New Romantics | Mbappé

Back To The Start

“You and Mason figuring things out again, ha?” he questioned, ones they reached the outdoor venue and hid behind a wall, so no one would see them. Taylor snorted at the comment, she could hear jealousy all over his tone, she could even feel him staring at her. She turned around to face him.

“Back to being an asshole again, ha?”

“You sure he won’t be looking for you right now?”

“What are you doing here?” she asked but the question sounded more stupid out loud then it did on her mind. Of course, he was here, he was supposed to be here with the French team. It would be weird if he wasn’t. She looked at his leg “I mean why are you not locked up in a hospital or something with that horrible leg.”

“Same reason you are not locked up in your bedroom after writing that horrible article.”

She laughed, an evil laugh. She bit her tongue annoyed, crossing her arms and looking away because that was a low blow and it seemed like they were back to their old ways. The times when they bit on each other like cats and dogs and scarred one another deep.

“I’m not doing this.” She said and walked past him. He grabbed her arm, forcing her to turn to him again, pulling her close to him. He had missed her skin, her perfume, her aura. He wished she’d go on calling him a piece of shit if that meant she’d stay for another minute with him and ignore Mason Mount. He moved his hand up her arm, making sure the contact gave away his dirty thoughts. Because he wanted her to know, he still thought about her under him or over him.

She looked at his hand, memories swarming in her mind like flies of all the times he’d done that in Paris. Kylian made a step forward, leaking his lips and looking up and down at her. She looked different. The fire in her eyes was gone, like she had no will to fight him at all.

“How did you do it?” she asked suddenly. His eyes lifted up to hers, he wasn’t sure what she meant. She pulled her arm away, replacing his touch with her own by putting her hand over where his used to be. “I can imagine but I want to know for sure. Why didn’t she release the article about us? It was ready! It would have been front page. The biggest headline. So why, did it never break out?”

“Why does it matter–”

“Because it does!” she snapped. “So, tell me, or this conversation is over.” He hesitated. Hid his hands in his pockets. She examined him, her suspicious getting confirmed while she looked at him. “How much did you give her and what else did you promise her because it couldn’t have been just money!” he didn’t respond. She went closer, slapped his arm “how fucking much, Kylian?” she asked louder, tried to hit him again but he snatched her hands—

“Arrêtés!” he yelled, his eyes staring right in hers and she tried to push him away but he pulled her closer instead, their chest bumping onto each other. She looked at his lips, it was an instinct. She craved him as much as she hated him. He angled himself so he’d have access to her lips if he wanted to, if he needed to. “I told you before you left that I’d stop it and that’s what I did. The how is not important.”

“My savior” she mumbled but there was so much irony in her voice, it made him distance himself, take a good look at her. He narrowed his eyes.

“That’s what you have to say?”

“I have a bomb over my head for the rest of my life, what do you want me to say? I Left because I was ready for it to explode and now, I have to look over my shoulder, listening to all these endless rumors—”

“You left because you wanted to ran away—”

“Yes, and you made sure I have to keep running by ‘protecting’ me—”