Like We Used To || Manuel Neuer

16

        I check out of my villa the following day and settle in a humble abode far-flung from German footballers. My new hotel is closer than before to Belo's bistro—less than a ten minute walk, actually—so I find myself streaming in and out of there frequently. For Deutschland's match against USA and Algeria, I stick by his side, humoring myself through his complaints as his selected teams continue to fail.

In the weeks that gradually pass, Asher gives me tours around Rio.

The two of us stroll through the famous Copacabana beaches, surf through Leblon, and take goofy selfies in front of the statues of Christ the Redeemer. Everything is so pretty in person; deciding to stray from the footballers and spend more time with Asher Franke—I conclude—is one of my more intelligent life decisions.

After all, the more time I have spent with him, the more I have retired from unwanted thoughts of Manuel, and thus, the more I have been seeing tings gradually tying back together in a simple, realistic way.

By the time Mama calls me with the date of my ticket, I have made enough blissful memories with Belo and Asher to go by. The ticket slithers out of my mail on the date of Deutschland's match against Brazil, a day that coincidentally falls upon the day of my birthday. Seeing the ticket in person, outstretched on my palms, I begin to contemplate my decision to leave.

The flight is scheduled to leave in five days; in the night of the finale. 

I neatly secure the ticket in a safe in my bedroom before heading for the bistro.

Upon reaching, I am greeted by an arguing Belo and Asher. Belo is openly gloating about Fernandinho and Asher is rolling his eyes, advertising Schweinsteiger shamelessly. My heart momentarily itches at the mention of Bastian, but I do nothing to react.

"Easy there, dolls. The game hasn't started yet," I tell the boys as I slide onto a stool.

"Belo's being a pain in the ass, Azelie!" Asher moans. "Tell him he's being a dick and we deserve free beer for putting up with him."

"Belo, Asher says you're being a dick and we deserve free beer for putting up with you."

"Tell Asher I have an assault rifle in the back storage and I'm not afraid to use it," Belo retaliates, making me giggle. 

"Hey Ash, you got that?" I call out. 

Asher scoffs. "Belo's just butthurt that every team he sides loses!"

"I am this close to kicking you out of here, kid," Belo warns.

I pout. "Forget him, Belo. What about me? Can I have freebies?"

"No."

"But it's my birthday!"

He cracks a smile at me. "Aw, is that so?"

"Yup! Twenty eight as of today."

"You're getting so old! Good for you. You're still not getting free beer." 

"Not as much as you, old man," I respond slyly. "Anyway, I don't care if it's free or not. I just want you to fix me the greatest beer you've ever done in your life. Make the woe be gone!"

"On it," Belo says before rushing to the back to prepare a drink for me. 

As he slithers out of view, I turn to face Asher. "Hi."

He laughs. "Hey."

"So—"

"—you talked to Neuer?" Asher pries, raising an eyebrow. As you can see, Asher is very subtle. "You're radiating an oddly depressing vibe so I'm assuming that you talked to him? Or are we still avoiding that bunch?"