BACK AGAIN​- ᴊᴜᴅᴇ ʙᴇʟʟɪɴɢʜᴀᴍ

7

I arrived very early the next day to the stadium, mainly to avoid walking in at the same time as Jude. It sounds very childish, I know but apparently I wasn't the only child here as Jude had the same mindset. Thankfully though, he was already sat in one of the couches in the cafeteria, rolling his eyes when he spotted me, turning his eyes back to phone.

I was listening to music so didn't even bother saying anything, not wanting to interrupt the jam in my headset. I just grabbed a coffee from the table, turning away and hiding in my office. I knew eventually I'd have to interact with him whether it was for a session or just any other type of conversation but it was my goal to stretch out that time as much as possible.

I just worked on my computer for a while, editing a few videos as I was still active on YouTube, though my main focus now was Real Madrid. I was going through my Instagram requests, smiling as I saw Real Madrid players' names, as well as a lot of their fans and other clubs. However, my smile dropped when I saw Jude had followed me.

Though being an alright person, I followed him back, not wanting people to think there was anything between us and hoping no one would find out about our history. I wanted to keep my time here as professional as possible so I would try to avoid as much drama as I could.

I scrolled further on Instagram for a while until I heard a knock on the door. As it opened, I saw the coach together with Lucas Vázquez, my apparent first client and possibly a family member.

"Hola Davina ¿cómo estás?" he asks, taking a seat on one of the benches.

"I'm alright Lucas, though everyone keeps asking me online if we're siblings," I laugh, getting a chuckle from him.

"Well, they're idiots, our last names aren't even written the same," he replies.

I do the check up on him, as he had a cramp in his foot during training yesterday but I told him it wasn't anything serious and a days rest would be plenty for it to get better. After him, I checked up on a few more of the players, already tired even though many would say my job wasn't that tiring and I'd agree with them if I wasn't in the field myself, but I somehow still felt tired.

Thinking I was done, I had started packing up my back, but to my avail one last player entered the room. Looking up, I saw Jude fucking Bellingham clutching his shoulder as if in pain, even though he couldn't even feel anything most of the time.

I sigh, not saying a word to him but just gesture to the bench. I knew this was bound to happen but hadn't expected it to be so early on.

"What happened?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, looking away, obviously knowing something.

"Well that won't help me any further will it," just to annoy him. He shrugs again, avoiding eye contact and looking at the ceiling as if it's the colosseum. I only stare at him, my eyes drilling into his soul until he finally spills it out.

"Fine, I ran into the goal and hit my shoulder." He says, clearly embarrassed about it.

"Okay, see that wasn't that hard, unlike the goal," I snicker, turning to him.

"Ugh shut up I forgot how annoying you are," he rolls his eyes. I point to him, telling him to take his shirt off and he easily complies.

Holy shit. He was absolutely jacked. I'll be honest, he was an arsehole and an annoying prick but he looked good, really good. I found myself glancing back down at his body, which made him raise his eyebrows when we locked eyes, causing me to focus back on my actual job.

I could already read his mind. He's probably thinking I'm obsessed with him or something. I'd more than love to slap him out of those thoughts but I was very fond of my current employment and wasn't in any rush to lose it yet. The tension in the room was thick apart from the soft songs of Frank Ocean in the background, coming from my computer.

I softly sang along to Pyramids while inspecting him, almost forgetting that it was Jude, though he quickly made his presence clear by another idiotic remark.

"You're terrible at singing."

"You're not a shit football player," I say, locking eyes with him and for a minute, I thought I saw some form of softness in his eyes until I added onto my sentence; "but I absolutely hate you."

Even then, I thought I saw a sort of amusement in his expression, confusing me. I quickly finished the work, giving him instructions I don't even think he heard because he was too busy being such a narcissist and was happy to kick him out the room, finally being alone again.