lover boy

Chapter 50

Jude Bellingham

The car rolled to a stop, and the flash of cameras hit us like a wave. The paparazzi were out in full force tonight, their shouts cutting through the evening air as Jobe and I stepped out onto the red carpet. The atmosphere was electric, a world away from the stadiums we were used to. Fashion Week in Berlin had a different energy—less intense, perhaps, but no less demanding.

As we moved toward the entrance, photographers called our names, hoping for a quick pose. I obliged, throwing on a practiced smile, but my mind was elsewhere. Somewhere in this city, Cecilia was preparing for the runway, and the thought of seeing her again after everything that had happened sent a ripple of unease through me.

A couple of reporters broke through the noise, thrusting microphones in front of us as we approached the entrance.

"Jude! Jobe! How does it feel to be stepping into the world of fashion tonight?"

Jobe grinned and took the lead, his natural charm shining through. "It's exciting, definitely different from what we're used to, but we're here to enjoy it. I've got to admit, some of these outfits are pretty impressive. We might even pick up a few style tips."

The reporters chuckled, their eyes shifting to me. "And you, Jude? Any plans to trade your football boots for a pair of designer shoes?"

I forced a laugh, though my thoughts were far from fashion. "I think I'll stick to football, but it's cool to be here and see what it's all about. You never know, maybe I'll pick up a new look tonight."

Another reporter jumped in with a more pointed question. "Fashion Week is full of surprises—are you hoping for any personal ones tonight?"

The question caught me off guard. I paused, my smile faltering for a split second before I recovered. "I'm just here to enjoy the show, like everyone else. No expectations."

They took that as their cue to move on, turning their attention to other celebrities arriving behind us. Jobe and I exchanged a glance, and he gave me a reassuring nudge as we finally made our way inside.

The venue was buzzing with energy, the crowd a mix of celebrities, designers, influencers, and, surprisingly, quite a few footballers. The hall was grand, with high ceilings, chandeliers casting a soft glow over the room, and rows of plush seats flanking the runway. The whole scene was a blend of elegance and anticipation, and despite the tension brewing inside me, I couldn't deny the allure of it all.

We found our seats near the front, close enough to see every detail of the show. Jobe leaned over, whispering, "This is wild, right? Who knew fashion could be such a spectacle?"

I nodded, barely hearing him. My mind was elsewhere. I knew Cecilia was part of the show tonight, and the thought of seeing her in this setting—on the runway, under the spotlight—sent a strange mix of excitement and dread through me.

The lights dimmed, and a hush fell over the audience. The first model stepped onto the runway, and the show began. The music swelled, setting the tone for the dramatic designs that followed. One by one, the models strutted down the catwalk, each piece more extravagant than the last. Bold colors, intricate details, and avant-garde shapes paraded before us, and the crowd responded with appreciative murmurs and applause.

I tried to focus on the spectacle, to let myself get lost in the artistry of it all. But my thoughts kept drifting, anticipation building with every passing minute. I knew Cecilia would be coming out soon, and I couldn't shake the image of her from my mind. What would she be wearing? How would she look? And most importantly, what would she be thinking?

Then, the music shifted. A different tone, a build-up of suspense, as the final model prepared to take the stage. The energy in the room shifted, and all eyes turned to the entrance at the end of the runway.