Sexts → Gerard Piqué

Gerard

Picture of Gerard and Núria Tómas at the side/top/bottom/whereeverthefuck.
He looks unhappy?

Sorry for the delayed update. I was sick and was literally feeding myself on nature.
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I waved at her– which was totally an instinct; I think that's what I would call it. I'm never going to let any girl into my car ever again.

Thankfully, Mercedes— okay, that's one, bizarre name– she wasn't anything like I had expected her to be. She wasn't oversexed and annoying; moreover she liked cars. She was a nice student, and talking about beauty– she was alright, I mean, I can't really rate a student, can I?

I heaved a sigh as I pulled up in my garage– shuddering from the downpour that had sluiced me down. Stepping out in the rain, which was dying down, I hesitantly inched towards my own residence– the one and only being, my fiancé.

My parents were really evil for hooking me up with this introverted witch, without even considering my opinion– how could they be so oblivious to the fact that she's a self-serving, gold digger?

I pressed the doorbell and closed my eyes, leaning against the doorframe letting out another, exasperated sigh while cudgelling my brain, wondering why on earth do students like me– out of all the– nevermind, the other teachers are mostly in their sixties.

Yet, I am overly weird– something that none of the students know about me. I might act serious, but sheer weirdness is what I define.

"Gerard! Mi amorrr!" My thoughts were pierced by a shrill voice. I opened my eyes to see the brunette in an unexpectedly joyous mood. She draped her arms around my neck, propelling my dear face into her mane– almost suffocating me to death.

"Núria–" I was cut off by a pair of lips hungrily working against mine– forcibly. I tried to pull back, but in vain. The lady plunged my soaking soul into the leather canapé, and scurried back to the door, slamming it shut– much to my annoyance.

The very next moment, she was all over me; doing things that I, at that moment, immensely disliked.

She further reached for my shirt, unbuttoning it in a steady pace; whilst I watched her in vexation.

I desperately prayed to God for her to leave me alone— I mentally cursed myself for not defending my impotent self when my parents were compelling me to commit myself to this libidinous lady.

God, however seemed to have taken my prayers into consideration— I heard my phone ringing.

Never in my life was I so glad to hear that one, dull, monotonous tone. I seized the opportunity, and quickly grasped my phone even before the dull witted woman with me could contemplate what was going on. I raised it up to my ear, while holding in firm in my hand– holding onto it for dear life.

"Hola–" I breathed into the device–yes, breathed, literally.

"Hola– Geri, ¿estás bien?" My mother's concerned tone made me sigh– partly in relief and partly in exasperation.

"Yeah, mamá." I practically bellowed the word mamá; on seeing the brunette scowling at me.

"–I'm doing nothing, you can talk, yeah." It was only after two minutes of helpless hang fire that Núria decided to give up. She rolled her eyes at me, before exiting the scene— leaving me shirtless on the couch, listening to my mother rambling on the phone about how Coco, her 2 weeks old golden retriever defecated all over her favourite couch. Still more interesting than being intimate with Núria.

When I disconnected the call, after about an hour, I was still anxious about Núria being Núria–but to my utter relief, I found her asleep on our bed.

Our bed? No! My bed!

She was infuriated— no doubt, but I didn't care. I was overjoyed to discover the note from her on the dining table– the one which read:

Go make your own food. I'm going to bed, you disappointing idiot.

'Disappointing idiot'– is that how far her vocabulary could go?

However, I was glad I did not have to eat her food– her culinary skills were so good that she'd be kicked out and charged a financial penalty for attempting to murder the judges on the very first day of MasterChef.

I heaved a sigh, sinking down onto the leather couch whilst awaiting my pizza– I was going to eat good food after like, a decade.

I tried training my eyes on the television, but not even Grey's anatomy could paralyse my mind from thinking how screwed I was.

Heaving another deep sigh, I grasped the remote to press the power button in order to switch the show off. Before I could do so, a ping made me halt– it was my phone, again.

My eyes darted towards the illuminating screen, as a grin spread across my lips– quite after a long time, that day.

JackieA_ : Heyy, you there?

I quickly grasped the device and typed a message back– I hadn't replied since I left school– much to my dismay. How could I let such a relevant matter banish from my mind?

I read the previous message that my new stranger fantasy lady had sent me;

JackieA_ : it's okay. what are you doing, daddy? (;

I sighed, immediately framing up apologies to her– the girl who was a complete stranger to me. All I ever knew about her was her name; Jackie, which too did not seem genuine.

Nonetheless, I had started liking her– she seemed completely innocent (observation based on my 28 years of experience); but she was still seventeen.

Was I being an immoral freak?

Daddypk : sorry baby girl, I was busy with something.

JackieA_ : may I know what that thing is?

Daddypk : work. Job :(

JackieA_ : Aww, you sound like you dislike your job. What's your profession?

Daddypk : no, I love my job. My job? It's something stressful that brings you a lot of female admirers.

JackieA_ : Was it necessary to mention that?

Daddypk : are you jealous?

JackieA_ : whatever you wanna call it.

Daddypk : Baby girl, it's just you who's on my mind.