-0.8- Conversations in the Dark

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"The glory of the Lord shall endure for ever: the Lord shall rejoice in his works."

-Psalm 104:31.



-0.8- Conversations in the Dark

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         "È pau è pedra."

Amidst the darkness that had enveloped me, I recognized a melody that my mother played all through the house as a child. It sounded like Aguas de Marco...and even though I was pretty sure I was still laying on the cold floor, the sound of the music seemed to approach my pass-out spot.

"É um resto de toco, é um pouco sonzinho..." My first thoughts were correct.

"Alana?" A male voice called, and I felt my body twitch in response. I'm 100% sure that was not my mother calling me. It didn't sound like Andrew either...and then I became alert.

My eyes shot open to see a pair of hazel eyes staring back at me. His eyes were illuminated in the moonlight that peeked into my hotel room--at least I think I was there. None of us moved, he was just gazing at me.

"É peroba do campo, é o nó da madeira,"

Was I still dreaming?

Or was this a nightmare?

He wasn't moving--well he was-- but he was breathing and staring. I couldn't deny that I felt some kind of way about his stare, but this was weird. Or maybe I was dreaming.

There was only one way to find out.

My hand lifted up, without him noticing, and I quickly jabbed his side. Neymar let out a yelp, clutching his side, and then looking back at me with a frown.

So this is happening!

"É o vento ventando, é o fim da ladeira,"

I clasped my hands over my mouth, attempting to stifle a laugh. But I belted it out instead, but immediately stopped due to a killer headache taking over. My hands went to my head as I groaned in pain, and I felt something wet on my forehead. I was beginning to wonder about what the press would say about me passing out drunk. AKA: Not a good look.

Neymar was quick to take a wet cloth that apparently was on my forehead, he pressed it to my head.

"So, you were the one that took that nasty fall." Neymar whispered, putting the back of his hand to my cheek, and then the nape of my neck; leaving a fiery feeling wherever he touched. "You're not to warm..."

"Huh?" My head was pounding.

"Nothing." He said, and I hadn't noticed that was kneeling and on my bed. He kept one hand pressed against the cloth that cooled my forehead. The music was coming from his phone, and he paused it. "I texted you, thinking you got my message, but now I know you didn't." Neymar explained.

"You what?" I asked him, because he was whispering too low.

"I asked you if you could stay with Andressinha, or whoever else. Cause I was gonna have company." 'Company', his tone was too kind, way too kind.

Double Trouble Too // Neymar Jr //Where stories live. Discover now