serendipity ≫ mario götze

025

                  "What are the plans for today?" I ask Mario who sighs deeply. It was his only day off this week and he had mentioned that he wanted to spend it with me and do something that would look like a date.

                  "It will be a surprise," he laughs and gets up. My head bounces of his chest onto the pillow and he starts looking through his clothes to end up at an old jersey and he throws it at me. "Wear this, you'll need it." Then he gets back into his clothes and finds something else that seems fit for the occasion, whatever occasion it is going to be. I get rid of my T-shirt, not bothering Mario's presence. He glances over at me and I see his grin changing into a smirk, but he turns around, continuing what he was doing before.

                  "So what is this jersey for?" I ask him.

                  "You'll find out pretty soon," he says when he comes back from the bathroom, "By the way, I wouldn't recommend you wearing those pretty heels, you would only hurt yourself."

                  "You're saying that I can't walk on heels?" I ask him playfully.

                  "I'm just saying that this isn't the best activity to wear heels at," he says and he wraps me into his arms, "I'm so excited to do this, even though I'm almost sure you're going to hate me for it." I wouldn't hate Mario for anything nice he has planned for us. Well, there are some things I would really dislike him for, but not hate. Hate is such a big word. And I do love Mario. I really do love him. A moment later we are leaving. I'm wearing that old jersey and short jeans and sneakers. We walk a few blocks down from the hotel. I personally think it would have been better if we had taken a taxi or at least asked someone to drive us, but Mario explicitly said he wanted to walk.

                  "Can't you just tell me where we're going at least?" I ask him, and wrap my arm around his waist.

                  "I could tell you, but you would know immediately and-," he stops in the middle of the sentence and points at the grassy field in front of us, "There it is. I'm going to teach you how to play football." For some reason I burst out in laughter right there. Mario tried once, and it wasn't such a great success so why would he bother trying it once again?

                  "That will really work out, I'm sure," I roll my eyes and follow him onto the grass. He opens the bag he had been carrying around for the entire walk and he takes a football out of it and rolls it around with his feet. He shoots the ball towards me and for some reason I am not able to catch it with my feet and he rolls between them. I run after it and try to stop it, which most certainly isn't working out either. I wait until it ends at the fence and stops. I pick it up with my hands and walk back, annoyed, towards Mario. "Why do you do this to me all the time?" He laughed and took the ball from me.

                  "You said you wanted to learn how to play football, so I'm learning you how to play, and you don't like that either?"

                  "Not particularly," I answer him and run after the football as he throws it onto the field. I do some magic and end up with the ball in front of my feet. I must be one talented girl, because this hasn't happened to be before. We play for an hour or so, all I know is that I am not at all talented and that all the rules from football are hard to remember. I will try, for Mario, but it's not my thing. But it was fun to play around with him. It was just like a real date.

                  "What would you like to have?" a lady with a heavy accent asks me. We're sitting at a restaurant getting something to eat. I settle for a chicken salad, because I am unfamiliar with all the other dishes on the menu and I'd rather not get sick in a foreign country.

                  "Just the chicken salad?" Mario asks me when the waitress leaves our table. I nod.

                  "I am not quite as hungry at the moment. My muscles hurt already," I lie.

                  "I know you're lying. Remind me not to take you to play football with me ever again," he winks and sips his cola.

                  "You want me to play football with you," I mention, "You like spending time with me."

                  "I don't get to see you as often as I'd like lately, and it makes me feel bad," he suddenly says. This wasn't quite the conversation I was looking forward to having on a 'date'.

                  "Really, don't worry about it. When we're back in Germany, we will probably have more time to spend together," I tell him and play with the cutlery on the table, "Besides, if you want me to come on holiday with me, you'll be stuck with me for another few weeks."

                  "Oh gosh, how will I ever survive?" he laughs.