type | reus

four

T Y P E - chapter four.

It had hit Marco, hard, just how correct Natasha was about the fact that interracial relationships in Germany were rare. When the German footballer casually asked his mother—admittedly, the only person he really opened up to—what she thought of them, she responded by saying, "Your sister is married to a Ukrainian man. Clearly, I don't see any issues with interracial relationships."

Marco didn't even know why he cared so much—Natasha had made it fairly clear that she didn't like him. Not in the way he would've liked, anyways. But, as Sunday evening rolled around and Marco found himself anticipating seeing Natasha more than he did playing his upcoming match, he couldn't help but wonder—would she be more open to things if he made his attraction to her more obvious?

Natasha was sitting on a patch of grass with her nose in a novel when Marco spotted her. Somehow, she'd convinced him to pick her up from campus after his match—that was a first. Marco liked that Natasha didn't cut him any slack, nor did she seem to care about who he was when she talked to hum. Upon seeing Marco's expensive car, Natasha smiled and swung her book bag around her shoulder before making her way to the vehicle. "So," spoke Natasha, thrusting herself into the passenger seat, "What are we doing?"

Marco grinned. "That is my decision to make, isn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah." Natasha rolled her eyes, waving a dismissive hand. "You scored a good goal, I will give you that much."

Marco's grin turned to a handsome smirk, his bright green eyes piercing Natasha's dark physique in pleasant observation. Dressed in a black and red floral sundress and 2-inch slip-on heels, she looked effortlessly perfect. "Is that why you got all pretty today, then? Because you knew you'd be seeing me?"

Natasha tucked her hair behind her ear, a small smile overtaking her shiny and plump lips. "Aren't I always pretty, Marco?"

The German grinned, placing a hand on Natasha's lap. Given that her skin was bare for the first time, it felt shockingly different than it did the night before—far more intimate. "You're more than that, Natasha."

Natasha smiled. "I knew it! You're in love with me, aren't you?"

Marco cracked an amused smile. God, she's ridiculous. Again, his eyes stole a glance towards her full pink lips.. "Keep dreaming, Natasha, and maybe one day that'll come true. Your hair looks nice, by the way. Did it seriously take five hours longer than you planned?"

Natasha let out a chuckle. In addition to presently hanging out, she and Marco had been texting all day—that is, of course, up until his mid-afternoon match against Leverkusen. It was so easy for them to talk—as complete opposites, they had a million things to ask and learn about one another. Natasha told Marco of how her day started off with a hair appointment gone wrong, forcing her to write an article while at the salon—something that seemed absurd to Marco. "It really did take hours," responded Natasha, running a hand through her shiny dark hair before flashing a bashful smile. "You know, I'm glad you like it. Because I went to my hairstylist and I told her to do my hair so well that Marco Reus would—"

"Natasha," laughed Marco, turning his key in the engine, "Have you realized that we've been sitting here for the past ten minutes, because all you like to do is tease me?"

Natasha grinned. "I do like teasing you rather well," she mused. She sounded incredibly British. Marco could never really tell what accent she had—she'd learned English the British way, but spent a big chunk of her life speaking French as well. Either way, he found it ridiculously sophisticated. Can she tell that I'm flirting? Is she flirting back? He would hate to think that she looked at any other person the way she looked at him.