Dear Mr Pogba / Paul Pogba

7

(My pov)

The whole dinner turned out pretty well although his speech earlier was running inside my mind, tearing.

“Shouldn't we go home?” I asked him as the time was almost 10 O'clock.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about the time,” he laughed a little and stood up. “Let's go,” he walked ahead of me, not even bothering to wait for me.

--

The car was filled with silence, only his car radio with some African music on.

I stared at the view outside, asking myself, is this what I want?

“Dia?” Paul turned the radio off and called me.

“Yeah?”

“I've called you since 3 minutes ago,” he said. “Well, I asked, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “Just tired,” I continued. “Can you speed up?” I turned back to the view, closing my eyes in tiredness.

Then I suddenly realised that he was taking the right side of the road, not going to the highway. I opened my eyes.

“This is not my way back home, did you know that?” I asked him. But he just kept straight face, very serious. “Paul?” I called. “Paul, stop the car,” I called him again, but he speed up. “Drop me over, Paul Pogba,”

He stopped the car and I turned around to see the amazing view of Manchester. He got off the car and lean infront of the car's hood.

I got off and asked him,“What was that for?”

“What was that for Dia?” he asked. “I thought we were more than this,”

“What are you saying?”

“Why must I'm the one who felt misserable? I just apologise to you but you acted so cold and salty towards me,” he added. “I said, if something is wrong, tell me, I'm here to listen as your close friend?”

“Friend?” my face gone serious in this conversation as well as his. “We have met for about a month Paul, but I've knew you since you were there for Man United,”

“No, you knew me as Pogba 6, not Paul Labile Pogba,” he back off a little. “But I introduce myself as Paul Labile Pogba, trying to get closer to you, as close friend!”

“I don't want close friend!” I blurted. He stayed silent. Confused maybe? I closed my eyes and sighed. “Let's call it a night Paul, I want to go sleep,” I walked inside the car and lean back while holding back this tears.

He entered the car and looked at me. “Dia, I'm sorry,” he started again. I just ignore him and look at the view, again.

Then he started the car and drive me back home.

--

“I could drop you by your house,” he suggested but I opened the car's door as we have reached my waiting spot. He held my arm, “Dianella?”

I looked at him. His warm long hands wrapping my arm are like an arm pillows. Sounds cringey but it was what I need right now.

I respond to him but looking at him. He let my arm go and lean back to his seat. “Nothing, just- good luck,”

I nodded, “Thank you for everything Paul,”

“Wait,” he stopped me again. “This might be your last time in this car,” he added. Making me looked at him in confused. “I mean maybe even, see me,”

I smiled. He was cute when he was trying to get my connection back. What mistakes he had made, he fixed it right but it does not change anything the fact that I'm still so into him.

“I'll miss you,” he continued. “Won't you miss me, Dilly?” he pouted. Seeing a professional footballer being this clingy, don't get me wrong, it's just wrong hah.

“Dilly?” I laughed. “What was that?”

“Come on, I have dropped your new nickname, won't you forgive me?” he pleaded.

“And Dilly is your best choice?” I laughed again.

“Hey, the only person who can call you that is me, deal?”

“Deal, then,” I waved bye at him, meaning my exit.

“See you sometime,” he respond.

I zoomed in towards my house, about a block away while dancing in passionate. I smiled myself and tried my best not to freak out.

Not a best night but what an escapade night. I told myself.

--

Back to football, I left some bruises on the back of my lower leg as the practice earlier was a foul. One of my teammate accidentally injured me but it was fine for me.

Match is in 2 days, meaning we only got less than 48 hours before our first match.

I got myself excuse to the washroom and make my way. I washed my hand as someone entered the washroom but exited back. I looked the door in questioned. Did I just saw a male?

“Excuse me?” I greeted the male as I walked out the washroom. He looked back at me and smiled. “Oh, Mr Lingard?”

“I'm so sorry, I was just- I didn't mean to-,”

“No, I know you're not that kind of person,” I replied. “I should go back now,”

“Wait,” he stopped me first. Now tell me, does every Manchester United male player pro at stopping people?

“What can I help?” I respond.

“Miss Laceae right?” he asked.

I chuckled, “Don't call me Miss,”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “See me after practice?” he questioned.

I shrugged my shoulder, speechless. What for? “Um, yeah I think so, where?”

“Umm,” he looked around. “Exactly here,” his English accent was so bold, I swear.

“Sure,” I gave him a thumbs up and went back in the field. Is this relate to Paul Pogba?