks. "And I'll tell you."

I sigh. He's annoying. He tries so hard to be charming, and he succeeds so well, and that's what makes him charming. I sit down in the bench next to him, spinning the football in my hand. "Yeah?" I ask. "Why don't you hate me?"

"You've got a nice personality. And besides, all the reasons that people hate you are dumb, because they're all rumors made up my Grizou's stupid girlfriend."

I can't help from grinning. I just can't. Neymar, the Neymar, just called Rachel stupid. He sees my grin, and we share a knowing look.

"Speaking of Griezmann, he used to sort of be your friend, didn't he?" he asks.

"Yeah, sort of..." I sigh, looking down and scuffing my sneaker on the grass.

"Yeah, he used to like you alright, and I think he still does."

I look up, interested. "What makes you think that?"

"Sometimes he zones out. He's always been prone to randomly zoning out, but I feel like I see him zoning out more on you than, say, Rachel Ericsson."

"Really?"

"Yup," he grins at me, with a wink, and says, "You always eat lunch alone."

"Yeah, what about that?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to sit with me at lunch, with the guys."

Again, I can't help from grinning. This is awesome. I must be dreaming; please pinch me, because this can't be real.

I don't like Neymar, but boy, is this true luck. I don't even care if he's got some weird plan of picking me up as his girlfriend or something, because this is an awesome situation.

We share another look, I nod, and he says, "Wanna one-v.-one basketball?"

I nod, with a grin. "Sure, Neymar."

As I walk hope, sweaty from playing basketball with Neymar, I can't help but smile, because all the sudden, things aren't so bad.

I mean, I've got only the most popular, hot, handsome boy in the school on my side at least, now.