68 Ways to Rekindle | Aaron Ramsey

FORTY ::

My memories with Alyssa Florence are always cut short by the sight of her face, crying and laughing- from the moments we visited Wales and my family to the moments where I threw a tantrum with the flower vase. I doubt that scene will ever leave my mind; I think it ought to haunt me forever at this point.

My memories with Alyssa Florence were never good ones anyway. It was always horror after horror, especially after her relative's death that led to her being more cynical and whimsical. She had became more insane, and was unpredictable. She would call me for a drink, and it would turn into an insane overnight slumber party with dozens of her friends in her house and backyard. 

 Alyssa and her were two contrary people. She was always quiet: reading a book while sitting on the rocking chair would be her favorite thing to do all day. If not, she'd be baking up desserts and the kitchen would engulf in a sugary mess all over the counters. Then, there would be clings and clashes of the pots and pans and it would be a devastating scene coming from a Hollywood movie. 

With Alyssa, she was a party animal. I never loved her. Alyssa was always a wild personality, and she would not ever change herself for anyone out there. All of her previous boyfriends, and even her ex-husband tried to change her. She was married at eighteen, and would not enclose to me any other detail- even though I was her trusted friend.

Seeing her change was not mending my heart. In fact, it was breaking me down even more. 

"Who is P-Wee G, Gonzalo?" The police had finished searching us, and was in the middle of taking out two middle-aged males and females for further questioning. We sat back in our original seats, and the music played- as if nothing had happened less than five minutes ago. 

"Well," Gonzalo took a sip of his drink. "Who do you think it is?"

"Damn it, Gonzalo. I asked you and you asked me back." 

"I don't know who it can be. Your team has too big of a squad for me to guess correctly."

"Well, go on. Guess."

Gonzalo must know that I'm here not to play games and he's playing games with me.

"Gonzalo, you have  to tell me."

"Well why is she so damn important, Aaron? To have you let her go in the first place?"

"I-I," I knew I stuttered on my words. "I don't know."

"Then she's not so important now, is she? To have you chase her back again only to abandon her once more would mean that she'd be hurting twice."

"What about me, Gonzalo? I'm hurting just as much."

"You think that you are, Aaron. But you're not. She's hurting way more than you are, and perhaps her way of releasing all of that stress and unhappiness is through dancing, partying and even going home with Paulo."

"Wait, what?"

Gonzalo quickly covered his mouth. "I guess I blew that guessing game up, huh?"

"Paulo? As in your other Argentinian pal?" Gonzalo only nodded my way, sipping his drink again. 

"You got it, Aaron. The one and only- or so they call him- La Joya." 

"What the fuck, Gonzalo... He left with my-" 

"Don't say that word, Aaron. You know she and you broke apart years ago." Gonzalo placed his glass on the table, letting the ice melt. All I could do was mess with my hair, shuffling it back and forth- knowing that an answer won't come to me this way. 

"Of course P-Wee G was Paulo. How could I not see that coming?"

"Who did you think it was? Gigi Buffon?" I clicked my tongue as Gonzalo laughed. "Of course it had to be my brother from another mother," Gonzalo chuckled.

"Of course it had to be him." I plopped down onto the seats, surrounding the table. "Paulo Dybala."

//

honestly though i don't know why I didn't make it Gigi Buffon bc I admire the goalkeeper 

or Pjanić  maybe 

idk maybe he'll last longer than Granit Xhaka right :')