Helping out her best friend by playing the lead in that music video project for university had seemed like an easy enough feat for art student Lorelai García. Only, it wasn't. Especially since not only Lorelai, but the whole first team of the FC Bar...
Go Barca!!! FCB won La Liga, congrats guys, champagne for everyone!!! :D Let's celebrate, with another chapter, once again in Neymar's POV.
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By the time Neymar fell into bed and turned off the lights in his empty bedroom he was beat. The hours had passed faster than he would have liked with all the fun he'd had today. The fondue was great, the time with his friends and family even greater. And his son being here — always the light of his life.
The bedroom was eerily quiet. Poker had been moved to sleep on the floor outside of Davi's room; as if he would put a dog and his son alone in close quarters, no matter the tiny size of it, and no, Davi, that look won't change anything!
Unfortunately for Neymar, sleep just wouldn't come. Thoughts of the rumours, of the Serbian model in his jersey (he'd seen the picture), but most of all of Lorelai, failed to leave him in peace. Not that he minded the latter intruding his thoughts (or dreams) time and again.
She'd said she'd talk to him later. She hadn't. Well, yet anyways. But it wasn't her lack of a response that disturbed him. His thoughts on their relationship, or lack thereof, were what troubled him these past few days and nights. Whenever he let his mind wander, to be honest. Texting and joking around via app was one thing — meeting her again was another. Or even talking to her over the phone. They both had been pretty busy lately. Was it weird that they communicated every day, even though they weren't anything other than friends? And barely that yet, anyhow. It made him wonder yet again what Lorelai felt about all this, about him. For him, maybe?
Neymar groaned. »I am turning into a chick,« he mumbled into the empty bedroom, remembering Gil's words from before.
It felt as if he'd been lying awake for hours already when his phone buzzed on his night stand, calling him out of his musings. He groaned and crawled over the bed (too big for one person he felt suddenly) to the phone, glad for the distraction.
Lorelai's message was simple yet adorable — the smiley face, of course added several times as per her habit, with hearts instead of eyes, followed by the words: »›Your son is adorable! Sorry if I woke you for this, I just had to say that!‹«
Neymar smiled. For a moment, he contemplated on whether to reply or not. Ah, what the hell, he thought. Might as well. »›Thanks, and you didn't wake me. Can't sleep anyways.‹«
A short pause, then the phone beeped again. »›Okay then. Just got home from work and tucked myself into bed. Everything all right?‹«
She's in bed..., he thought. A picture of her, under the covers, phone in hand, came to his mind. Is she wearing PJs or something else, or maybe nothing at all...? He put his hand on his forehead. Not the time to think dirty.
He looked at the clock on his phone. 3.18 AM. All right, he may have fallen asleep sometime during his musings then. »›Yeah, everything's fine. Just restless. So you had a long day? You OK?‹«
