The Key | Christian Pulisic

The Key - Part 1

I hear the pitter patter of rain in the distance and feel the breeze from the overhead fan on my naked back as I stir awake. I roll over and find the other side of the bed empty, but still warm. I reach out a little further and feel a paper.

I missed you – I love you. Come find me when you wake up.

I slowly sit up and stretch out. My muscles are nice and sore - a pleasant reminder of the hours of rendezvous we had just had. A blush creeps over my cheeks as I think back to it.

Chocolate brown eyes staring up at me from between my legs. Wet and feverish kisses. Whispers in my ear reminding me of how he missed me and how much he loves me.

He loves me.

Last night was our first night together since he'd left for the World Cup. It was also the first time we'd ever said I love you. It had kind of slipped out as we were driving back to his flat from the airport. 

"I can't believe you're finally here, Y/N," he says to me as he places his free hand on my thigh and gives it a loving squeeze.

I, on the other hand, hadn't been able to stop touching him since the moment my eyes found him in the sea of people at Heathrow. The entirety of the car ride consisted of me caressing the back of his head and staring at him.

"I know! I hate that I couldn't come out to Qatar or been here sooner, baby. But you have no idea how much I missed you. And how PROUD I was watching you kick some ass on the pitch," I say as I salute him.

He laughs at this; I know he hates the Captain America nickname, but I couldn't help but poke fun at him about it any chance I could.

I hadn't been able to get back to London right away even after all the World Cup madness had subsided, as my work schedule had me slammed, so we had been making do with FaceTimes, phone calls, and iMessages. But the 8-hour time difference from LA to London was no joke, so it had been difficult. It had been close to four months of us not seeing one another in person and I swore my body ached more and more each day being away from him.

"I know you're a busy woman so I'm just glad you were able to carve out some time for me," he says as he reaches behind his head to grab my hand and kiss my knuckles.

"I'm really proud of you too, by the way, Y/N," he continues on, "a lot of the guys on the team were confused as to why you didn't just blow off your job to come to Qatar, but I know how important those presentations you had been working on were," he says intertwining his fingers with mine now, "and to be honest, I would've been a little upset that you gave up the opportunity to showcase all your hard work."

Hearing this made my heart feel like it was going to burst out of my chest. I had felt so guilty for not leaving LA to see him play at the World Cup. It took everything in me to not say "fuck it" and quit my job, but I had worked so hard and was on the brink of getting a big promotion so I couldn't just leave.

In the 6 weeks of him being gone, I nailed every single one of my presentations. The promotion also came the day of the massive win against Iran so we both had big Ws to celebrate that night - even if we were half way across the world from one another.

"I love you, Christian," I say before I could even process what was coming out of my mouth.

I freeze as I register what I had just said. I looked over at him and saw his head tilt and a second later, a huge smile spread across his face.

"I love you, too Y/N," he says as he squeezes my hand.

"Fuck, I'm glad you said that first because I've been wanting to since the day of the Iran game and your promotion," he blurts out quickly, "I knew it the second I scored that goal and wound up getting laid out. The first person that came to mind was you. There's no one else I want to share these huge moments with. I love you so much, beautiful."