stuck on you || draxler

deux

Julian tugged at the sleeve of her white blouse, which was paired with black jeans and an apron to top it all off—the everyday attire Marcelle was required to wear to work. Of course she looked the same to him, she didn't wear makeup, but that didn't matter. What did matter to him was the fact that he met her once again even when he was so sure they were never going to see each other again.

"And I expected you to go after models, not girls like me," she told him, tapping her fingertips on the table. "You know, those lingerie models that live in eighth arrondissement. Speaking of  models, there's this blondie that lives a few minutes away—"

"No, I'm serious, Marcelle," Julian laughed. "Why are you working in a café? I thought you played football."

The Frenchwoman stood there, still, for a few moments before realizing what Julian's initial assumption about her was.

The boy thought she was an actual footballer. But, he must be stupid because if she was, she wouldn't have to be working in a café five days a week!

"I don't get money from playing football. I just play the sport. My actual job is working at this café," she explained. "Anyways, are you ready to order?"

He looked stressed out by just looking at a café menu, and she swore she was going to leave him if wasn't going to make up his mind in two seconds. "What's the best thing on the menu?"

"Everything."

He blinked. "Might as well get everything."

Julian must be kidding—he's a terrible liar. But no, he looked serious. "Okay, well," she started writing on her notepad, "have fun with that."

"I was kidding," he said, watching her tear the note and crumble it into the pocket if her apron. "You didn't really think—"

"No, I'm not stupid." She gave him a look, impatient for him to finally make a damn choice. A girl like her didn't have time for guys like Julian, she worked this job for the money, and he definitely was in her way. "Now, can you just make a decision? You're killing me."

Despite trying to adapt to his new life in Paris, the toughest decision Julian had ever had to make so far was what he wanted to eat, and honestly, he felt like a child for taking this long to figure out what he wanted from a café menu. But he had the most beautiful girl in all of Paris serving him today, and he's still determined to get that date.

He wasn't kidding when he said that he really wanted a date with her. He just felt so attracted to her the moment he saw her face, and maybe it was just plain attraction because she was pretty, but he Julian didn't care.

He was going to get that date.

"Why are you working at a café?" he inquired, putting the menu down on the table. "I expected you to not work. Or, be a student."

Marcelle sighed, possibly either from the question itself or the fact that Julian was wasting her time. "Money."

"So you would get together with me if I started giving you money? Consider that done."

"What? No!" she exclaimed, though, it sounded like a plausible plan in the first place. "I work so I can get money to pay off living here in Paris. If it hasn't clicked for you, it's expensive to live here."

It didn't take long for the German to process the information in his head. So Marcelle is in need of money to pay off her living expenses, not the answer I was expecting out of a twenty-one year old who plays football.

She looked to be someone who had money. The kind who came from a pretty rich family who's able to support her up until she's able to do so herself. Julian doesn't know why, but it must have been the way she looked. The face of a rich girl—pretty unforgettable.