The First Goal

Airport

The alarm goes off, and at first, I want to stay under the covers. But then I remember—I'm going to Spain! With that thought, I jump up, get ready, and sip my coffee as I wait for Barış. Ten minutes later, he knocks on my door.

"Günaydın, bebeğim," he says smoothly, his voice making me giggle at this early hour. As I reach for my bags, he steps in, waving my hands away.

"Leave those for me, güzelim," he insists, lifting my bags like they weigh nothing. A flutter of butterflies hits my stomach—his masculine energy is just so powerful, and I can't help but feel a little dizzy. Especially now, with my unfortunate timing of being in the middle of my ovulation. Great.

"Such a gentleman," I joke, but I really mean it.

We head to his car and drive to the facility where the team bus is waiting. When we arrive, Barış parks and we step out, only to notice a few of his teammates already there—Mertens, who has his family with him (he always does, and it's such a green flag), Osimhen, Kerem, and Icardi. As we walk over, I feel a few surprised looks in our direction.

Icardi raises an eyebrow, clearly puzzled. "Huh, Amel, I didn't know you were coming along. And Barış even offered to pick you up?" he asks, as if that's out of character for Barış.

I clear my throat. "Uh, yeah! I'm joining for the campaign," I explain quickly, "and Barış offered to pick me up since it's a bit hard to find a taxi at this hour." But Icardi still looks unconvinced, his brow furrowing slightly.

Barış jumps in, shrugging off the suspicion smoothly. "Mauro, kardeşim, what do you think—I'm a stone-cold guy who wouldn't offer someone a ride?" He gives a little laugh, trying to brush off the curiosity, but I can still see the boys side-eyeing him.

Just then, Katrin, Mertens' wife, must notice my unease and comes over to introduce herself. She speaks to me in Dutch, which is comforting.

"We met a few weeks ago, but I'm Katrin," she says with a warm smile.

"Hey, Katrin! I remember, thank you for being so nice. Some people just see me as the social girl and decide to ignore me," I say, laughing a little at how true it feels sometimes.

"Dries zei dat jij uit Nederland komt, klopt dat?" she asks, switching to Dutch so naturally that I feel even more at ease.
("Dries said you're from the Netherlands. Is that right?")

"Jaa, dat klopt! Het voelt zo gek om weer Nederlands te praten, haha," I reply, relaxing as we continue to chat.
("Yes, that's right! It feels so strange to speak Dutch again, haha.")

Dries soon joins us, joining in the conversation with Katrin and me. Barış, who has been talking with his teammates, hears the different language and walks over, looking adorably confused.

"Wait, wait, don't tell me you three speak the same language! Now I feel stupid," he says, scratching his head.

Dries chuckles and explains, "Dutch is also spoken in Belgium, so we get to chat without you understanding a word, Barış."

Barış rolls his eyes, feigning a pout. "Now I feel left out," he jokes, but before he can say anything else, little Chiro, Dries' son, tugs at Barış's pants.

"Barış abi, Barış abi!" he says excitedly, pulling him down to his level.

"Yes, Chiro, tatlı çocuk," Barış responds, scooping him up into his arms as Chiro laughs happily.

"Kijk, een politieauto!" Chiro murmurs to Barış, showing him a little toy car.
("Look, a police car!")

Dries chuckles, patting Barış on the shoulder. "Well, Barış, if you want to understand Chiro, you'll need to pick up some Dutch."