I NEED YOU||Jude Bellingham

009.

                                 MARTYNA

After what felt like an eternity stuck in a whirlwind of camera flashes and forced smiles, the relentless clicking finally faded into a comfortable silence, leaving me gasping for breath like a wild animal released back into the wild. My reprieve had arrived, but my mind? Oh boy, it was racing a million miles per hour, trapped in a cosmic Bermuda Triangle of my jumbled thoughts about that surreal night with Kylian. A friendship that was amazing, was now twisted into a pretzel of confusion, and I, obnoxiously aware, felt like that pizza dough that had been manhandled and tossed around too many times.

I ran my fingers through my hair, deeply wishing I could run my thoughts that effortlessly through my brain. I exhaled slowly, channeling my inner Zen master, as my gaze fell on a frothy cappuccino perched on the table like a little caffeinated guardian angel. Surely, this cup of warmth held the power to soothe my racing thoughts and, dare I say, shove Kylian off into a far corner of my mind, preferably somewhere that made it impossible for me to hear about his charmingly chaotic life for at least a week.

But just when I thought I might finally find a moment of peace, a parade of sunshine burst into my bubble. One of the staff buzzed over, practically bouncing on her feet as if she were about to reveal a world-altering secret.

"Miss, someone is here to see you! Jude Bellingham, that's his name"

Her eyes sparkled with an enthusiasm that could rival a 5-year-old at a candy store. Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. I almost rolled my eyes so hard I expected them to get stuck. Seriously? What was so thrilling about Jude? Sure, he was a footballer, but he wasn't exactly the crown jewel of my collection.

"Let him in"

I muttered, arching my eyebrow in a way that I hoped conveyed my mounting irritation.

The door swung open, and in walked Jude, his tall frame casting a long shadow, like a scene from a rom-com I never agreed to star in. I mean, not bad to look at, sure. I could give him that. But my heart was stubbornly shielded like a medieval castle under siege, and the last thing I wanted right now was some fair-haired knight to distract me from my chaotic thoughts.

"Good morning"

He chirped, holding an orange Hermes box, cradled like a baby, as if he were about to reveal the Holy Grail.

"Good morning, Bellingham. You can leave it there"

I replied, warding him off like a pesky mosquito buzzing too close to my ear. The last thing I needed was to prolong whatever awkwardness danced between us like a couple at an off-key wedding reception.

"Oh, you're already nervous? It's only morning"

he replied, his grin wide as though he had just pulled my biggest string and it was oh-so-amusing to watch me flail.

I crossed my arms defiantly

"I'm not nervous, I just don't want to be around you"

I shot back, adding a dramatic huff for effect, because sometimes a little flair goes a long way in these situations.

A flicker of understanding crossed his face, but thankfully, he dropped it

"I get that"

And then came the moment I certainly wouldn't have placed any bets on

"By the way, I'm sorry"

My heart sunk a little, not because I wanted to forgive him , which, let's be real, would be way too easy , but rather because there was a genuine tone in his voice, one that could melt the coldest of hearts.