marks // m. neuer & m. ter stegen

jade || clash

@jadexx: to go study, or to not study; that is my question...

Likes pour into my Instagram notifications as I receive hundreds of likes and comments within seconds.

People tend to call me a 'Tumblr Girl' or an 'Instagram Model' for a reason I can't put my finger on. I mean, I just post for the hell of posting; to document my life and memories you could say.

I though have one liker that catches my attention.

@neymarjr just liked your photo.

I decide to put it off, since this isn't the first time he or another footballer has liked my photo.

My phone is suddenly taken away from my grasp as my roommate and best friend Mercedes grabs it and throws it on the other side of the couch.

Her blue eyes stared into mine as she began to talk, "Alrighty, so it's time for us to go get some coffee or whatever so go an put on a shirt."

I looked down at what I was wearing, a sports bra and just some athletic shorts. "Is it cold outside?" I asked her.

Mercedes looked down at my wrists and stood there in thought. "I mean it's not too cold, but I can see that your scar things are showing so just throw a hoodie on and some leggings so we can roll out."

No one but Mercedes knows about this 'secret' I have. Not even me myself understands what's going, but it seems that whenever someone attractive is in sight, I have these scars that appear on my arms.

Probably happening right now since I just saw a photo of Enrique Iglesias.

I stand up and walk over to my small room, straight to the closet. Without looking, I pull on a Marc-André ter Stegen goalkeeping jersey, a red Barcelona one. Leggings are on my legs in no time as I rush out to the kitchen to slip on some simple ripoff Ugg boots.

Mercedes walks out of her room with both our phones in her hand, wearing a Bayern hoodie and black jeans. She hands me my phone in silence as I roll my eyes, walking out the door of our apartment.

One our way to the café, I start to think about my boyfriend, Marc-André, in fact. Not even he knows about the questionable scars I get; I'm not even sure if he notices them. If he has, then he hasn't asked about them.

"Are you even listening to me?" Mercedes asks, interrupting my thoughts.

I look up at her, "Huh? No, sorry, what'd you say?"

She rolls her eyes before repeating, "Are there any news on whole 'Get Mercedes to Date Rafinha' plan? Like, I don't know... Has Marc-André said anything about it?" In her eyes, you could see so much hope.

I looked at her sympathetically. "Not necessarily, but tomorrow I'm going to the training grounds, and hopefully he'll be recovering, so then I can talk to him," I smile, "I'll do a bit of my magic and he'll be on his knees for you in no time."

Mercedes just laughs and slings her arm around my shoulder. But before we can get very far like that, I feel a body collide with my own.

"Oops, sorry ma'am," he apologizes, then staring at me. His deep blue eyes stare at me for a while before he realizes what he was doing.

"Don't worry about it..."

He kneels down to pick up what I was holding: a phone. I gasp as I look at it in his hands. The screen is shattered and the case has broken in half. "I-I-I'll get it fixed for you. It-It's my fault this happened. Uhm, I'm so so sorry," he stutters terribly. I don't even respond to him. The only thing on my mind is who this man looks like.. and the fact that my phone is shattered but that's beyond the point.