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"we're married now, did you forget that?"
luara rolled her eyes with an annoyed groan, continuing scrolling through her phone, "kind of hard to since it happened quite recent."
"so stop ignoring me." he ripped her phone from her hands, locking it and stuffing it in his pocket, "fucking ipad kid, always on your phone."
she lifted her head to face him, angry expression on her face, "you always start an argument when you're bored. fucking child. give it back."
"no, luara, you've been on it this whole time. i wanna talk to you." he grabbed her wrist, stopping her from digging through his pocket and taking her phone back.
"i've spent a whole month talking to you, i wanna talk to my friends. is that okay with you?" she tried prying her hand away from him, but all he did was shake his head and tighten his hold on her, "what's so wrong with being on my phone anyway? you're the one who's always on your fucking computer when you're meant to be a football player."
"i'm injured, i can't exactly play when i'm injured." he defended, letting go of her and leaning back in his seat.
"well, you weren't that injured to get married, were you? or to go to dubai for your honeymoon for a month, huh?" she huffed, also leaning back in her seat and folding her arms across her chest, "i thought my man was a professional football player, the third best in the world, not a fucking low-life streamer who plays with his money like it's toys."
"i am a football player."
"mhm, i don't see you act like it."
he sucked on his teeth, raising his brows at her, testing her. he knew she was right, but he had too much pride to admit it.
he nodded his head slowly, "okay, then. when we get home i'll train my ass off and get back to being your footballer husband, huh? what, you miss being a wag?"
she chewed the inside of her cheek, trying to limit her smile. she laughed softly, "yeah, it's my favourite thing."
"should be." he smiled back at her as she stretched her legs out to rest on his lap, and he ran his fingers over her calves.
she let out a breath, moving her feet under his hoodie to get warm, "i can't believe you left paris."
he didn't respond for a moment, looking down to her legs, moving his hands under her joggers at her ankles so he could touch her skin again, "you knew i wanted out. i'd always wanted out."
"i know, but leaving europe? that's a big step. you could've gone to barça." she spoke quietly, watching him stare at her legs, obviously avoiding her eyes. she knew he wished he did too, and he hadn't even played one game for his new club yet, or step foot in his new house, "please don't sell your house in paris, baby."
"i wanted to, but i didn't have a choice. this contract is only two years, anyway, meu amor." he let go of her legs, and moved under his hoodie, massaging the bottoms of her foot, "you want me to keep the house in paris? really?"
"yeah," she nodded, "i love that house. we could use it as like a holiday home or something, just please don't sell it. it's not like you can't afford it. all that money for two years. additional to what paris and barça and santos gave you."
"us." he corrected, lifting his gaze to hers, "we're married. we share everything now. not like we didn't before, though. and i'll make you happy, linda. don't worry. we can keep it."
she smiled happily, and let out a laugh, "i'm going on tour soon, you know."
he frowned, lifting his head in confusion, "what?"
"mhm, i am." she nodded, "gonna miss me?"
"i won't have to. i'll come with you."
she shook her head with a 'nuh-uh', "no, you have to work on getting back to my barça ney, not whatever paris did to you."
he squinted his eyes at her, and smiled amusedly, looking back down, and continuing his massage.
