Double Trouble Too // Neymar Jr //

-1.5- "Is that Bold Enough for You?"

This is exactly what I needed to calm down, this is exactly what I wanted--just a moment to myself.

Except the fact that a little solitude was impossible to get nowadays. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see Zico and Neymar walking onto the pitch. A sigh escaped my lips, acknowledging the fact that time spent alone was over. As if on cue, both of them looked at me, but Zico lingered longer.

"Morning." I heard Zico greet the players. "Morning, 'coach'." He greeted me from afar with a wave. I gave him a head nod with a why-are-you-talking-to-me expression written all over my face. "Did you tell her?" He mouthed at me. I batted my eyelashes at him, turning on my heel. Ducking into the tunnel, I pulled out my phone, trying to get quickly get my assignment done and over with once and for all.

Surely I had more than enough to write now.

My hands glided along the grayish and blue walls. My eyes skimmed along signs, looking for the locker room. In no time, I was there, and I picked a metal bench to sit on. The cool metal chilled my skin as I rested my head on a locker idle behind me.

A minute setting...with nobody to muddle my vibe. Perfect. I turned on music for me that was fitting for such a time.

In the blink of an eye, I was already typing away, stating the what could possibly be the hardest thing. Undistracted, my eyes stayed on the screen. That was, until I felt a presence behind me.

"I hate how everything is run for the men's national team...no wonder Marcelo fakes gastro--" I heard a raspy voice reading aloud. I squealed, elbowing whoever in their stomach. "Ow!"

Oh, it's just Neymar. Phew.

Scratch that sigh of relief. It's Neymar!

"I can tell that you've been working out your arms." He coughed, holding his belly. I pursed my lips.

"Anybody with twigs for arms will say such a thing." I teased him, going back to my assignment.

Did he know that I was here?

And as soon as he recognised that I was here--alone--why not just jet out of there?

"One day when I'm more muscular over here," he rubbed his tatted arms, "you'll never be able to bother me about these bad boys over here." Neymar flexed jokingly, making me chuckle.

On the outside, I was acting as if I couldn't care less about him standing there. On the inside, a part of me was begging to talk about last night...to clear the hidden awkward air of course.

Or maybe so that I could stop hanging onto that thin shred of hope--

Ugh!

He obviously doesn't care much about you or last night. I chewed on my lip, looking at him up and down as he continued reading my words. His eyebrows knitted together, as his eyes traveled to mine. I smiled but it didn't reach my eyes as the music played in the background.

"Ana..." the sound of my nickname coming from his mouth sent shivers down my spine. "Do you dance anymore?" I guess that I need to expect the unexpected questions now, but each of them hit me in different ways. "Kat's wedding classes don't count either." The mention of my poor oblvious sister made my eyes automatically go downcast. "Like, have you truly danced...?"

"No." My eyebrow perked up.

Shane hates dancing.

I love it.

As the saying goes: opposites attract...right?

Right...?

"Do you want to dance? That's a nice song that's playing." My eyes lit up.