Colder than Ice//Neymar Jr

Chapter Two (Isabel's Pov)

My figure skating partner, Jacob, agreed to meet my at the ice rink we were practicing at, around eleven. Which meant I only had a couple hours with the National Team, so I had to get to the stadium early to get some of my work done.

The place was already crowded with different teams filling in and out of the fields. There only were certain times they were allowed to be on there.

My eyes glanced over to the team in yellow.

Brazil.

Marcus was eyeing me since the moment I walked in. "Isa. Keep walking." a familiar voice demanded. My head snapped towards that voice. Christian Pulisic. A forward on the USA team..also one of my closest friends. "Do not play into his games," he muttered, setting his hand on my back to get me to walk toward.

It was too late.

Marcus wanted chaos...and he was gonna get it.

"Haven't seen you in a year, Isabel. Come on, don't I get a hug?" Marcus says loud enough to make his whole team look over at me.

Christian gently pulled me behind him, "fuck off, Marcus." his voice was deep, and harsh.

"Aw, Chris being her guard dog. Or should I say bitch?" he laughs, stepping closer to us. My eyes were drawn to the rest of his team who were standing right behind him.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Antonio and Mateo walking towards us, with Tyler Adams following behind. Their faces were serious...

Once they were close enough, Mateo quickly pushed Marcus backwards, "stay the fuck away from my sister." he ordered. "Or I'll make your life a living hell,"

Now, if I'm being honest, I just wanted these next 2 months to pass quickly without any conflicts, but hell...it's our second day in Brazil and my brothers are already fighting with Marcus. "Isabel is to fuckable to stay away from—"

The moment those words left Marcus's mouth, both my brothers were attacking him. Tyler and Christian were pushing back the other guys from Brazil. What dumbass's they are. I hate Marcus, but I don't care what he says to me, not anymore.

I groan, finally walking towards my brothers and Marcus who were still fighting. Before I could get close enough to pull my brothers away from him, and unfamiliar pair of hands forced me away.

The hand's definitely didn't belong to my brothers, nor Tyler or Christian so who the hell is touching me. My body spun around to see who it was.

A young player from Brazil was looking back at me, "Eu não me envolveria nisso, amor. Melhor ficar fora disso," (I wouldn't get mixed up in that, love. Better to stay out of it.) the player says holding me back.

"Seus meus irmãos! Eu não quero que eles se machuquem!" (Their my brothers! I do not want them getting hurt.) I raise my voice. "And who are you to tell me what to do!" I snapped, talking in English instead.

His eyes shifted, looking at the fight, then back at me, "fucking hell," he mumbled looking over at an older player who was standing there, watching the fight, "Thiago! Stop this." he yelled to him.

I watched has their captain looked back over at the fighting. He sighed, "Enough." he demanded, grabbing Marcus by the shirt and pulling him back, "if I see anymore fighting...I will inform coach. That includes you too, Americans." their captain orders, walking towards the Brazil locker room.

Marcus eyes met with mine as all his teammates began to leave. He started to take a step towards me, but before either my brothers or Christian and Tyler said anything...the young player from Brazil that pulled me away from everyone fighting , stepped in front of me, "não, cara. Fique bem longe dela." (Nah, man. Stay the hell away from her)

"What's it to you?!"

"Cuz I'm not a fucking ass like you, now lets go!" the player ordered, pushing Marcus towards the locker room. Just before he reached the door, his body spun around, looking at the my brothers and I. A grin formed on his face, "it's great to finally meet the Escarra family. I wish the best of luck for you to survive these next two months in Brazil," he said sarcastically, shifting his gaze to me. He knew who I was. Of course he knew who I was...god damn it, "tell your father, mine says hi." he says, quickly winking at me before disappearing into his locker room.

Mateo turned away, throwing his water bottle on the ground, "what a fucking ass,"

My clueless ass was confused as hell. "Anyone gonna tell me what the hell he meant by that?! Why would his father know ours, hell...I don't even know who that player is?"

My two brothers exchanged glances between one another, "that was Neymar Jr." Antonio groaned, "his father is Neymar Santos Sr."

I stared at my older brothers for at least a minute. It wasn't clicking to me. That name meant nothing to me? That was until I put two and two together, "Santos?" I whispered, "as in...the man who got father kicked out of the premier league...the reason we left Brazil?!" I asked with surprise written all over my face.

Here's the thing.

I never liked America. I was never accepted by my classmates, and peers. They made fun of my for my darker skin and my thick accent. That's exactly why I always wished we would've stayed in Brazil where mother lived...and so much more family was.

That's exactly why I was pissed...

"Correct." Mateo sighed.

"What are y'all doing our here! We got practice in two minutes. Let's get going!" a sudden voice yelled from afar.

All our heads snapped towards the person.

Father.

He stood there with his arms crossed.

"Yes, sir." everyone muttered, quickly grabbing their things and began to walk out to the field. And It was an easy day for me as no one needed anything wrapped....