cruel summer | PEDRI GONZALEZ

[33] rodrygo

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MARISOL's POV

my solution to all this was drinking at the club. the first one wasn't enough when people started recognizing me so i came to another place.

it's way farther than i wanted to be but it's fine by me because everyone here is way more drunk don't seem to care about a thing.

i wish i was like them.

i'm only a few drinks in at a small booth.

although company would be nice; if i'm gonna go out with my friends i don't wanna involve them in my misery and ruin their fun. that being the whole reason for this solo trip. though, they do have my location so hopefully they don't question it if they find out.

the music is so loud i can literally feel my heart skip a beat.

or maybe it's because i just made eye contact with rodrygo.

the hell is he doing in barcelona anyways?

he's at the bar with other friends i've never seen but maybe for the better when he turns his head the same time i was looking straight forward to see if i could order anything else.

he doesn't make a face at me, he doesn't do anything actually.

maybe i'll just go to the other bar past the crowd.

"hi." well, i was going to pick up my bag from under the table, but the moment i heard his voice, i picked my head back up to meet his eyes. "hi, rodrygo."

he's the last person i thought to see here. "andas sola? (you're alone?)"

i nod in response because i feel so awkward in the moment. "can i get you a drink then?" what am i supposed to say to that?!

then i remember, i have no problem with rodrygo, any of them really. "why not."

he tells me to follow him so i do at the same bar he was at a moment ago. "where'd your friends go?"

"they were leaving when i saw you. i can't imagine what'd they say if they saw that i invited you over."

"does that mean they aren't fans?"

"if only you knew how much they dislike your dad." ouch. "get new friends, you seem better than that." except we both know he is. "pues gracias, messi. (well thank you, messi)"

"i have a name, y'know?" suddenly i regret joining him. "what? you don't like it?" define like.

i give him a longing stare before finally deciding it's not worth it. "gracias por la oferta pero mejor me voy. (thanks for the offer but it's better i go)"

"espere (wait), marisol," the second i turn my back at him he gets ahold of my hand. i'm not just doing it for the reason that he slightly offended me, i'm doing it because i really don't wanna be caught with someone like him... but more so the team he plays with. "please have a drink with me, i'm not like that i promise i-"

"you really don't owe me an explanation, rodrygo. i just... i think it's best we avoid getting caught."

i refuse to stay up and cry because of an article i come across.