Football Smut Collection

Antoine Griezmann - A Weekend From Hell

"You can't be serious!" I shrieked, my fingers slipping into my hair, ready to rip away and make myself bald. There was a greater chance for my fingers to be glued to my head forever, considering the sticky locks with a shameful amount of hairspray, wax and whatever else the hairdresser has put on my unruly curly locks to make me look like more of a human being than a mythical monster like Medusa.

"I'm afraid I am." Antoine sighed with a nonchalant shrug and I was ready to scratch those disturbingly blue eyes of his out with my perfectly manicured nails.

He leants against the wall, his white shirt wrapping around his torso exactly the way the tailor personally designed it for him to show off his muscular upper arms, his narrow waist. He had the top two buttons open, the sleeves rolled up after the several attempts of him trying to break out from our cage of a winecellar. The formal outfit fitted him, even more so with the dyed blonde locks that framed his boyish face. He looked like prince charming. A very dirty, very tanned prince charming that is with eyes so blue, I could almost hear the ocean licking the shore.

"You don't look afraid though!" I screamed at him. Pent up frustration they said was bad for your health and I couldn't agree more.

This was a weekend from hell. It'd all started at Friday when my car'd broken down and my friend had thought it'd be a great idea to put Antoine Griezmann and myself into a tiny car. I'd like to point out here, he'd arrived with a fire red Lamborghini for a trip to countryside. The man was a genius for sure.

Here's the story. We've hated each other since the first time we'd had the misfortune to meet. I clearly rememebr the day because it'd been my best friend's birthday. Antoine'd been supposed to pick me up and take me to the party because just like now, my car had broken down. He'd been 24 minutes late, and when I'd dared questioning him, he'd been the one acting outraged; he'd gone as far as telling me I shouldn't have thrown tantrums. Ever since then at all events where we'd both been present, we've avoided each other like plague.

But this wedding... His best friend. My best friend. We were tied together forever or at least until they got a divorce and then I could get rid of him and his foolishness, his childish behaviour, his cute smile, definitely his cute smile should be the top on the list, the one that makes his eyes twinkle like he was a kid and made butterflies errupt in my stomach like I was a teen.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" He asked with a frown knitting his brows. I quickly dragged my eyes away from him. I simply zoned out, certainly wasn't staring at that drop of sweat that started rolling down from his neck to his bare chest.

"I'm not," I huffed and turned my back on him, finding it the safest option to avoid any misunderstanding. I've never been stuck in a winecellar before but read more than enough romance novels to give me bad ideas about what could happen here.

Not that I'd ever want anything to happen between the most annoying person on the planet and me. I wouldn't even have to go too far back in time to explain why he got this not exactly honorable title from me.

It all started with the Lamborghini. I wasn't the type of person to hold back my thoughts and I told him it was ludicrous he wanted to go countryside with that matchbox. He said he could fit me in the trunk of it if I had issues with the size of the passenger seat and I told him he'd likely fit better. That was a giant mistake. Antoine hated comments about his size. He wasn't extremely short, actually, was taller than me but it was a trigger point for him.

From that moment on, he'd been silent, no awful jokes, no trying to make pranks on my account, not choosing awful music in the car just to drive me crazy, nothing. I quickly started feeling guilty. Whilst I most certainly appreciated his silence in a twisted way, I also missed our bantering.