R O M E S S A / M A R C O.
Playing Games
S H A E D - Trampoline
"my body turns to ice,
crushing weight of paradise;
solid block of gold, lying in the cold,
I feel right at home."
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2021 updated a/n: even though romessa's overall faceclaim is eiza gonzalez, I will use photos of differing women who fit her description (brown hair/brown eyes) to depict her social media presence! i find that a variety of faces makes it things more interesting :)
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romessa: #butfirst...😘
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"Get over here, you!" Bella squeezed Romessa in a hug, pulling her into her apartment before speaking again. "Julian told me you were super hot now—I guess he wasn't lying."
After a week of sitting around and doing nothing but work, Romessa was beyond bored. So she finally gave in and called the phone number she had under the name Bella de la Torre—she'd heard from Julian himself that the two were recently engaged. Bella never left Germany after visiting the country with their class, instead deciding to take a year off of university in order to remain by Julian's side—but a year turned to several, and days ago, Julian proposed to her. According to Bella, Romessa called at a perfect time—Bella was having an engagement party in just a week's time, and invited Romessa to join her in doing some preliminary wine tasting at their apartment.
Romessa tittered at Bella's remark, stepping into the apartment and gazing around. "Well, you aren't so bad looking yourself. Is Julian here?"
"No, he's out with his teammates. God knows what he's up to." Bella flashed her ring finger, a big grin on her face. "Can you believe it? I didn't know we were at this stage in the relationship, but look at the size of this thing!"
Romessa smiled. She was happy for Bella—her own relationship with Julian had always been a joke, anyways. "Congratulations. You haven't changed a bit, have you?"
Bella's cheeks mantled a rosy shade. "Not much, I admit. But I can't say the same about you, can I?" she rose her eyebrows in amusement. "Fill me in. I want all the details. Oh, but let's wait until Cathy gets here."
Romessa felt herself grow slightly excited. Cathy! How could I forget? She hadn't reached out to the German at all. "Cathy's coming?"
Before Bella could respond, the doorbell sounded, leaving the American to smile. "Cathy's here."
The three women spent several minutes greeting one another, commenting on frivolous things such as their new appearances, their nice shoes. They eventually settled down in Bella's living room, where all attention was on Romessa. They wanted to know everything about her life for the past two years, and she told them; from her time as a student to to her deportation. "So I ended up here, in Dortmund," she finished. "I'm working on Athleta with the Bundesliga. I don't know for how long, though—I suppose until Marco recovers."
Cathy's eyes widened as she sipped on her glass of wine. "You're working with Marco?"
Romessa nodded. "Almost daily," she responded. "It's...difficult."
"Difficult? Working with Marco Reus?" Bella let out a laugh. "Remember the crush I had two summers ago? I still look at the man and feel butterflies in my stomach. I'd praise the gods if I was forced to work with Marco Reus." She paused, looked between a blushing Cathy and a smirking Romessa, and then spoke again. "I'm missing something, aren't I?"
Romessa rose her eyebrows. "Marco and I had an affair that one summer," she admitted. "I never told you. You were obsessed with him." And I couldn't stand you. Although Bella still had the same eccentric personality, she was far less overbearing and more mature—Romessa was grateful for the change.
Bella gasped. "Oh, Romy! But I thought it was with Robert?"
"Oh, God, no." Romessa nearly gagged at the mention of Robert's name. "Robert was obsessed with me, but I despised him. It was always Marco. Even when I was with Julian. But we were good at keeping it a secret."
"Oh my god," Bella's lips turned into a knowing smile. "Julian knew, didn't he? He never told me."
"Well, why would he?" Romessa snorted. "He was embarrassed, I'm sure."
"I see why it's such a big deal, then. What do you plan on doing about it?" Bella moved on to another wine that she had laid out on the table. Wine tasting, Romessa realized, was really just an excuse to get drunk during the daytime—and, having finished her lectures and grading for the day, she was completely willing to do so. She lectured on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and worked with Marco on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays—it was a Thursday today.
"I don't know," Romessa admitted. "It's been a week since I've started working with him. I know that I should say something, but I feel so resentful of how things ended between us. I feel resentful of how weak it made me to love him." She paused. "I'm good at shutting things out, but not Marco. I catch him looking at me, he catches me looking at him. It's a cat and mouse game."
"Certainly he's the mouse, then." Cathy was the picture of elegance as she held her wine glass in the air. "Look at you. You've grown so much, and I can see it. Whatever you do, don't let it be like before. If it's a cat and mouse game, make sure you're the cat. You should be the one in control this time."
Romessa bit her lip, knowing that Cathy was right. Things were different from how they were when Romessa was a teenager. When she was naive enough to fall head over heels for Marco, to let him control the reigns of their relationship. "But who's to say that I'll do anything?" She finally spoke. "I mean, it would be unprofessional. I see him almost every day. And the last thing I need is more drama."
"It'll be easier than you think," spoke Cathy, with a wise smile. "Far easier than not. Believe me."
"Just because you feel obliged to do the right thing doesn't mean it's what you really want," Bella chimed. "Do you still feel things, for him?"
Romessa unhesitatingly shook her head. "Not at all," she responded. "I don't feel things anymore. Not towards men, anyways. It's a great strength of mine."
"Cheers to that," snorted Bella. "But if you don't feel anything for him, then why does it seem so hard for you to be around him?"
Before Romessa could even generate a response, commotion sounded through the halls of the apartment, causing Bella to roll her eyes. "Julian's back," she declared. "They'll try to take our wine."
"They?" Romessa watched as Julian strolled into the living room, accompanied by several of his other teammates—Romessa only recognized some of them. Just as she was preparing to shift her attention to more important matters—such as pouring more wine in her glass—there he was. Marco.
Romessa stared at the German from under her eyelashes, her head tilted down as she took a graceful sip from her wine glass. Marco wore black joggers and a grey t-shirt; he still hadn't removed the sunglasses that he'd been wearing outside. Romessa watched as he removed them to reveal that he was staring at her, and shamelessly at that. She didn't cower from his gaze—she only took another sip from her glass as Julian spoke. "Did you drink all the wine? We had several bottles when I left."
"It's Romessa's fault," responded Bella. "She's had like five glasses, and she fills them to the brim!"
Romessa faked shock, despite the fact that Bella was right. Drinking had become her vice since university—like Marco and smoking. She wondered if he still did that. When she looked at him and felt something inexplicable churn in her stomach, she certainly wished she had a cigarette herself.
"If Romessa did it, it's fine," teased Julian. He made a playful kissy face at the Moroccan, causing Bella to laugh as Julian spoke more. "We'll be in the den, playing FIFA. Don't distract us—it's serious business. Marco and I are rematching, and he doesn't want anyone to see him cry when he loses."
Romessa watched as Marco rolled his eyes at Julian's remark before his eyes found hers again. This time, a corner of his mouth—just one corner—turned up, forming a charmingly lopsided smirk. But it was more than a smirk, and Romessa knew it. It was the look—the same one he'd give her when she was a teenager. When they were in public, but he wanted her alone. When they were around people who didn't know about what they had, but he still wanted to express his desire for her. Romessa averted her gaze, refusing to give into whatever gimmick he was trying to pull—and when she looked back up, he was gone.
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Marco stood in Julian's kitchen on his right foot, extending the left leg slightly backwards in order to relieve his ankle. Leaving the crutches at home had been a ridiculous idea—Jessica tried to advise him against it, and he should've listened. Still, Marco had lost the FIFA match against Julian, and this was his punishment—getting drinks for all five of the men that he'd played with.
He could hear the faint voices of Bella, Cathy, and Romessa in the living room, but their words were difficult to distinguish. It wasn't like he cared, anyways—Romessa had made it clear that she wanted little to nothing to do with him. The German froze suddenly as he heard the sound of heels clinking against the wooden flooring of the apartment. Only one person could be wearing heels like that, he thought. Even the sound of her walking catches my attention. Slowly, he watched as Romessa entered the kitchen.
When her eyes met his, she stopped moving. She still held her wine glass, and Marco wondered just how tipsy she must've been. But she didn't look tipsy. Dressed in wedge heels and a long-sleeved bodysuit tucked into denim cutoffs, she looked just the opposite. He took his time staring at her—the way her large breasts created the appearance of a waist which seemed even tinier than it actually was, the way her shorts could hardly handle her round ass. After moments of silence, she finally broke it. "You'd be better off taking a picture."
Marco's cheeks warmed. "I think you know I can't help it," he muttered.
"You can't help what?" Marco watched as Romessa smirked slightly. Slowly, she stepped towards him. The sound of her heels was immeasurably arousing; perhaps because it made him look at her toned legs, which were even more so pleasing. Don't think like that, Marco reminded himself. You have a wife. You have a family. She's in the past.
"We shouldn't do this," he warned. "I don't like playing games."
Romessa walked past him, her arm brushing against his, before she located an empty glass to pour water into. After getting a glass and sipping on it, she leaned against the same counter as Marco before speaking. "Now what makes you think that I would ever play games with you?" She sipped her water again. "You don't ever want to play a game with me," she grinned. "You'd lose."
"What is it that you want, then?" Marco suddenly pouted. "You showed up a week ago with that look in your eyes. Things haven't been the same for me since." Slowly, he gravitated towards her, ignoring the voices in his head which demanded him not to. "Do you feel the same?"
"I don't feel anything," Romessa muttered, her sharp gaze piercing Marco's. It was almost intimidating, how different she was now than he remembered her being at eighteen. Romessa was quick, observant, unafraid. She was fiercely independent, and she knew what she wanted. Her intelligence and her professional work had made her increasingly well-known throughout the world—he could Google her with ease, and he'd done just that, several times over. But he couldn't search up anything about her private life—most importantly, he couldn't tell whether or not she was single. Her eyes met his. "Not in here, at least." She placed a hand her left breast. Not her breast, Marco realized. Her heart.
He swallowed. Ouch? "That's impossible," he declared.
"Nothing is impossible," responded Romessa.
"Then you and I are strangers," Marco responded. "Is that how it'll be, moving forward? We'll speak nothing of the past?"
"We won't speak of the past," repeated Romessa. She lowered her head and sent Marco a wanton gaze from under her eyelashes. "But it doesn't mean we're strangers."
Marco drew in a breath. "What does it mean, then?"
Romessa bit her lip and closed her eyes. "There's a reason I don't talk to you when we're at the facilities," she spoke. "It's because I can feel you looking at me. It felt strange at first. Not unpleasant, just strange."
Marco still held a breath in his throat as he responded, practically gripping onto the edge of the counter in anticipation as he waited for Romessa to continue. "But then?"
"But then it began to feel good," she responded, opening her eyes. Her pupils were dilated, causing her eyes to appear darker. Marco suddenly felt like he was too far away from her—but she was a foot away. And she'll stay a foot away, he told himself.
"You like it when I look at you," he murmured. That was good—he couldn't take his eyes off of her. Tell her that you're married, he thought. Tell her that it can't go farther than looking. But he remained quiet, watching as Romessa bit her lip and ran a hand through her dark hair.
"I know that you're trying to resist me," she responded, just as quiet. She reached forward and brushed her fingers against Marco's arm, observing the tattoos which she'd once memorized so well. There were a few new ones, however, that she didn't recognize. Marco closed his eyes. Her touch was immaculate. Her fingers radiated and spread a sense of electricity throughout his body that he hadn't felt in years—that he hadn't felt since he had her. He knew he wasn't in the right headspace to make these brash decisions. He was beyond sexually frustrated—it'd been over a week since he had Jessica had any action in the bedroom. If I can just get back to Jessica, if I can just relieve myself, then this'll all end.
"I'm not trying to resist you," Marco finally admitted. Romessa grinned, causing Marco to run a hand over his blonde hair. Fuck, he thought. It's too late. I'm in. But there's no harm. As long as she doesn't touch me, and as long as I don't touch her. Marco's eyes scanned her body again, causing him to bite his lip. Finally, he found his confidence again, standing up straighter and strengthening his voice. "If you keep giving me that smile, and if you keep looking at me with those eyes, we're going to do something that we'll regret. Something that we can't take back."
Romessa tilted her head. Before turning and strutting out of the kitchen—Bella was growing impatient—she spoke, her voice daring Marco to abandon all rationality. "I've already done something with you that I regret," she stated. "This time around, I'll be sure I don't make the same mistake."
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AUTHOR'S NOTE/QUESTION:
what do you aspire to be when you "grow up"? I'd like to be a lawyer (: