CHAPTER SIX, its not soccer...its football

( NOT EDITED / PROOF - READ )


Juliette had been at the bar in the club for the past 15 minutes, sipping on her virgin mojito, since she couldn't drink alcohol due to the strict diet she had been put on.

Charles was no where to be found. Even after Juliette called him, quite a few times.

The Brunette gave up with trying to get him to come, so she eventually lingered around the club as she pleased.

The Bartender passed her another virgin mojito, which was strangely addictive to Juliette. Her head bopped to the club music, as the lights behind her on the dance floor, flickered and changed color.

In all of a sudden, the seat next to hers had been occupied, by a dirty-blonde man, with piercing blue eyes.

"Let me buy you a drink." He spoke up, quite boldly. Juliette raised a brow. "Dude. You don't even know my name."

The man chuckled. "Sorry."

Juliette snickered slightly. "I'm Juliette."

The man smiled. "Antoine."

Juliette furrowed her brows. "I recognize you." Antoine scratched the back of his neck. "I play for the french national team."

Juliette rose a brow. "Antoine Griezmann?"

Antoine mimicked her facial expression. "And you're Juliette Bianchi." The Brunette wasn't surprised that he knew her, lots did. Especially with the headlines about her joining Formula One lately.

"What are you doing in Barcelona?" Juliette questioned, genuinely curious about his whereabouts, especially since he won the world cup the year before.

"Um, I play for FC Barcelona." Antoine responded, a tight lipped smile on his face. Juliette nodded, impressed. "That's cool."

"What are you doing in Barcelona?" Antoine shot back. "Pre-season testing, for Ferrari."

Antoine nodded, before taking a sip of his martini.

He then spoke up. "So, about that drink?"

Juliette shook her head. "Thanks, but I can't. Strict diet rules in F1." Antoine pouted. "Come on. Even us footballers have a strict diet, but it doesn't hurt to break it once in a while."

Juliette pursed her lips. Debating whether or not she should.

She hesitantly nodded, giving in. Antoine smiled, ordering her a martini.

"Only one drink though." Juliette rose a brow, wagging her finger in his face.

"Alright." Antoine rose his hands up innocently.

"I'm serious! I have to drive tomorrow, and I do not want to do it hungover."

Antoine nodded, before passing her the martini.

The two spoke amongst each-other. Exchanging each other's instagrams, before Charles finally decided to show up.

"Sorry I'm late." Charles spoke up from behind Juliette. Who rolled her eyes at him, sarcastically . "You're a hypocrite, you always bitch to me about me being late. But you end up being the late one."

Antoine shifted awkwardly, beside Juliette.

"Who's this?" Charles questioned, squinting his eyes. Antoine smiled awkwardly. "I'm Antoine."

Charles's brows rose. "You're the soccer player for Barca, aren't you?"

Juliette corrected him. "It's football. Not soccer."

"Whatever." Charles shrugged, before Antoine nodded. "Yep, nice to meet you."

Charles knew what he was doing. He was ruining their moment. He didn't know why, but he didn't want to leave Juliette unattended.

Charles sat next to Antoine, ordering a mojito.

"So...you're a Barca fan?" Antoine questioned. Charles shook his head. "Not really. I'm more of a Madrid fan." He stated, quite bitterly.

Juliette grimaced slightly, knowing how awkward it must've been for Antoine. Charles was being a dick, and for no reason at all.

"Ah, okay." Antoine nodded. "Good luck with your testing tomorrow. I'll see you guys around."

Antoine grabbed his things, setting a few euros on the table for the drinks, before waving goodbye to Juliette, who returned the gesture.

The Brunette then turned towards Charles, with an unreadable expression.

"What the hell was that?" Juliette asked. Crossing her arms over her chest. "You were being a dick."

Charles pursed his lips. "He asked a question. And I answered. Simple as that." He shrugged.

"You're unbelievable."

"No, you're unbelievable." Charles started. "You shouldn't be associated with that guy, he's just like all the other footballers. Who jump from woman to woman. He's a player."

"You don't even know him." Juliette argued. Charles rose a brow. "And you do?"

"Well, you can't just assume shit about people. He was really nice."

"Yeah, too nice." Charles bit back.

"Are you serious?" Juliette laughed bitterly. "We were just talking. And, even if we were flirting - which we weren't - it isn't any of your business. You decided to show up late, very late. So I just assumed that you weren't coming."

Charles scoffed. "You didn't even try to text me and ask why I'm late. You shouldn't have just assumed."

Juliette stared at him in disbelief. "I called you. Multiple times." The two glanced over each other, the air thick. Juliette then huffed before picking up her bag, and hastily payed the bartender. "You know what, I'm not even gonna attempt to talk to you. You're too thick-headed to realize that you're being an absolute shit head."

Charles did not know what got over him. Juliette was so important to him, and ever since Jules passed, Charles took it upon himself to look after her in a way. Not wanting her to get hurt, physically or mentally. And seeing her hanging around with an Antoine, who was an assumed player, worried him.

"Juliette-" Charles grabbed at her. But Juliette swerved from his touch, and left the club.

Some would say that Juliette was overreacting, others would disagree. But what nobody could deny, was that Charles constantly did bugged her when it came to boys.

He drove many boys away, which was excusable for the first few times. But as soon as it happened more often, Juliette started to get fed up with it. She wanted to be with whoever she wanted to be with, and Charles constantly ruined that for her.

Others saw it as a thoughtful thing, that Charles cared for Juliette's well-being, and was protective over her. But was that really the reason?

Charles didn't know.

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