How hard can it be to fall in love with a football player when you're afraid of footballs...?
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Helping out her best friend by playing the lead in that music video project for university had seemed like an easy enough feat for art student Lorelai...
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»You're just gonna let that stand there?« Gil asked him incredulously.
»There's nothing I can do about this, Gil,« Neymar said, dejectedly.
They'd just watched the video clip. Gil's laptop sat in front of them on the coffee table and YouTube was still open in the browser.
Ten seconds.
Someone had actually managed to record ten seconds of his and Lorelai's fight yesterday. Of course that had been interesting enough to upload on the internet, not even a day later. As per usual these days, the media had been quick to publish one story after the other about the »trouble in paradise«.
Well... fuck.
His publicist had been in a fit as soon as the clip had made it onto different news channels. Worst of all were the Brazilian media — ever the most prominent ones when it came to talking about his love life. They went crazy on his »secret« affair with the video girl obviously gone bad now. The articles themselves weren't too bad, but as per usual that wasn't the problem. No, it was the comments that were; many people (not all, thank God) called Lorelai different names, most of them — while disgustingly memorable — not worth repeating, and after the first few Neymar stopped reading them altogether.
Had it been this bad with Bruna? He couldn't remember.
In any case, this couldn't be the fans he loved so much — this was disrespectful, hurtful, and definitely not what he imagined reactions to be when news got out he had a girlfriend.
Not that this was an option anymore, because the Brazilian newspapers were right — it had gone bad.
He'd been played. Fully, completely.
All this time she'd had that guy by her side. That douche bag with his stupid hipster scarf and pretentious look.
Why hadn't she said anything? Why had she felt the need to lead him on? Why had she allowed that kiss to happen? Good God, that kiss...!
What a fool he'd made of himself! Going to the café, finally mustering up the courage to ask her out, to come clean with the feelings he'd had for her for a long while now.
»Ney, that girl is basically experiencing a shit storm right now!« Gil exclaimed, waving his hand at the screen of the laptop. »And she's all alone with it. Have you read half of the comments? The very least you can do is make a statement, come clean with all this.«
Neymar only sighed and put his head in his hands. That's exactly what management wanted from him; what Duda, his manager, had suggested he do — post a message on Twitter, Instagram, wherever, to stop the rumours from spreading. And more — to protect Lorelai from the black sheep among his loyal followers, the ones who were taking things too far.
Because the clip about their fight had brought to light another video, which had made the news for an entirely different reason — at first. After that, the fans and media had immediately made the connection to Lorelai and himself. The video was dark, of bad quality and rather shaky, obviously made by someone who hadn't been able to contain their laughing fit. No matter, you could make out the outside terrace of »Marina's« clear enough. You could make out Lorelai.
