C O D E W O R D | neymar jr

XXIX

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I began to finish up my work, confidence running through my body as I modelled for yet another luxury brand. My pearly white teeth were beaming at the camera as I felt the flashes illuminate my tanned skin, still somewhat pale after spending the past few months in Paris.

I heard the crew begin to pack up, which usually meant that everything was over, so I ran over to the photographer. "Did I do good?" I asked, and he nodded while uploading the photos to the computer.

It was absolutely perfect. My body was contorting into different poses, and the clothes were sticking to my figure perfectly. Each curve was highlighted as my hair fell perfectly, falling just below my shoulders, and landing softly on my back.

I quickly rushed towards my phone, putting on the PSG game that I unfortunately had to miss and plugging in my headphones. The game had just restarted after halftime, and it was currently 2-1, which calmed my nerves slightly as PSG had an advantage.

I began to carefully undress, being deliberate and careful with each movement so as to not rip the most expensive fabrics. I turned my back, completely content, until I heard the commentators speak, "Neymar has been taken down!"

With a sudden sense of urgency, I rapidly turned my back to the screen while ripping the clothes off, not even caring about the fabric anymore as I rushed to put on the basic outfit I had brought. I quickly grabbed my phone before running out of the studio, not even saying a word to anyone as I watched the events unfold.

I ran as fast as I could to my car, the heels I decided to wear crashing against the concrete and my fingers fumbling in my bag as I searched for my keys. I fumbled slightly shoving them in the door, throwing my shoes in the back as I knew I couldn't drive in heels.

My heart pounded as I pushed my way through the traffic, knowing that the Paris trip would extend my ten-minute journey into an hour. I sat in traffic, beeping the horn at the other cars like they were somehow responsible for not moving out of my way.

I ran into the hospital, still shoving my heels onto my feet. After what felt like hours of agonising travel, I parked my car on a random road without even thinking of the potential ticket I'd be charged with.

"Do you know what room Neymar Da Silva Santos is in? I'm his-"

"We're not allowed to let fans in." She interrupted as I pursed my lips at her comment. I grabbed my phone, showing her the photos of us together, praying it would somehow prove my innocence. "Are you related?"

"No, but I'm his-"

"Listen, we aren't allowed to let in mistresses. If you come here with a marriage licence or as a relative, then we'll let you into the room. You're welcome to wait." Ignoring her snarky voice, I placed myself in the waiting room and prayed that everything was okay."

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After what felt like an eternity, I finally awoke to commotion towards the front door as a few players from PSG had arrived. I walked towards them, still groggy from the uncomfortable nap I took, trying to collect my thoughts and prepare myself for the fact the man I dreaded seeing was there. "Anastasia?"

I recognised his voice as he appeared from his other teammates, Kylian. "They won't tell me where he is. Do you know what room he's in?" I responded, trying to maintain civility with the man I wanted to punch in the face.

"Room 207."

I bolted towards the elevator, giving the receptionist a dirty look as she glared at me. I continued to check my phone, yet a wave of disappointment hit as I realised he still hadn't replied. Why wouldn't he respond?

I took a deep breath before pushing the door open, witnessing Neymar in the hospital bed with a cast on his right foot. A weak smile formed as he saw me; somehow his face was still perfect. I wrapped my arms around him, our bodies melting together in a warm embrace.

Despite his pain, he pulled me tighter, his fingers tugging at the fabric of my shirt, and I finally felt at peace. My heart soothed as my worries softened, the hospital gown crinkling as it touched my skin.

Finally, I was home.

Until I eventually lightly punched his arm, still angry about the lack of text. "Why didn't you text me back?" I furiously asked, my eyebrows creasing as they tightened together. "They wouldn't let me in, and you were just sitting here!"

"I forgot my phone at the stadium." He attempted to justify as I crossed my arms, dramatically overplaying the situation. "I would've texted someone asking if they would get my phone, but obviously that wouldn't work."

"You have a whole hospital full of phones!" I argued, my anger residing yet still present as I had to worry about him for the last few hours. "Plus, you will never believe who is here to say hi..." I whispered as we both leaned in to gossip. "Kylian!"

"Mbappé?"

No, the other Kylians we know and collectively dislike!" I rolled my eyes, letting out a deep breath at his sarcasm, which managed to be both the best and worst thing at times. "What is he doing here?"

At that moment, I heard the door open and collective cheers for the injured footballer, my teeth grinding at the fact I was even in the same room as him. Discourteously, I shoved myself out of the room, feeling Kylian's heavy footsteps follow me.

I placed myself along the wall, watching as the man of my nightmares walked towards me, a worrisome look on his face as he began to speak. "How's Belle?" I shrugged, attempting to end the one-sided conversation. "I know she's with you, and I'm truly sorry."

"No." I interrupted. "You do not get to cheat on her; compare her to me, then come and apologise." Be a man and go apologise to her face. Or be a better man and leave her alone!" I justified my criticism.

"Anastasia." He stepped closer, my eyebrows raising in the process as my eyes darted all over him, assuring me his sudden movements wouldn't end like last time. "I love her, but she's not..." He paused for a second, rubbing his mouth. "You."

"Oh no!" I mocked, beginning to walk away yet still feeling his hand on my wrist, his obvious strength overpowering me. "Listen, I don't know why you're so obsessed with me, but I know I have a man more obsessed with me in that room."

He seemed slightly surprised at my new attitude and extremely disappointed that I didn't fall into his arms at the opportunity to fuck him. The noticable expression of discontent meant my decision was right: refusing to be an object of his desires. Rather, I had grown into my own person.

"I guess money did change you...

"Money didn't change anything, I guess I just don't think the world is as good as me anymore." I stated, pulling him off me before walking away. Noticing a gleaming light appearing from someone's hand, I realised that I had truly messed up.

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A/N: The last dialogue links to chapter 17 if you all forgot. I've got exams in four weeks :(