They were back to the tension.
How great was that?
End sarcasm here.
New Years came and went, and thankfully, Neymar's dad and Tamira's mum came back from their trip, happy as ever, but concerned about their kids nevertheless, once they realized the two had returned back to mean looks and nasty comments.
So the last few days of the Australian family residing with the Neymars was spent trying to avoid the elephant in the room. Of course, neither of the two had lost a word about what had really happened between them, leaving the rest of them guessing. Hell would need to freeze over before anybody found out about their... thing.
Blissfully, after only three (seemingly endless) days into the new year, the repair guys told Emilia that the house was inhabitable again. The heating worked again, the glass door and walls of Tamira's bedroom had been repaired. They could move back.
Tamira had never packed faster in her entire life.
Her mother, of course, had cornered her the minute they'd gotten back to their own home. Too bad that she was exasperated and fed up with the issue by now, no thanks to Emma having asked these sort of questions on a regular basis these past few days, bugging Tamira endlessly with her curiosity. Who was in dire need of a massage; the tension was starting to settle in her shoulders.
"Look, mum," Tamira had tried to explain. "We tried the whole civil thing. It didn't work out as soon as we were alone. But you can rest assured, we're gonna keep acting civil on the field, during training, during matches and press conferences and everything else professional related. But for the love of God, please finally get it out of your head that we will ever, ever get along just fine! That's not how we're are, as you can see! So just please let me ignore him and he ignores me and everything is great, alright?"
It wasn't alright. Far from it. But neither had confided in their best friends, which meant that neither Gil nor Emma had a clue as to what had really transpired that night Emma had slept over at Rafa's, so there was no comforting conversation or shoulder to cry on or ear to talk off either.
To make matters even worse for Tamira, her mother apparently had decided that she wanted to talk about the gala – months later. To be more precise, about that handsome young man from Qatar, of all people. Didn't Tamira have fun dancing with him? He seemed to be nice, Neymar Pai had informed her, since he'd talked to the man back then. Wasn't he nice to her at the gala?
Thankfully, the football season continued with several matches in their respective leagues, which distracted both of them from each other. Even better, thanks to their busy schedules, they once again had the best excuses to go out of each other's way, no matter how strongly their parents wanted them to meet up on family dinners and whatever else they could come up with. But their utter refusal to do anything together that wasn't football related eventually got through to the parental front, and after a long while they stopped bothering the football players with it.
Of course it was too good to be true.
Because as soon as the family and friends had stopped their efforts the club took their place.
One late afternoon at the end of January found both Tamira and Neymar sitting in Bartomeu's office, chaperoned by the trainers of the mixed gender team; Enrique sat next to Neymar, Llorens next to Tamira. The footballers were doing their best to completely ignore each other's existence, which filled the office air with lots and lots of tension, ready to be cut with the proverbial butter knife.
Bartomeu had rambled on about the success of the mixed gender concept, complimenting them on the initiative and past performances, individually and as part of the infamous attacking duo. Then, he completely shocked everyone present by saying, "So it would be really great to see you two flirt a little bit with each other."
"What?!" Tamira exclaimed at the same time that Neymar did.
Bartomeu held up his hands. "Please, before you go and alert the gender police, I'm not talking about open signs of affection, nothing physical, you see?"
Enrique scoffed and exchanged a quick look with Llorens. They both had expected this conversation to be quite a disaster – but not these galactic proportions! Gender police. Dear Lord.
Tamira leant back and crossed her arms over her chest, affronted and insulted by the suggestion of using romance to spike up the advertising for the initiative – which was essentially what it was. It put the whole initiative to shame.
"I know you want this thing to be purely about the sport and the equality," Bartomeu said. "But the media are what they are, and they love a good love story like anybody else. They can smell a scandal a mile away and thrive on every little dirty detail to create a story. Seeing as you two are the leading icons for gender equality in sports these days, they pair you up with one another, looking for such a story."
Enrique rolled his eyes, while the rest of them watched Bartomeu, nonplussed by his words.
The director went on, unperturbed. "The concept is being copied all over the world with no end in sight, so I ask you: how much longer will we be at the pinnacle of this movement? The leading stars? I'm not telling you to 'go and have a relationship', not in the least. I just want to suggest that you... how shall I put this?"
"Give the media something to talk about? Keep the discussion about the initiative in the minds of people? With us as the main focus? That it?" Neymar said with a snarl. He scowled at the FC Barcelona director, still bewildered that such a suggestion had even come out of his mouth in the first place. Then again, Bartomeu was who he was.
Bartomeu clapped his hands together. "Exactly!" he said, smiling widely, as if he'd achieved something just now.
"You cannot be serious about this," Tamira said, shaking her head in disbelief. "I'm leaving."
She stood up and made her way to the door, ignoring Bartomeu's voice calling her back. Boss or no, consequences be damned, but she would NOT be subjected to this! A part of her was glad to hear Neymar announce the same and follow her out the door not a second later.
Good, so they were on the same page here at least.
Llorens gave Enrique an inquiring look before following the footballers, leaving the men's first team trainer alone with Bartomeu – here's to hoping to discuss the topic with the director without further insulting the star players. If anyone could make Bartomeu see reason, it was Enrique. Dare to Lucho, right?
"Hey, guys! Wait!" Llorens called after Neymar and Tamira.
Clearly reluctant both came to a halt in the hallway. Llorens noticed the extra distance they were careful to uphold between them, even in the tight space of a corridor. They didn't look directly at each other if they didn't have to, though the older man caught Neymar sneak peaks at the girl more often than not – same went for the other way around.
"Look, we all know that Bartomeu's approach is... well, there are no words," Llorens said with a shake of his head.
"He was out of line!" Tamira hissed angry and still very upset. She pointed toward the office. "That was overstepping so many boundaries, I can't even–"
"I know!" Llorens interrupted her before she could go on a tirade that would clearly indiscriminate their boss on so many levels he didn't care to acknowledge or hear. At least, not so close to said bosses office. "Me and Enrique, we're not fans of it either and we've even tried to talk him out of his stupid idea previously." Two sets of eyebrows lifted and had the situation allowed for amusement, Llorens would have laughed at the synchronicity the two were showing. "Look, Enrique is in there right now, trying to make Bartomeu see reason. Because there clearly can't be any sort of tension between you on the pitch, I think we can agree to that."
The quick look the two threw each other before looking away again spoke volumes. Llorens sighed, fearing that Bartomeu would get what he wanted anyhow, albeit decidedly not via open good-natured flirting. But nobody would believe me when I called it sexual tension, he thought, refraining from rolling his eyes.
"The media will spin their stories without us giving them extra material anyways," he went on. "What I'm saying is this: they'll get their Neymira stuff one way or another. We're not stupid, you know? It's clear that there's something going on here between you two that's aggravating you."
Neymar scoffed, Tamira begrudgingly agreed with a tense nod of acknowledgment.
Llorens cleared his throat. "So, on behalf of the team and the initiative: get over it," he concluded. "Find a solution to this, find a way to get along. Because if we can see it, the rest of the world surely will. And they will not care for the true story. If they see any discord between you two, there will be rumors, there will be stories. And most of them will probably not be of the flattering kind. I don't have to remind you of your careers and your images as professionals, do I?"
Neymar sighed heavily, glancing at Tamira, who determinedly stared a hole in the wall behind the trainer. He rifled a hand through his hair before he broke the awkward silence in the hallway. His voice was quiet and pensive when he said, "Look, it's not gonna be me that's standing in the way of... getting along, alright?"
Tamira sneered. "Oh sure, because clearly it's only me that's acting like a douche here."
Neymar laughed humorlessly. "I'm not even going to say anything to this. But at least you admit you're a douche here too, so that's progress coming from you."
"I don't think your behavior these past few weeks would count as progress either, but feel free to correct me if I'm wrong."
"Great! You're communicating!" Llorens said before this turned into a full-fledge argument about whatever issues the two of them had. Two pairs of eyes landed on him and the intensity and irritation they showed was enough to make him hurry up with what he had left to say. "But seriously, figure this out. That reminds me," he rummaged through his pockets, pulling out a business card and handing it to Tamira.
The girl frowned at it but took the card nevertheless. "What's this?" she asked. When she read the name on the card her eyes widened – and Neymar's turned into slits while he observed the girl apprehensively.
"He called the office and asked for your contacts after the gala last year," Llorens explained. "Then again after those 'Neymira' rumors have been cleared up. He was quite adamant. Seeing as we don't give out contact information of our players, this was the next thing he came up with. He asked to tell you to give him a call if you ever feel like talking."
Tamira bit her lip, afraid to look up and see Neymar's reaction. Instead she read the business card again, chuckling softly. "My gosh, who puts 'Prince of Qatar' on his business card?" she joked. "Is this some sort of running gag down there?
Llorens grinned at her. "Not if you're really the prince of Qatar."
"Get out!" Tamira exclaimed, gaping at Llorens. A prince. Did Qatar even have a monarchy? Did you call it a monarchy? Wasn't there a sheikh or something in charge over there? Was that equal to a king?
"You have got to be kidding!" Neymar found his voice again after clearing his throat, disbelieving what he'd just heard. That young man from the gala, the one he'd dismissed as being some irrelevant guy coming from Qatar Airways, the guy who'd intercepted their dance? That was frikking prince?
"He didn't mention it to you?" Llorens wondered, ignoring Neymar's words, but saving his reaction to memory nevertheless.
Tamira shook her head and Neymar chuckled humorlessly. "I'm sure he did," he said with mirth, "but you were too busy ogling him that night to notice."
The girl looked about to explode, but then a smirk appeared on her face as she changed tactics. She tilted her head, held up the business card and waved it in front of Neymar's face. Her teeth showed as her smirk widened even more. "Quite apparently he didn't seem to care. You know what? I might give him a call."
Neymar's look grew even darker. "You do that," he spat.
"I will."
"Great."
"Why, I think so too."
"Don't let me stop you."
"You're not."
"Fine."
"Fine!"
They stared at each other and Llorens knew – without a doubt – that he'd done the right thing by giving Tamira the business card. He'd said he would take action if the situation demanded it, after all.
Here's to hoping it was the right one.
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These two, they will be the end of me! Can they get more frustrating??
Anyways, inspiration struck and this is the outcome! :) I'll need to enjoy the time I have left to write and write and write. Starting next Monday, I'm not sure I'll get around to write as much as I used to - new job ;)
Wish you all the best!
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Published on: 10 November 2015