The Beautiful Game ~Neymar Jr~

Maybe I Do Care

Going to practice without Oscar there was almost depressing. Before he left, Mila and I would hear laughter and loud noises coming from the boy's field. But now, it was a lot quieter. We would hear the constant sound of the coach blowing his whistle, and players kicking the ball. From time to time, I would hear Neymar's laugh.

When Oscar left, it definitely hit Neymar the most. He didn't crack as many jokes, he didn't carry his extremely loud stereo everywhere he went, and he didn't dance on the sidelines after he made a goal.

The only thing I liked about Neymar was how goofy he was. He was obnoxious, but he knew how to make someone laugh. Now that Oscar was gone, he stopped being the goofball everyone knew him as.

Today at practice, our Coach decided it would be beneficial if we worked with the boys. We were teamed up into pairs, and of course, I was paired up with the biggest loser on this planet, Neymar himself.

"Good luck working with Mr. Hot Stuff." Mila giggled.

"Very funny, Mrs. Franco." Mila was paired up with possibly the least enthusiastic player there, Colin Franco. He never washed his uniform, because he thought it gave him 'good luck', when really, we were the ones who suffered.

We started doing drills. We dribbled the ball, passed it to our partner, then shot for the goal. I had to admit, Neymar was good. He was extremely quick, and light on his feet. He had amazing control of the football, and never let the opponent take it from him.

He looked like a stallion, with his lean, toned body, sprinting with the football. The concentration on his face was almost funny. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. I can't stand him. I have to remind myself this before I get carried away.

Mila noticed me staring, and waggled her eyebrows at me. I mouthed a 'No' to her, and she just shrugged.

As soon as practice was over, Mila and I went over to the benches, as we usually did. Only this time it felt different.

"It's funny, whenever I sit here, I think of Oscar. How I used to be head over heels for him. I just miss him Mila." I looked over at her.

"Me too Beatriz, me too."

We looked over at the field we were just sprinting on. Neymar was still on the field picking up the left over footballs.

"You don't really hate him. I know you don't." Mila said simply.

I quickly snapped my head away from Neymar's direction and looked at her.

"What?"

"You don't hate Neymar. You may get aggravated at him sometimes, but you don't dislike him in the least."

I studied Mila's face for a minute. Maybe she was right. But all my life, we hated each other. That can't change so quickly.

Suddenly I heard a loud yell. I looked over at the field, and Neymar was rolling around on the grass, screaming in pain. He was holding his arm, and Coach was trying to help him up.

I immediately rushed over. I don't know why, and I don't know what came over me to do so, but I didn't want Neymar to be hurt. He was a talented football player and the last thing he needed was to be hurt, and have to miss a game.

"What happened?" I yelled once I got over to Coach.

"Neymar was trying a new trick with the football, but he managed to slip and fall when he was standing on the ball. He landed badly on his arm."

"Well we need to take him to a doctor, now!"

"I want to, but I can't. My wife has the car, and she's at work. She won't be back quick enough."

"I have my car, I'll take him."

Mila, Coach, and I helped Neymar to my car. We layed him in the back and elevated his arm. It was twisted at a bad angle and I had to try not to vomit.

I started up the car while Mila hopped in the passenger seat. Soon, we were at the hospital. We rushed Neymar in and the doctors whisked him away within minutes.

Mila and I sat in the waiting room. I was extremely tense. I might have 'hated' Neymar, but I definitely didn't want anything bad to happen to him.

"He'll be okay Beatriz. He's a wimp, but he'll be okay." Mila comforted.

I simply nodded and shook my legs. The waiting room started to empty out. I was getting nervous, but then, the doctor showed up.

"Hello, you're Beatriz Meló?"

"Yes," I nodded quickly, "Is Neymar okay?"

"He'll be fine, thanks to you. He said you brought him here as fast as you could."

I nodded sheepishly.

"Well because of how fast we were able to treat him, he'll be okay in about a month or two. He'll be prescribed painkillers and antibiotics. He will also be in a cast for the remainder of the healing process."

"Okay, thank you so much doctor."

"That isn't all. He's going to need someone to be with him, everyday. In case he isn't able to do something he normally would be able to do without this injury."

With that, the doctor went away. I was slightly relieved that Neymar was okay. But, I had no clue who to leave him with for almost two months. All of his family was in another city in São Paulo.

Mila was probably thinking the same thing, because as soon as I looked at her, she opened her mouth to speak.

"Who's going to stay-"

"I don't know, Mila."

We waited for Neymar to be released and when he was, we all silently walked to my car. I dropped Mila off at her house, and then started to drive towards my house, since Neymar lived right next door.

Once we got to my house, I told Neymar to go get a change of clothes. I explained everything the doctor had told me, and how he could spend the night at my place until we figured out who would stay with him. All he did was nod. He didn't put up a fight, or try to make me mad, or crack jokes. He just remained silent, staring at his blue cast.

I cleaned up my bed a little so we'd be able to sleep. It was big enough for the both of us without making it awkward, at least I hoped. I didn't think making him sleep on the couch was a nice thing to do at a time like this.

Once I changed into an over sized shirt and some shorts, I welcomed Neymar to my room. He was shirtless, and had black sweat pants on. I couldn't help but stare at his body. I quickly looked away so he wouldn't notice.

Once we were finally in bed I heard him speak for the first time since the accident. His tiny voice was almost inaudible from the other side of the bed.

"Beatriz," Neymar quietly spoke. "Why'd you help me? After how horrible I was to you, ever since we were little. You should hate me, after I went on and on about how I'm a better footballer, and I even spread rumors about you having a crush on me, since grade five."

So it was him that spread those rumors? Oh well, I'll get him for this later. Now wasn't the time to get mad at him.

I turned around to face him in my bed. "I don't know why I suddenly stopped despising you," I mumbled while looking into his light hazel eyes. "I don't know why I wanted you to be okay. I just don't know. Maybe, after all, I do care. I don't want to hate you."

And with that, I whispered a 'Goodnight' and avoided any further discussion.

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