Creepin | Kylian Mbappé

Chapter thirteen-

(Y/n)'s POV

Yesterday was a great day for Ale and me. We met Neymar and instantly became friends with him. He even invited us to dinner tomorrow since he couldn't do it today. He was really interested in getting to know us better, so he thought having dinner together would be the perfect way to do that.  All night long, Ale couldn't contain her excitement over the invitation. She tried not to go back to her middle school and high school phase.

So here we were, the next morning, going through the same exact routine we had to do almost every day. But I swear, each day I started cleaning less and less. I hardly put any effort and couldn't care less if anyone had a problem with the way I cleaned.

I crouched down and poured out the gallon of cleaning disinfectant into the bucket. It took a while for all the liquid to fully come out. After I got up, I tossed the empty gallon of cleaning disinfectant into the trash can. I started swirling the mop around in the fresh cleaning disinfectant, making sure to clean it properly.

"(y/n), I need you to clean something for me," Kylian's head poked through the door's frame, he didn't give me a chance to respond before he left after saying that.

I moved the mop handle, still inside the bucket, and guided it forward. Since the bucket had small wheels, I didn't have to lift it. I slid it wherever Kylian went, as he continued to walk far away until he finally went inside a room. As I hurried, Kylian impatiently glared at me, waiting by the mess he had made.

I placed the mop and bucket right beside him, and he gave me a confused look, "What are you waiting for?"

"Huh?" I stared at him, not understanding what he meant by that.

"Well are you going to clean it up or what?" He rudely asked me, his eyes shifting towards the spill in front of us before locking onto mine once more.

I quickly glanced at the spill, which appeared to be just water. But what could he have done to cause such a mess?

"No, you can do it yourself," I walked away from him, refusing to clean up his mess. It was his responsibility, not mine.

"That's funny, you only clean things for Neymar, right?"

I stopped walking and turned around to look at him. So, he was the one who slammed the door yesterday? He must have seen Neymar and me. "That's different, he didn't want me to clean up his mess so he ended up doing it himself. You must be really stupid if you think I'm going to clean that up for you. Neymar is a gentleman, the opposite of what you are."

Kylian clenched his jaw the moment I called him stupid, and I was expecting him to go off on me, but instead, he remained silent. Then, he did the unthinkable and kicked the bucket, causing the mop to fall and the cleaning disinfectant to spill everywhere, "Now you're going to have to clean that too."

"Are you crazy? I'm not cleaning that," I could feel my anger boiling as I shot him an intense glare. Ugh, I despised him so deeply. He wasn't messing around. The cleaning disinfectant had reached his shoes, but he didn't seem to care.

"Crazy? Maybe. But you would do anything for those ten weeks to turn into nine weeks, remember?"

"No not anymore, there's no point if you're going to act like a douchebag every single day."

Kylian got closer to me, not caring about the cleaning disinfectant soaking his shoes or the wet shoe prints he was leaving behind, "I guess you can say goodbye to that offer then but you still have to clean this up. Your job is to clean not flirt with my teammates."

Flirting? I was about to lose my mind because of this guy.

"I don't care, I'm still not going to clean that up," I crossed my arms, making it clear that I was standing my ground in the argument.

He was an absolute idiot for assuming I'd do anything to shorten the weeks by just one week. He had the audacity to tell me a few days ago that all I had to do was enjoy France and he would consider it. But he lied. Instead, he acted like a child, intentionally making a mess and spilling water everywhere.

Kylian's eyebrows softened as he reached up to touch my cheek, and I was instantly taken aback by his unexpected gesture, "But you're so pretty (y/n), anyone is stupid if they hurt someone as pretty as you." Kylian said the exact same words Neymar told me yesterday, but he added a mocking tone to them.

I moved my face away from his touch when I saw his smirk, "Don't touch me."

"Why? You want it to be Neymar that's touching you?" His eyes fixated on me, filled with the familiar intensity of hatred they always hold.

Alright Kylian, two can play it that way, "Duh, he's so handsome. Who wouldn't want that? I can't say the same thing about you, Kylian. Unfortunately, you're not attractive."

He quickly brushed it off with a laugh, trying to hide his feelings, "I get more girls than Neymar, I'm not ugly."

"You get more girls than Neymar because you probably give them your entire paycheck. Imagine how sad that is? They're only there because of your money, because you pay them to be there by your side. You're practically a loner, none of them genuinely like you. It makes sense why you're seen with different women, you can't find one that truly likes you for you. No wonder they call you a ninja turtle, you're fucking ugly," I snapped at him, anger pouring out of me with everything I had just told him. I knew he'd snap back at me, so I was ready for it.

But it never came, he didn't say anything.

His narrowed eyes widened for a second and his eyebrows lifted just a bit. His sudden change of expression made my anger quickly turn into regret. Kylian blinked twice, and then he walked away, disappearing from my sight.

I closed my eyes and ran my hand through my hair. Why did I say that?

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