Jude Bellingham - 03

ֵ ׅ ֹ ׅ Cell Number. (BL, YOU ARE GILBERTO MORA).

At the end of the England vs. Mexico match, the score was 2-3 in favor of England, eliminating Mexico from the World Cup. Tired and saddened, you were heading towards the Mexican locker room, but a hand on your shoulder stopped you abruptly.

— "Hey.. Gilberto Mora, right?"—Jude said, looking at you with that same intense gaze with which he analyzed you on the field.

You remained silent for a few seconds, unable to comprehend that your idol, Jude Bellingham, was standing in front of you at that moment.

— "Y-Yes, ahh... It's me, is something wrong?"—you asked curiously.

— "Well, I was wondering if you could share your cell phone number with me," Bellingham murmured as a small smile spread across his face.

— "M-My number? Ahh.. Sure, do you have somewhere to write it down?"—you pointed, gesturing with your hands.

Jude nodded gently and took a small pen and a piece of paper from his pocket, calmly handing it to you.

You wrote your number with slightly trembling hands on the slip of paper Jude had given you, feeling something in your chest flutter at the thought of exchanging messages with him. When you finished writing it down, you handed the slip of paper back to Jude.

Jude thanked you with a slight smile and a nod, before walking away almost running because his team was looking for him.

You stood there in silence, feeling your heart pounding uncontrollably and a blush creeping across your cheeks as you watched Jude walk away through the tunnel and disappear into the door of the England national team's changing rooms.

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