Jobe Bellingham (3)

The smell of coffee in your new Dortmund apartment barely eased the jet lag . A degree in Design, finally. Leaving England to accept that job offer in Germany was the perfect blank canvas... until you read the sports news.

Jobe Bellingham , your persistent high school crush whom you had rejected countless times, had just been presented as Borussia Dortmund's newest player. Three days later, the doorbell rang. The delivery man handed you a huge bouquet of peonies with a note tucked in: "Germany is big, but not big enough to get rid of me. See you Saturday at Signal Iduna Park. There are VIP passes in your name. - JB" On Saturday, curiosity won out over routine. From the stadium's VIP box, you watched Jobe dominate the midfield in a brilliant performance. After the match, a guard led you through the private corridors to the changing area. There he was, in his club kit, his hair still damp, and an unmistakable smile on his face when he saw you. “I knew you’d come,” he said, leaning against the wall with that British composure that couldn’t quite mask his nervousness. “The flowers were a dirty trick, Bellingham,” you replied, crossing your arms and stifling a laugh. “I had to sign for a European giant just so you’d accept my invitation,” he joked, taking a step toward you. “Admit it, designer, I’m persistent.”

—The word is 'stubborn' —you corrected him.

"Whatever works," he smiled slightly, his eyes sparkling like they did when he was sixteen. "I played my cards right, didn't I? Does that give me the right to take you out to dinner tonight, or do I have to send you more flowers tomorrow?"

You looked at him for a few seconds. In a new city, with both of you having achieved your goals, the rules of the game had just changed.