Media | Marc André Ter Stegen

The game

          "No way!! How was it?" Morgan squeals.
I blush as I recall the kiss in my memory. I can still feel his lips on mine and I smile.
         "Amazing."
          "So when are you seeing him again?" She asks.
         "He invited me to the Barcelona game tomorrow. And he said I can bring you. I got VIP tickets!" I rustle around in my purse and pull out two lanyards that double for tickets.
         "Shut up! I'm so down," she grabs a ticket from me and grins.
          "But," I sign.
         "What? No! No buts! The only butt you need to be worrying about is-"
         "Morgan!" I cut her off, laughing.
She laughs and swats my arm.
        "But I'm serious. We leave in two days but so what? You're just having fun with Marc, that's what's important."
            "Yeah... but you know I've never been the 'just having fun' kinda girl."
            "Stay in Spain then," Morgan suggests. "I mean, I'm sure you can find another job considering your talent."
           "What? And leave my life and family and you! All for some guy I just met?" I exclaim.
           "I don't think he's just some guy. I've known you for a long time Lauren Marks. And I've never seen you act like this."

It's the day of the game and my nerves are through the roof. I wring my hands as Morgan finishes getting ready.
She puts on another layer of lipgloss before turning to me.
"Ready?" She asks.
"I guess," I shrug.
"Stop being nervous! This is going to be super fun! You'll see Marc, maybe I'll see some other players," she winks.
I laugh off my nerves and grab my phone.
"Do I look ok?" I ask.
I look down at my outfit. It's a Ter Stegen jersey I bought last night after our date. I'm paring it with skinny jeans that make my butt look great and some sandals. My brown hair is straight and my makeup is applied lightly but still can be seen.
            "You look amazing. Perfect, actually! You're figure is great."
            "Mine? You're the model," I brush her off.
           "I can't have curves like you! Plus you're in good shape. I'm like a pole."
           "Shut up. You're a sexy pole."
          "Let's hope Rafinha thinks so," she winks.

We arrive at the stadium and flash our tickets. We are escorted up to the sky box along with the agents in suits and the families of the players. It's overwhelming and I'm under dressed.
The game is exciting. I've never heard of the other team that Barca is playing but we beat them 6-0. Marc made a few great saves and seemed comfortable on the pitch. I smiled every time he was involved in the play. Morgan and I cheered unashamedly in the otherwise tame sky box. We even made up our own cheers for the team once they got the fourth goal.
The crowd starts dying down and Morgan and I stand back idly.
"Should we try to see him?" I ask.
"Of course! How do we get on the field. This pass should get us something," she flicks my lanyard.
"Not sure," I shrug. "Don't they take pictures with fans or anything?"
"Lauren," she grabs my shoulders, "you're not a fan. You're his... I'm not sure yet but you're not some fan. We're getting on that field." She grabs my hand and leads me out of the skybox.
An elevator waits outside. It's suppose to take us to take us to the ground floor.
"Can we just go to the bottom? Security will surely stop us!" I protest.
"Hey. If I've learned anything in my life it's that if you act like you know what you're doing, people won't question it." She punches the button and my stomach drops along with the elevator.
We exit onto the bottom floor. It's inside the stadium and there are entrances to the field only by the tunnels the players walk through. Two security guards grace the tunnel entrance.
Before Morgan can stupidly try to walk past them I try sending a text to Marc, letting him know where we are.
Morgan holds her head high, flicks her hair back and strides to the tunnel entrance.
She flashes her pearly whites to the guards.
"Excuse me ma'am?" One of them says.
Dang. I thought we got past clear. Well, now I can add jail time to my resume.
"Yes, sir?" Morgan asks in a sweet voice.
"Are you Morgan Wright?" He asks.
"Yes, I am." She doesn't miss a beat.
"My wife was at your show the other night and she's such a big fan of your shoots. Could I get a picture?" He asks.
"Of course. Lauren be a dear and take our picture," she let's the guard wrap an arms round her. I take his phone and snap a picture.
She smolders while his grin looks idiotic.
"Thanks!"
"No problem. Tell your wife I said she's a lucky man," Morgan winks and strides off.
My cheeks burn just by standing in the middle of that conversation. I follow behind her.
"That was something," I comment.
"Looks like people like me here in Spain. Maybe I'll stay a little bit longer and see if I can get any more work," she says causally.
"Really?" I ask hopefully.
"Why not? It's Spain! Let's make a week out of it."
I smile giddily as we come to the end of the tunnel. This one must be for staff and reporters because no players are in sight.
I peak out onto the field. The crowd's cheers deafen me as I search for Marc. Across the away team's bench I spot his tall frame.
He pushes back a stray piece of blonde hair and laughs at something his teammate said.
"Marc!" I call. Of course he doesn't hear me.
I prepare myself, take a breath and stride as casually as I can across the pitch.
This time Morgan is following me.
I stand next to Marc and tap his shoulder.
He turns, meets my gaze and his whole face lights up.
"Lauren!" He exclaims. He lifts me off the ground into a hug, twirling me around before placing me back down. I grip onto him as we spin. I feel his muscles under his sweaty goalie jersey.
"Marc!" I return his excitement. "You did great!" I add.
"Thank you. And thank you for coming," he grabs my hand.
My breath catches as I stare at our intertwined fingers.
I snap back to the present and ask him about the match. I watch his cute face light up as he explains something to me. He's so animated as he talks about the game he loves. I love watching him. His accent sounds wonderful.
"Do you want to come over later? The boys and I are having a little FIFA tournament. You and Morgan should come."
"We'll be there. Text me the address?" I ask.
"Of course. Oh, and I saw your text about being worried that you might be arrested? What happened?"
I laugh, "Well, first off. The security around here stinks."