Just Friends - Neymar Jr

51

I rolled my eyes, sitting on the football and messing with the skin around my nails, a bad habit I had when I was awkward or bored.

"Sorry I had to get the other camera. We just need you to do a couple tricks, have fun whatever," the photographer explained.
I nodded, getting up and started doing a few kick ups.

As the camera got closer to the boots, I did an around the world and then he pulled it away again so my full body was in the frame. I rolled my foot over the left side of my foot before bringing it up the back of my calve and kicking it with my other leg, successfully doing a rainbow flick. This earned me a few nods of approval from the guys on set and the same make up artist clapped, causing me to laugh, luckily just after he stopped filming.

"Alright, you're good for now. Go change and come back for the joint shoot once Neymar's done with his," the photographer directed me.
I wondered through the back hallways, careful not to trip over the many wires covering the floor. I sat at the vanity in the dressing room I was given and sorted my hair out.

There was a knock on the door, "Are you decent?"
I laughed, "Yeah. Come in."
Michael opened the door, grinning at me, "Sorry just had to check."
I laughed again, "You're good, you're good."

He just sort of looked at me for a second, making me chuckle awkwardly, "Did you need something?"
"Oh right! These are what you need to change into," he handed me a pair of nike shorts and a sports bra.

"So not only do I have to do a shoot with my ex-boyfriend but I'm in only a sports bra as well?" I looked from the piece of material then back to him in disbelief.
He looked at me sympathetically, "Sorry, it was nothing to do with me."
"No I know, it's just annoying."
"I'll let you change, shout me if you need anything," I nodded and he closed the door behind him.

"Fuck this shit," I muttered, complaining as I pulled off the nike leggings I had been given and changed into the skin-tight shorts that went right up my arse. Great.

"Amelia! We need you back on set!" I heard Michael call from the hallway.
"One second!" I shouted back, throwing the hoodie I was previously wearing into the corner of the room and changing into the sports bra. I jogged out the room and over to the white backdrop again where Neymar was already sat on a chair.

"About time," he grumbled.
"Shut the fuck up," I rolled my eyes, turning my attention to the photographer, "The chair?"
"Neymar's going to lean back on it, we need you behind him and just drop your arms around his neck," he messed with the camera as he spoke and I looked at him wide eyed.
"You've gotta be joking, I'm-"
"Amelia," Valentina warned from across the room. I had wondered where she went.

I trudged over to stand behind the chair as Neymar sat with a stupid smirk on his face.
"I swear to God, I'll wipe that smile straight off your face if you don't-"
"And pose!" the photographer interrupted and I was forced to do as told.

I leant forwards, hanging my arms over each of his shoulders as he man-spreaded, holding onto one of my hands with his own and the other hand going into his pocket.

"Lovely! Amelia don't be shy, get a bit closer!"
I took a deep breath as Neymar laughed from in front of me.
"I fucking hate this," I said through gritted teeth.
"Oh I'm sure you do princesa," he said with the same arrogance he always had.
I rolled my eyes, "Don't call me that."
"My bad. Amelia," he smirked, looking up at me and a flash went off before I could answer.
"Perfect!" the photographer shouted before kneeling to get more angles.

Neymar was getting to enjoy this way too much, it was time I flipped the tables.
"Wait, Michael, could you adjust the straps on this please?" I asked him and at the mention of his name, he was straight at my side.
"What, tighter?"
"Yeah please," I smiled at him to which he instantly returned and started changing the lengths of the straps on the back of my sports bra, "That's good. Thank you."
"No problem," he smiled before walking off.