Zlatan, The God

Something Brazilian

"(P)Aren't  you hungry?  You're usually starving after training" (P)His head turned to me, and his eyes lit up, like a child having an idea.

"(P)Let me cook today"

"(P)Wow, are you sure?" 

"(P)Yeah, I want to cook, you're always the one doing it"

"(P)Are we going to die?"

"(P)No, shut up, I'm a good cook"  He got up, heading for my kitchen  "(P)You do it so well, so I don't want to stop you"

"(P)So what are we having, chef?"  I got up, trying to catch up to him, carrying my phone with me in case Zlatan called

"(P) Something Brazilian my mom used to cook"  he was already getting to work, which was satisfying to see

"(P) Need any help?" 

"(P) No no no, you sit down on the stool and relax, you're not doing anything today"  I followed his instructions and watched him cook, joking around as usual.  He ran back and forth from my apartment to his, collecting all the necessary ingredients. I think he burnt himself 3 times, which is fairly impressive.  I missed the excitement of being 16 again; a hidden relationship with a legendary boy, a best friend to kid around with, not caring, you know what I mean? I feel young again, and it's fascinating how fast I got to that stage.

Soon enough, a plate was set in front of my eyes and Davi stood right in front of me, expecting some sort of reaction.  His eyes studied my face carefully, searching for approval.

''(P) Just taste it, Flor!''  He lost patience as I elongated the wait for my own fun of seeing him freak out.  I took my fork out, a bit into it.  Surprisingly enough, it was  excellent.  

''(P) Holy shit, it's really good!'' His face softened up and broke into a smile, hurrying to grab a plate for himself.  

"(P) It's my comfort food, I used to have it after a lost game"

"(P) You need to teach me"

"(P) I don't know, it's a secret family recipe, you'd have to talk to my mom and-"

"(P) Well then I shall meet your mom and get this damn recipe"  We kept laughing and eating, as usual. 

"(P) I'm meeting Sara soon"

"(P) Okay"

"(P) I don't want to tho"

"(P) What do you mean you don't want to?" 

"(P) She's so mad all the time, man" he lightly punched the counter top and got up

"(P) Why? What's going on?"

"(P) I don't know! I don't know, she's crazy sometimes!" 

"(P) Did you do something?"

"(P) She thinks I spend too much time with you"

"(P) You told her I'm no menace, right?"

"(P) Of course!"  He checked his phone.  "Anyways, I should go"

"(P) Sure"  I got up with him, walking to the door after him

"(P) Tell me what goes down, okay?"

"(P) Yeah" He gave me a quick hug and got out the door

"(P) Ciao Davi"

"(P) He waved back, climbing the stairs to his home.   I got back in, plopping in front of my computer to answer emails and stuff.    Stephanie called me, so we chatted for a while.  Always good to make friends in a new country, isn't  it? 

The afternoon went by quickly, and soon enough I was in bed.  Zlatan hasn't called me at all, which, I'm not going to lie, is very deceiving .  I waited for him for a long time.  Anyways, I'm too tired to care.  As if he knew, my phone announced me a new text.

"Sorry, I got stuck in a meeting all day, call you tomorrow. Sleep well, Charlie. x"  Zlatan wrote.  I hurried to answer.

"Don't worry, good night! x" 

A new text came in soon after, by Davi this time.

"(P) I'm alive!  Good night, see you tomorrow "

"(P) Good night Davi"

I drifted to sleep very quickly after my favorite Parisian boys texts.