𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎... // 𝙵𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚗 𝚃𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚜

9

~ Author's Note ~

Yesterday I was volunteering at church to serve dinner and there was this fricking lady who kept telling me and correcting me about how I was serving fricking carrots, and she started talking about how awesome sex with her husband was. I was thinking, like, oh my goodness, lady! Shut up! Literally no one cares! No one here wants to hear about it! Like, gosh, I'm glad you had fun last night, good for you, but WE DON'T WANT THE WHOLE RUN DOWN OF IT. Keep it to your freaking self!!!! My GOODNESS !!!

Oh, by the way, next chapter is A SPECIAL BONUS CHAPTER TEN.

So I hope you're real excited for it. 'Cuz I sure am.

TALKING WITH FERRAN

Jadrien's Perspective

I leaned back against the counter, staring at his eyes, saying bluntly, "Ya wanna dance with me?"

He laughed a little, glancing off, away from my eyes, in an uncomfortable way, probably, before saying, "No, I'm sorry... I'm not good at dancing, and it's not really my thing. We can talk, though, if you'd like."

I was too dumb in this moment to realise how much he wanted me to say something like, 'No, no, it's alright, you can leave if you've got other things to be doing,' so he could then make his escape out of there. I was too love struck to realise that the last thing Ferran wanted in that moment was to be sitting there, talking with me. Oh well for him, I guess. "Alright, nice, it sounds good to talk with you! So... uh... I watch you on television, you know."

He smiled and nodded, shifting in his chair, getting more comfortable, as I took another big sip of my alcohol, and said, "You do? How do I play?"

Drunkenness, with me, often makes me brutally honest. Like, way too honest, for both my own good and the good of those around me. That's really the only problem I have when I get drunk. And in this situation, I didn't fail to, not for a second, have that problem. "You play really good, Ferran! I always make sure to watch you, especially. I mean, guys like De Bruyne and Mahrez, and especially Phil, are a lot better than you, by far. But, like, I think the way you play is beautiful. I love watching you! So much. The way you play is charming... Like, you make the whole world... time... it stops. But I don't think that's an everything and everyone thing. I think that's just me. Because I also get butterflies when you come on screen, so... Yeah, just me!" I said, taking another huge sip with a little giggle. "So it might not be the way you play, actually, now that I think about it. It might just be because you're, like, hella hot, boy. Hey, why're you giving me that look for?!"

His eyebrows were knit together, his forehead and cheeks were bright pink, and he was nervously laughing, glancing everywhere but at my intensely looking eyes. He said, "Uh, well, thank you very much, Señorita... for the compliment... compliments...?"

I smiled, leaning my chin on my hand as I leaned my elbow on the counter. "You're welcome, Señor. No need to be so formal, Ferran!" I giggled again, covering my mouth, feeling the effects of the alcohol more and more. "Calling me just Jadrien is fine, you know! In fact, you can call me Jade, if you'd like." I winked at him. "Those people that are closest to me call me by my nickname, Jade."

Then he did something, that, although, somehow, at that time, I still didn't get the message he was trying to send, now I, of course, completely get what he was trying to get across to me. I get now what he was trying to get through to me, through my thick skull. He said with a friendly, completely kind-looking smile, "Okay, Señorita Jadrien." It wasn't mean. He just basically was trying to tell me, You're nice and all, but I don't really want to talk to you, and I especially don't want to become close to you.

Well, he didn't say that, and likely, even if he had, that wouldn't change anything else that I did. That's just kind of the way I am. I push for the boys I want.

He said, obviously not liking my silence, and realising that I wasn't going to be leaving him alone or letting him go himself anytime soon, "So, how are you and Eric, now, in Barcelona? Are things good for you guys?"

I nodded, happy that he was actually talking to me. He was the one who began talking this time. "Eric is doing great. There are a lot of really awesome guys on the team that I think he's really become friends with. Ansu, Gavi, Pedri... you know, they're all his friends. I think he likes Barcelona a lot better than Man City; it all suits him a lot better, and it's more like a family, and more like a home. Even I feel it. I love his friends, too, they're all really great, sweet guys. Plus, I got a friend there in Barcelona. Have you ever heard of the pop singer Isabella Martinez? She's out of Barcelona, and she is gonna go on a tour real soon. She's got some songs on pop modern hits radio stations, but I guess that's only in Spain, huh? Do you listen to Spanish radio, even here in England? 'Cuz if you do, I'm sure you must have heard of her!" My words slurred every so often as I spoke.

I watched as he smiled at me, out of probably something like pity for how dumb I act while I'm drunk, although in my misty eyes, I saw a lovely, friendly, interested smile. "Yeah, I have heard her songs on the radio; I do listen to Spanish music, even here in England. It's not hard to find the right stations. Those are good, catchy songs that she writes, in fact. Is Isabella Martinez a friend of yours in Barcelona?" I was delighted that he actually seemed interested in me, at least enough to respond to my long rambles.

We continued small talk for the rest of the night, and before I finally left, I hugged Ferran Torres, this time, and it wasn't awkward, at least, not to me. I said to him, "Ferran, here's my number, so we can stay in touch!" I gave him the slip of paper, and walked off, feeling like the hottest, luckiest girl on earth.