I Fell For A Ball Kicker? (A Robert Lewandowski Fanfiction)

The Antique Coffee Shop

Chapter Two

Robert Lewandowski? There was something in his name that reminded me something or maybe it was someone? If I had met someone with that name, I would probably had remembered it. His face was not familiar, his voice neither but his name told me something or probably was just a confusion inside my head. Before turning the car engine on again I plugged in my EarPods, I placed one of them in my right ear and started driving, this time really paying attention to the road. During the whole journey to the center of Munich I couldn't stop thinking about him, don't get me wrong I'm not in love with him or something -even though he was really handsome and good looking, I have to admit that- it's just, he reminded me something but I couldn't remember what. As I got closer to the city center, the traffic and more cars showed up. The traffic lights on every square made it unbearably annoying, honks and people shouting to each other was something I didn't want to step by, growing up on a calmed environment doesn't prepare you for this kind of stuff. Waiting under another red light my phone started ringing, a private number with a strange area code, the regular 555 on it didn't appear on the lock screen, maybe it was Germany's area code.

"Isabella Clark" I answered formally.

"Am.. Yes... Hi, my name is Robert Lewandowski, do you remember me? Car crash, seconds ago" He said shyly.

"Mr. Lewandowski of course I remember you, it was just a second ago. What can I do for you?" I said cheerfully.

"I was just wondering, at what time does your interview end?" He asked.

"I think it will take from forty five minutes to one hour maximum, why are you asking mr. Lewandowski?" I said.

"I talked to my mechanic and he said he could have the cars repaired for this mere afternoon, so I was wondering if you could bring the car over and then meanwhile the cars get repaired, we could go for a coffee or a drink?" Robert took quite a long time to say all of that.

"Yeah, that would be lovely. But with one condition mr. Lewandowski" I said.

"What is it?" He asked eagerly.

"You will let me pay the drinks" I smirked.

"I will let you pay the drinks with one condition" he said.

"What is it?" I asked a bit confused.

"If you call me Robert instead of mr. Lewandowski, mr. Lewandowski kind of makes me old" he joked.

"Okay Robert, see you then" I chuckled.

"See you later, take care" he said and hung up.

After I hung up I realized I was smiling widely like a stupid college girl. I shook my head and continued driving till the enormous building that had "Heisen-Bower Signature" in silver letters on top of it. Executives and businessmen were looking at me weirdly and some of them shook their heads in disapproval, I didn't understand what was happening until I remembered I had crushed the rented car. Respectfully -without making any obscene signals with my fingers- I ignored them and entered to the building. People running from one place to another holding big loads of paper, people discussing inside a meeting room, people having some coffee and laughing, that's the working environment I was looking for. After asking for the jobs interviews in the insanely expensive lobby, a nice, blonde, insecure girl which name was Brigitte, guided me to a waiting room where there were another 3 candidates, excited as me. Unlike them, I wasn't nervous, I just felt that this job was made for me and I was born for this job. I placed my stuff in the empty seat next to me to avoid annoying and enervating loafs that were willing to take my job. I crossed my leg professionally and looked outside the big window, "Allianz Arena" was the most noticeable thing from the window, a gigantic bowl-like stadium where tacky people assisted to watch a tacky sport. Soccer shouldn't even be called a sport, I mean, men running after a ball, sweating disgustingly, kicking it in direction to a goal praying it would get inside and if the ball entered; making stupid celebrations that denigrated their dignity, sorry soccer supporters I'm off. And the worst of all is that the bunch of ball kickers are braggarts and bumptious, fame-seekers; Ugh! They make me sick.