I dropped my bag and removed my shoes, feeling drowned of all energy. That night of sleep weirdly tired me, although I slept very well. I made my way to the shower, immediately blasting hot water. I jumped in and started procrastinating the simple task of washing myself. I'm dating a married guy. I'm dating a a married man, a gorgeous man, a very rich man, a mesmerizing man, a god. I'm dating a football star. What if he's playing with me? What if he'll never leave Helena? What if I', just that second piece of meat he has fun with from time to time? I can't reach her level. An older, confident woman. Should I care? I could never force myself away from him. I can barely get my mind off him. I really don't feel well about this. He's with Helena. He's married, god! This can't be okay! He would've left her if he didn't love her. I can't get away from him, it's too late. I've melted into him. I will not keep away. For how long have I been in here? Oh god, his arms... 1 hour, 2 maybe? His eyes, though... I should get out! Lips... Someone's knocking at my door! His height... "Floooooor!" David!
"(P) I'll be right out!" I stopped the water, grabbing the nearest white towel. White, his bed was white... Right! David! I tied my hair up quickly, dried myself up and slipped my underwear and bra on. I grabbed a robe from the hanger and got out. The guy was sitting on my counter, going through his phone as if he had been waiting for 3 hours. He raised his head at me, putting his phone away.
"Davi" He opened his arms and smiled, as I rushed to cuddle into him. I'm so glad he's in my life, he replaces friends and family, who are very far from me. He's my best friend and my brother at the same time. I put my arms around his waist squeezing him as if I wouldn't have seen him for 3 weeks. He smells like home, it's amazing. "(P) I missed you" I whispered against his chest, earning a chuckle.
"(P) Was he that bad?"
"(P)What do you mean?" I lifted my head, questioning his statement.
"(P) You've seen me yesterday, you shouldn't be missing me"
"(P) Whatever" I got off him and made my way to my room to get dressed. "(P) How was training?" I shouted, making sure David was hearing me.
"(P) Okay, as always. I'm dead, physically. The made us run like 10000 km, it was torture. My knee started hurting again." I got out in joggers and a hoodie, giving him a questioning look. Hurting knees aren't good for football players, naturally. I grabbed his hand and laid him back on my bed, earning a cat-like stretch from him. he turned on his back, his huge legs stretching past the edge of my bed, his arms barely fitting over his head. "(P) Can you sit on my back?" this wasn't new for him to ask. It provides him some kind of relief that I don't really understand. I straddled his back, feeling like a 5 year old, for some weird reason.
"(P) Does it hurt now?"
"(P) Flor I told you a thousand times you're not heavy for me, -"
"(P) No, Davi, I know, I was talking about your knee"
"(P) oh- Yeah, a bit. The doc told me to watch out, for now" He said. "How was your date? He was weirdly joyful today"
"(P) We had dinner, it was good. Then he showed me his room and-"
"(P)Holly shit on the fist day? Didn't think you were that kind of girl"
"(P) NO, OH MY GOD! we didn't do anything, we just slept. It was nice."
"(P) Was he okay? Do I have to beat him up?" He said, turning around to look at me with one eye.
"(P)Of course he was, don't worry for me. Besides, you couldn't beat him up even if you really tried"
"(P)I could beat up anyone" He turned around as I got off of him. He was laying under me, my feet on both sides of his waist.
"(P) Not him"
"(P) I would if I had to, don't you doubt that"
"(P) Okay. I don't"
"(P) Good." He grabbed me by my thighs and threw me next to him, making sure he wasn't hurting me, as usual.
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I'm sorry for the delaaaaaay, here's another part. There was much more to it, but it weirdly got deleted, I'm sorry again, I'll re-write it next time! Thanks for the read, comment so I can get some review pleeaase! Happy New Year, BTW!
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Zlatan, The God
Fanfic25 is the right age for major changes, right? -Zlatan Ibrahimovic fanfiction-