Different Now (Sergio Ramos) **SLOW UPDATES**

chapter eleven

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I immediately pulled away.

"Sergio, what was that.." I look down and put my hand over my lips. They were warm. He had his eyes closed and slowly got back up. Suddenly, his back faces me and he begins to walk to his room. I walk up to him and yank his shoulder to knock some sense into his stupid mind.

"What was that." I repeat myself, and he swings back around, facing me and his eyes suddenly filled with tears.

"Marina, I don't like you seeing me like this.." He brings his hand up to his eyes to cover them and falls to his knees. I just stood there in the main doorway, still trying to process what just happened. "I can't handle seeing you with.. anyone... bu-" He pauses to clear the tears from his eyes with his hand.

"Sergio, that was my friend Neymar, okay? Nothing else." I slowly bend down and sit down, criss-crossing my legs in front of him.

He had his head down, and his hair was a mess. I couldn't see his face, no matter how close I put my head to him. He reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. Took him about an hour to do that after the little incident that happened back at the camp.

He blinks and his eyes widen, "MARINA!" He suddenly looks up and jumps onto me and wraps his arms around me. We were now on the brown hardwood floor, and the door still wide open. He was on top of me, hugging me and I was uncomfortably on the bottom. "Don't do that again.. Please.." I can feel his hot breath on me as he says that.

"Alright.." I slowly place my palms onto his bare, muscular, tattooed chest (Did I mention that he only had one a pair of boxers?) to push him up. He notices and gets up and he lops around. He was too drunk and probably dazy. I slam the door closed, and lock it. I wouldn't want any burglars. Ha.

"Sergito, let's go to bed. Alright?" I offer him a warm smile, and grab his hand, pulling him to his room.

He chuckles and whispers, "God, I'm in love with you."

I just ignored it.

All drunk talk.

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After last night's random discussion, I had gotten 20 calls in the past hour. All from either Iker, Bartra or Neymar. Which I didn't understand. I immediately dial Iker back because I don't want to deal with any of the Barcas right now.

"Helllllooooo! Iker speaking!" He beams with excitement and joy through the speaker.

"Hi, Iker. What did you need?" I ask dully.

"Haha, just wanted to check on Sergio. We can't have him doing anything stupid, you know him.. Oh! Reminder: Game's next Saturday, and Sergio has practice all this week. So enjoy your day off with him! Hugs and kisses. Bye." He cuts off the call, and leaves me annoyed. I didn't really want to spend a day with a hungover Sergio. Doesn't flow well. I wasn't planning on calling back Marc or Neymar. I run a hand through my long brown locks and sigh. I hate guys.

The door suddenly drifts open, and I don't turn around. I was on the other side of my bed, sitting straight up. I hear footsteps drift toward me.

A pair of warm hands suddenly cover my eyes and the voice says, "Guess who?"

In an instant I recognize the voice, and my stomach drops.