Shyla's POV
I was standing there, fidgeting with my shirt and biting my lower lip. My hand dreaded knocking on his door. I wanted to run away and avoid dealing with the problem, but I knew that if I did, nothing would be solved.
I gradually raised my hand and knocked three times on his door. As I waited, I shifted my weight from my left to my right leg.
Neymar must've known me because he opened the door with a hostile glare and his jaw clenched.
"Hey," I said soothingly. When I saw him, I couldn't help but smile.
He didn't bother responding, instead waiting for me to finish what I was saying or tell him what I was doing at his house.
"Can we talk?"
As I looked into his eyes, I inquired.
After a few seconds of silence, he nodded his head. He still hadn't said anything. I suppose the silent treatment was his way of retaliating against me.
As he led us to the living room, I followed in his footsteps. When we got to the living room, he told me to take a seat.
He sat down on his couch and adjusted himself in a comfortable position. I sat next to him, but not too close.
I could feel myself getting hot. What was the source of the heat in his home? Or am I just nervous to the point of sweating?
"Talk," Neymar said as his gaze shifted away from me.
"I want to apologize for what I've done. I shouldn't have agreed to go to on that date. I'm sorry for being careless."
Words could never express how sorry I was. I knew it was wrong, but I agreed anyway.
"I'd understand if you didn't—" he cut me off before I could finish.
"I understand," he said.
"Apology accepted,"
My eyes widened as I was taken aback by how simple this was. He couldn't possibly forgive me so quickly.
"What?" I said. "I thought this had upset you? Why are you so quick to forgive me?" I inquired.
This didn't make any sense. He was furious after reading the messages. He's so at ease about it now.
"I was just worried that you'll get caught, that's all. It was stupid of me to get mad at you." Neymar looked down to his hands, as he spoke.
My brows furrowed and my lips pouted. He should not hold it against himself. I was the one who was to blame. I was the one who made a stupid decision, not him.
"Can we just forget about this?" As he stood up, his hands on his knees, he said.
I looked up to him as I couldn't figure out what was going on. He walked right past me and into his kitchen.
I did the same.
"Are we cool now?" I inquired.
Neymar's lips curled into a smile, and he laughed. As I wondered what was so funny, he poured himself a bottle of red wine.
"What's going on, Shyla?" He inquired.
"What do you mean?"
"You're so nervous and apologetic. I've never seen you like this before." He elaborated.
I shifted my gaze away for him the floor. I was undoubtedly acting differently.
I'm suddenly pleading for his forgiveness and feeling utterly defenseless. I was feeling the same way I did when I was with Liam.
My lips were sealed as memories of that terrible day flooded my mind. I'd lost myself and my child that day. My soon to be born child.
"Are you all right?" Neymar's voice was concerned, and his brow was slightly raised.
"Uh. Yeah."
I wanted to cry, but I kept my emotions under control. I'm not sure how I managed to do it, but I did.
This was not how I had imagined things going. It wasn't my intention to become overly emotional.
"I was just worried with how I had hurt you." I clarified. "I didn't mean to hurt a friend,"
When he heard my last line, his face dropped almost instantly.
The word friend sounded strange. I didn't want to refer to him as a friend. What I felt for him was not the same as what you feel for your friends.
"Don't worry about it," he said with a smile, but I knew it wasn't genuine. Neymar's smile reaches his eyes to the point where you can almost see them.
We both fell silent after that. He stood behind his kitchen counter, arms spread across the counter.
"I've got a game tomorrow," Neymar announced. "It'll be great if you'd come."
"So we're cool?" I had to ask.
Neymar let out a giggling laugh. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the counter, arms crossed.
"You really can't go on with your life unless you settle this argument, can't you?" He sassed.
"Oh, shut up," I snarkily said.
He then approached me, closing the distance between us.
In long, leisure strides, his muscular legs consumed the space between us. He came to a halt when he was only a few inches away from me.
I raised my head, our gazes meeting. His eyes then were drawn down to my mouth. I was certain he was going to kiss me, and I was looking forward to it.
His arms were as sure and hard around me before I could withdraw my mind from its far places. I felt the rush of helplessness, the sinking yielding, the surging tide of warmth that left me stiff once more.
And my calm face was blurred and drowned to nothingness. He bent down and kissed me, softly at first, then with a swift gradation of intensity that made me cling to him as the only solid thing in a woozy swaying world.
His persistent mouth was parting my trembling lips, causing wild tremors along my nerves and eliciting sensations in me that I had never known I was capable of feeling.
I knew I was kissing him back before a swimming giddiness spun my round and round.
I gradually began to veer away. His hand was around the back of my neck, and his arm was glued around my waist. I couldn't tell you what I'd felt with his lips against mine.
But there was only one word to describe it: perfection.
I wished I could pull away, but I didn't have the will to do so. I wished to keep his lips to mine until my very last breath. To spend every day in his arms.
"Did you really just kiss me?" My mind was still trying to figure out what had happened.
"And you kissed me back," he added.
I laughed.
"How couldn't I?" I asked. "You had your arms wrapped around me the entire kiss,"
And it was his turn to laugh.
"Don't you think this is too soon?" I wondered.
Neymar didn't question my words because he knew exactly what I meant.
It hadn't been over two months since we'd first met. But every time I'm with him, it's as if I've known him for years.
I couldn't stand Neymar and his childish attitude when we first met. But I'd grown to appreciate his mannerisms and realized it wasn't as bad as it seemed.
He'd taught me a lot in such a short time. He showed me that it was okay to fall in love again.
I'd made a simple promise to myself after leaving Liam, but it was powerful enough to ruin a lot of things for me: never trust and date anyone.
Neymar aided me in expressing my true emotions and self. I'd pretended to be this stoic, reserved person for years.
Someone I wasn't.
"I suppose you're right," he agreed, despite his eyes telling him otherwise. His attention was drawn away from whatever was behind me.
He pouted his lips in a childish way, and I couldn't help but smile at his adorable face.
"How about we wait a little longer?" I proposed.
I was madly in love with this guy. I was absolutely certain he was the one. But I had to overcome what I was going through at the moment.
And maybe, just maybe, informing Neymar everything that had happened to me. It was nearly impossible for me to speak about those times. Kayla was the only person who was aware of Liam's existence.
But I suppose Neymar had a right to know.
"Of course we can wait, and I'll wait for you," he replied. "Always."
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I hope this is a long chapter for y'all cause I've been writing the entire day 🥲
Thank you so much reading !
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