january fourth | neymar jr

chapter sixteen

Morgan

January 16, 22

  My flight was terrible. The entire time, Sierra was still trying to guess who I was "dating". I think she was annoying the other passengers, too. I didn't have the heart to tell her. 

  "So he's not American?" I shook my head. "He's not," I replied. Sierra and I were in an Uber, driving through New York City. It was beautiful. We were driving through Times Square, and it was busy, as per usual, so we had time to admire the lights and the buildings. I'd been here before, but Sierra hadn't. She wasn't worried about it, though, she was too worried about, well, you know. 

  I started to feel warm. The Uber driver, whose name was Ryder, had the heat up even too much for an LA native. "Hey, can you turn the heat down a little bit?" I said, a little uncomfortably. He turned the heat down from 74 to 70. (Fahrenheit) I had dressed warm, as had Sierra, so that didn't really help. She didn't seem bothered by the heat, though. She took her eyes off of the street and looked at me. "Does he speak English?" She asked. I didn't know whether to answer it. 

  If I told her he didn't, or at least not a lot, she'd know he was Portuguese, because that's the only other language I speak. I looked at Sierra for a second, her eyes had turned back to the road. She was fascinated. 

  "Do I really need to answer that?" I bit my lip. She'd find out eventually, and this guessing game was getting pretty annoying. "No, he doesn't speak English," I shook my head after a moment. Sierra turned to me and widened her eyes. "So he speaks Portuguese! His name starts with an N, and he's your age," she said. I nodded. "I would pull out my phone and look at a list of famous Portuguese people, but that's cheating," she scrunched her nose and looked back out the window.

  She had figured out about three things on the plane. One, that he is my age. That was pretty self explanatory, considering the whole sugar daddy situation. I'm not planning to become a sugar mommy anytime soon either. She had also figured out that he was a brunette. I didn't give it away to her, though. I had a feeling she'd get it soon, but I wasn't sure.

  "Can you please keep it down a little bit, I'm trying to concentrate on driving," Ryder said. I looked at Sierra wide-eyed, and without taking my eyes off her, I muttered, "yeah, sorry."

  I then mouthed "angry much," to Sierra, who was now looking at me again. She pulled her phone out from the pocket of her sweats and texted me. Both of us wore a matching set we had gotten each other for Christmas, purely by coincidence. People had their eyes on us, probably thinking, "what two grown women wear matching clothes to an airport," but we were fine with it.

  Even thought I was sort of well-known in the U.S., it didn't mean I got recognized all the time. It was always either by teenage boys who had seen me in a Nike ad, or grown men who knew me from my brother. Either way, I rarely got attention. I was happy with that.

  Sierra was texting me a bunch of things, like, "what country does he live in," or "how many followers does he have on Instagram," and she even asked when his birthday was. I didn't answer any of her questions. Even though this game was annoying, it was helping me to get my mind off of leaving home, at least for a little while. I wasn't sure how long I'd have to stay in New York, whether my contract lasts until the 2023, or 2025. I was hoping, deep down, that it wouldn't be too long. 

  I thought about my dad for a second when I had a break from Sierra. She was still looking out of the car window, even though we were past Tim es Square. We were driving in Upper Manhattan, and we'd probably be at the new apartment in Kingsbridge in like 20 minutes. The roads were oddly busy tonight, even with it being midnight. I was still on LA time, so I wasn't barely tired.