lowkey | joão félix

9

barça had won the getafe match, so everyone at the party was in high spirits, especially joão. he held your waist with one hand, drink in the other. your side is pressed close to his, the cocktail that you had earlier making your senses fuzzy.

"did i tell you how pretty you look in that dress?" joão says, leaning close to your ear to be heard over the loud music. you laugh.

"yes, multiple times, actually. once in the car, and then again when we walked in."

"did i? well, expect to hear it again." both of his arms snake around you from behind and he leans his chin on your shoulder. he sways the two of you to the beat of the song playing overhead. note to self: joão was a clingy drunk. not that you minded one bit.

fermín catches your eye from the other side of the room and gives a suggestive wiggle with his eyebrows. you shoot him a glare in return. joão notices your empty glass in hand and offers to get you another drink.

"yes please, surprise me," you respond, and he disappears in search for the bar. you stand there awkwardly, unsure of whether to stay put, until a girl you've never met before approaches you.

"oh, you came here with joão, right?" she sneers, looking you up and down. "who are you?"

"i'm y/n," you say as politely as possible, flashing a strained smile. you've practiced your fake-nice act down to perfection, used to dealing with other stuck-up models in your industry. the girl nods, disinterested.

"you're not from around here, are you?" she questions, eyes silently judging you.

"no, i'm here on a modelling job," you say patiently, wanting to end the conversation.

"oh?" her lips part and her eyebrows raise in shock. "i wouldn't have guessed that you model."

you push the rising anger down. who did this girl think she was? you resist the urge to slap her across the face.

"ask any of your exes, i'm sure they've heard of me," you say sweetly. "if you even have an ex, that is."

you feel a tap on your shoulder and whirl around to see joão standing behind you, an amused smile painted on his lips. he hands you a glass and you accept it gratefully, kissing his cheek for good measure. the girl in front of you gives a disgusted look before leaving.

"where'd all that attitude come from?" joão asks, chuckling. he'd heard the last thing you said. his arm was back, protectively around your waist.

"she had it coming. she was being rude," you say defensively, sipping your cocktail.

"don't be mad. i'm kind of into it," he whispers quietly. you give him a playful shove.

"what's up with you?" you comment, rolling your eyes.

"what's up with you?" he shoots back. "i'm not the one who kissed your cheek." he holds his hands up defensively and your face flares with heat.

"would you rather i didn't?" you snap.

joão's voice drops low. "i'd rather you kiss me somewhere else."

you are momentarily stunned, not expecting him to be so bold. he takes a step forward and you're almost chest to chest.

"oh yeah?" you try to regain your composure, fighting to keep a nervous stutter out of your voice. you had to tilt your head up to meet his eyes, the height difference suddenly dawning on you. "do it yourself then."

his face drops close to yours, his lips practically ghosting your own.

"maybe i will." his eyes never falter from your lips as he closes the gap between you. his lips are soft as he gently kisses you, sliding a thumb over your cheek.

he sucks on your bottom lip and nibbles at it playfully. you kiss him back hungrily, a wave of emotions washing over you. your hand finds his hair and tugs at it gently.

joão pulls away suddenly. his pupils are blown wide and his hair is a mess. your lips are tingling. the rush of empty space between you leaves you wanting to shorten the distance once more. you give him a confused look.

his hands grip firmly onto your waist. "if we keep going like this, i don't think i'll be able to stop." he's breathing hard.

"then don't stop," you say, all too quickly. in your drunken state, you didn't care that you sounded so desperate.

"i want to, trust me." self-control strains his voice. "but not like this. another time. i swear it."

you marvel at his self restraint, when yours is barely holding on. you had wanted this for so long, and the thought of waiting leaves you feeling frustrated.

but you let him kiss your forehead and steer you to the couch where the rest of the group is sitting.

[ author's note ]

i'm a sucker for drunken confessions what can i say