Sexts → Gerard Piqué

Gerard

This isn't an update. I FOOLED YOU AGAIN.

Actually no, this is an update.
*devilish grin*

Ahh, I'm soo going to hell for this.
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"So, soon, right?" I rolled my eyes. For Christ's sake, this guy needed to quieten down.

"Yeah."

"How long?" His eyes were gleaming like a kid in a candy store— how not-so-adorable.

"Neymar, shut up. You've been asking me the same, Goddamn question since the past hour!" I furrowed my brows, scowling at him with the least hope of him listening to me.

"Okay," he looked down at his sea-green coloured drink— whatever on earth, that I was aloof from was it made of. Jesus, this guy had probably swapped taste buds with Bear Grylls.

He had quietened down— for a moment I thought I had offended him, and considered to apologise, but hardly after ten seconds of silence, his head bolted up.

"You're nervous, aren't you?" His white dentition was in display. "I can see it."

I heaved a sigh and remained quiet— why on earth did I allow him, of all the people on earth, to tag along?

I could've had a peaceful and romantic (and maybe a little heated up too) time with Jackie, but now I'll have to settle with a pendejo interrupting me every two seconds, asking me the same question over and over again.

"So, how long?"

"Fuck you."

"Don't worry, she's beautiful. Like you're totally going to—"

"Do you have a razor?"

"What?" The Brazilian blinked, surprised at my unexpected question.

"Do you have a razor?" I repeated.

"Yeah— why?" Why would he even have a razor when we're at a restaurant?

"I carry one everywhere," he further added, slipping out a red metallic electric razor from the pocket of his Levi's. I'm surprised he isn't admitted to the local asylum.

I took the razor, observing it leniently. The razor, in no doubt was expensive as hell— but it's not like I needed it for any specific purpose.

"Well, good. I'm going to shave your head."

"Díos mío!" He exclaimed, snatching the red machine away from me. I gaped at him, as he shot an incredulous look at me— one on one, he gave in to my jest. Idiota. Why wasn't I even expecting him to believe me? Like, come on, it's Neymar Júnior that we're talking about.

I wiped a tiny bead of sweat from my forehead, as I watched the minute-hand of the huge wall clock rest itself on the fifty fifth mark.

Five minutes before it's nine— I'll finally be seeing her.
I glanced over at Neymar; who, after chugging down two glasses of green fluids, and having a major flirt session with the waitress was dozing off in his chair.

Anybody, who would see us in such a condition would call us losers— this isn't how the first of January is supposed to be.

Another couple minutes passed, and I wanted to wake Neymar up— but didn't do it, anyway. I think I'd prefer privacy.
A small smirk settled on my lips, as a ping sound, accompanied by a buzz sounded from my cellular device.

Jackie: hey. can I call you now?

And within seconds, my phone started vibrating in my hand.

I know I'm one of the worst friends that you'll ever find, and this will only add to it— but I stood up, and leaving a sleeping Neymar behind, I marched out of the restaurant. I couldn't help it– I was freaking out, and I needed to find a suitable place, with adequate lighting, silence, minus a sleeping lemur, etc.

I stopped on my tracks, glancing at my phone, that had stopped vibrating. I really needed a suitable place; and I was nowhere

Jackie : why aren't you picking up the call?

Jackie : this is annoying, you know.

I heaved a sigh– she was getting mad, and I needed to FaceTime her now, like right now.

I shook my head and tapped on the call button, before stepping into a random café— I needed some good lighting for this. Plus, Neymar would never find me here.

I've never been this nervous in my entire lifetime. I waited, gaping at the screen, at her name, whilst secretly praying that nothing goes wrong.

I even checked out myself in my mirror, thrice— I think I looked just fine.

Finally, the graphics on my phone started changing, and after second or two; it displayed a lady— a girl; beautiful indeed.

I watched, as her lips formed an "O" which she soon covered with her palm, while I watched, dumbfounded.

I'm not sure if it was me– or her, who had disconnected the call. My heart sunk to it's pit, and an overwhelming sadness took over me. I couldn't be in love with the girl I met over a site like Omegle– and the girl, couldn't be someone who I'd never dare to date.

I heaved a sigh, before muttering that one, name that mattered so much to me now.

"Mercedes."

_____
the end
(I'm serious)