deep blue eyes // Antoine Griezmann

Chapter 17 - Shooting Hoops

As Christmas nears, me and Neymar continue regularly going to the park and playing ball. It's really fun, and despite him being really annoying in some aspects, he generally has become a pretty respectable friend.

It has also become normal for me to sit with the guys during the lunch hour, and none of them seem to mind by now, except for the one boy that it matters if he minds or not- Antoine Griezmann.

He seems to avoid any contact with me- eye contact and verbal contact. He is the master at giving the cold shoulder and often acts like I don't even exist, and I have no idea why.

On the fifteenth of December, ten days until Christmas, after school, I'm at the park with Neymar once again. We're just casually shooting hoops, and I ask him, "Do you know what's up with Griezmann?"

"What do you mean by that question?" he asks, easily swishing a half court.

"I don't know... He just never seems to talk to me or anything. He acts like he hates me, or that I don't even exist. I don't get it. We used to be friendly with each other."

"Oh, that," he rolls his eyes, doing a layup, then sits down on the bench. I sit down next to him. This is generally what we do- when he, being the popular guy, has information that I don't know about things, we sit down on this rickety old bench and he tells me all about it. "It's the stupid girlfriend he has."

I feel the anger in me flare up, before I say, "What? What did Rachel say?"

"He tells us all the gossip she says about you, and he totally believes it. The boys did, before I let you sit with us, and they saw it's all lies, by just simply knowing you. Well, never mind. They believe some of the lies about you, but not enough to hate you for it like Griezmann does. But I don't know if you know, but Griezmann is head over heels for her, even if he doesn't show it very much. He just can't get it in his thick head that obviously she's just being a jerk, and so he resents you and the fact that you sit with us. But that's his problem."

I sit, my hands clutching the seat of the bench, knuckles white. My anger is so indescribable. I verbally curse Rachel out right there, saying the nastiest things I can think about her, not caring if Neymar witnesses this.

But he's got a cocky smirk on his face, and he says simply, "Yeah, you're right."

This makes me feel slightly better, but not better enough. I punch the metal on the bench, and I'm sure that's going to leave a bruise, but I don't care. Not at all. "Stupid Antoine! Why doesn't he see how much of a b- i- idiot she is?! Why doesn't he see? Because she's pretty?"

Neymar shrugs, saying simply, "Sage, you wanna know something?"

I look at him, my eyes blurred by the tears of anger. I try to fight them off, but a tear streams down my cheek. Neymar sees it, digs in his pocket, and hands me a Kleenix.

Why does Neymar always have the most random, most needed items in the deep pockets of his shorts? It's getting kind of weird...

I nod, muttering thanks to him, and wipe my nose and eyes, before saying, "Sorry. What is it that you want to tell me?"

"I wanted to tell you that I know that you really like Griezmann."

This hits me like a brick falling on my chest. "How'd you know?" I demand.

"Why else would you get so mad about this? You generally don't seem to care what people think of you- unless it's what he thinks about you. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

I nod, slowly, and suddenly it feels like a weight has been lifted off my chest, not dropped on it.

"Why do you like him if he's like that?" Neymar asks. "You know, just blatantly believing her like that?"

I sigh, feeling more tears in my eyes, but I quickly wipe them away. "I like him because he's like that. He's so..." I sigh. "Don't make fun of me for this, okay?"

"'Kay," he shrugs.

"He's just always so positive, and he believes people when they say they care about him. And when they care about him, he believes what they say. He's so positive all the time, and he has a hilarious, silly side. But he's also strong, in multiple ways... I mean, you've seen him on the pitch."

He nods, then jokes, "Yeah, I have, but I can't say I'm in love with him, too."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure you don't." I sigh, before continuing. "I'm not exactly too mad at Antoine. I'm more mad at Rachel, for basically getting her way because of beauty and then by convincing her boyfriend to hate me to ensure that no one else gets him. She's so selfish." I swear under my breath. "If you can't tell, I'm kind of fifty percent about to cry and fifty percent about to rage."

"Yeah," he smiles. "I can tell."

I nod, then look at him, studying his facial features, trying to find anything on them that he's not saying, but I find nothing. So I say softly, looking him in the eyes, "Thanks, Neymar."

He nods with a smile. "No problem. Wanna keep shooting hoops?"

I nod, and we go back onto the court, each with our basketballs. It's just what I need to cool my head, in the cool crisp air.

At least for now.

~Author's Note~

Sorry if this chapter is kind of messy, because I kind of wrote it really quickly.

Thanks to everyone reading this, once again. It means a ton. I'm sorry if it seems like it's taking too long for things to really start building with Antoine and Sage, but I'm working on it slowly. I just want to build things up a bit, before we get to some bigger events. But stay tuned for the next chapters, because it's coming, and very soon! (I think!)

Happy New Year's Eve and have a wonderful 2023.