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3one3 · 7 years

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The Sequel - 848

10 Kisses

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Can you stop stuffing the melon in for a second and make a nice face?”

“I guess.”

“Say cheeeeeese.”

“Omnomnomnomcheese.”

“Child.”

“Lemme see the picture.”

“Eh?”

“Boat life suits you, Prinzessin. You look amazing. No joking. Look at your eyes!”

I actually thought he looks better than me, Christina mused about her selfie. She was sitting between André’s legs on a lounger, having a post-dive snack, and she wanted a picture because she thought her hair probably looked pretty great. It was half-dry and fully salty, which made for some amazing texture. She felt like she’d achieved by accident that which stylists and girls the world over spend hours of frustration trying to create with tools, techniques, and product combinations. Her partner stopped eating his fruit long enough to “nom” at her neck for the camera instead of just smiling, which was the expression she was asking for. The resulting shot was much sweeter than one with matching smiles would have been. His hair was fully dry and also fully salty, and fully crazy. He trimmed his beard a little that morning, as promised. He’d been in the sun enough to glow. His non-existent lips looked really sexy on her skin, and also somehow endearing. She didn’t even really look at her own image until he pointed out her eyes, which did look pretty special despite the sun. The rest of her upper body looked pretty amazing in a black halter-top bikini too, the player thought as he continued viewing the photo over her shoulder. It was definitely his favorite bathing suit top of all the many he’d seen her wear in recent days.

“You look very in love with me, yeah?” she smirked.

“Yeah, very.” André smooched her cheek and went back to his fruit salad. “Do you know that Mausi is feeding grapes to the dogs right now?”

“They can have grapes,” the rider shrugged. She looked up from her phone to check on their son, who was sitting on a towel not far from the lounger with his bucket of Animal Planet plastic sea creatures. There was an Orca, Hammerhead and Great White sharks, a dolphin, Baleen, Humpback, and Blue whales, plus pink coral and some rocks. Christina filled the clear plastic container with water for him so he could put the toys in there and make them “swim”. As long as Spencer and Lucky were eating grapes, not whales, then everything was fine.

“Should we bring them ashore with us so they can piss on dry land for a change?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure we can bring them into shops and stuff but what would we do with them when we go to the spa?”

“Send them for a walk with Mausi and Espen.”

The rider shrugged and went back to editing her picture for Instagram. Espen was sound asleep on the next chaise lounge, so there was no asking her how she felt about that idea. The whole family was heading to St. Tropez for some afternoon exploring, and then Mom and Dad had a spa appointment for differing treatments and some manicure and pedicure action ahead of dinner for two at a very old, very French estate a bit away from the water. They’d had nearly all their meals with an ocean view for days- even longer for Christina- so André wanted a different atmosphere to go with his Provencal cuisine. And it had to be cuisine. He wanted to take his girl somewhere truly special, and to make it an occasion. There was no particular reason for that desire, other than habit. When they lived in London, an “occasion” happened about every week. The restaurant he picked was once a favorite of Brigitte Bardot. He didn’t know the significance of the name when he read it on the website, but it rang some bells when he Googled it. His dining companion had definitely talked of her before, he was sure.

“Mommy!”

“What?” she asked absently while selecting the proper heart emoji for her post. Lukas shouted her name exactly half the time he said it, so there was no reason to think anything was wrong with him.

“Up.” He wanted to sit on the lounger. It was just tall enough to put him off. He probably could have managed to climb up there, but sometimes he showed a remarkable sense of self-preservation and avoided iffy endeavors. Christina wished he would embrace that impulse more often when his questionable idea involved becoming filthy. Those chances, he always took. She posted the picture and leaned over to give him a lift. He had a shark to give her. “Here, Mommy. For you.”

“Thank you, Munchkin. What is this?”

“It’s a shark,” André stage-whispered behind her.

“Shark!” his son smiled. It was unclear whether he knew the answer or needed the reminder.

“How do sharks swim?” André asked. Lukas held his hands together like a fin on top of his head. His mom congratulated him on getting it right, and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Spencer hopped up onto the lounger next to him to see if he was missing anything. The little boy gave him a kiss just like the one he’d just received. Spencer licked his face in return. “I should stop eating this. We’re having lunch in town.”

“First we have to get to town. We should tell Captain Theo we’re ready to get going, no?” the bronzed woman in the bikini suggested. “They need to put these chairs away and stuff. It takes a little while to get this stupid boat moving.”

“Aren’t we close enough to the port that we can just use the motor to get there?”

“I dunno. I’ll go ask. Who wants to go steer the boat?” she asked in her Lukas-only voice, which delighted her tiny blonde. He held his hands up, wanting to be carried to the bridge. He’s so smart to know he can’t walk there on his own, she thought. He’s used to going to the fly bridge to steer. He can’t do the stairs yet. I actually meant the inside-bridge, down the hall. He could manage that. It would take 10 minutes, but, still. Anyway. “Up you get.” Lukas got a hug before he was installed on her hip for the short walk inside. Her phone rang while she was gone. It was Natasha. André decided to answer it for her.

“Hello, Chris’ phone.”

“André?”

“Speaking.”

“Heyyyy!”

“Hey,” he smiled. “How are you? Is Eden being a lazy bitch?”

“I’m great! And yes, he is. He’s got the whole family waiting on him. How are you all? How is the boat?” Natasha was genuinely excited to talk to him, and he was kind of happy to talk to her too. He missed the Hazards.

“We’re pretty well. The boat is a blessing. Don’t tell Chris, but I thank her dad every day,” the BVB man sniggered. “This is the best wedding present in the history of wedding presents. We’re having so much fun, and Lukas can do more things now and enjoy it more now that he’s a little older than the first time.”

“She sent me a blog post the other night about how she was staying on the boat during the horse show. Whoever wrote it thought it was the most fab and glam thing to ever happen to horse showing,” Natasha laughed back. “It was almost like a gossip piece, but with admiration. Naturally Chris hated it. She sent it to me with a comment like, “Ugh can I live?” There was a great picture of her sitting on a sun lounger in breeches and boots and a bikini top, and a sun hat over her face. I think it’s from an ad.”

“The promoter for the official after party in Monte Carlo set it up for their Instagram, as like the invite to the party. She didn’t really want to do it but I think Juan talked her into it. We get to go to the party for free now or something. You guys should come!” For real, Chris would love it, André thought after the light bulb went on. “What are you doing next week? Bring the kids to Monte Carlo! We have plenty of room, and the kids would love the jumping. We can get an extra chair for Eden’s foot.”

“That sounds like fun but we have plans. Chris made the same pitch. I tried to figure out how to at least stop there for a night, but we’ll be in Ibiza with Thorgan and Marie. I was actually just calling to tell her that we’ll be there long enough to make it so we can’t come to the show and short enough that I won’t still be there for the concert she wants to go to.” The Belgian woman sounded disappointed and sympathetic, and the guy on the other end of the line felt disappointed to, and sympathetic in a different kind of way. She never gets to have real fun with her friends, he thought, meaning Christina. Other girls go away with their girlfriends all the time. Now Chris doesn’t even get to see her best girlfriend. Forget taking holidays together. This is probably half the reason she’s still so close to Juan. He knew that last thought was probably deliberately naive. Living in paradise made it easy to ignore reality though. “Is she around, or is she teaching Lukas how to snorkel or something?”

“Yeah, she’s right here. Hang on.” André handed the iPhone in the Givenchy star case off to a confused looking rider when she returned from her trip to see the captain. “Nat,” he supplied.

The rider put her tiny-swim-trunk-wearing little passenger down to resume playing with his toys, and then hurried excitedly toward the front of the boat to chat with her friend. It was the first non-work call taken in days, and she was clearly delighted about it. Georgina appeared a half-minute later to collect the dishes and forks from snack time and let everyone know that they’d be getting underway soon, on motor power, as the player suspected. Lilly XO couldn’t travel anywhere fast on her engines, by design, but they didn’t have far to go. Using engine power meant nothing needed to be packed up and secured, including the loungers, or any nannies sleeping on them.

“Daddy, take this one,” Lukas ordered as soon as he got back to his plastic cylinder of floating sea creatures. He plucked the dolphin out and held it out for his father- an invitation to come play with him. The big Schü moved down to the small Schü’s towel and sat Indian-style so he could reach into the container with his dolphin and chase Lukas’ killer whale.

“How many kisses have you given Mommy today?” he asked, harkening back to a conversation that had on Monday on the way to the harbor in Cannes. André instructed his son to kiss Christina 10 times per day, because 10 was the highest he could count. Usually he couldn’t even remember past 7, so it was still a bit of a stretch. I want to see if he remembers that we talked about this. Firstly, Prinzessin needs Mausi kisses the way I need Prinzessin kisses. I’m pretty sure she lights up a little every single time he gives her an unprompted kiss. Secondly, Mama said to give him long term projects or goals just to see if he’s able to remember it day to day, or like, have it in the back of his mind. He looks like he’s thinking it over, the player laughed inside while he studied the little boy, who was squinting into the water with concentration and no longer moving his whale around.

“Four.” Lukas held up three fingers with a great sense of surety. His dad helped him unfold another finger to get the correct amount.

“So you need to give her 6 more. How many fingers is 6?”

“One?” He opened his palm all the way and appeared less certain about that quantity than the first.

“What comes after four? One, two, three, four...”

“Five!”

“So how many fingers is 6?”

“This?” Lukas added the pointer from his right hand to the 5 digits from the left, and André congratulated him and gave him a high-five.

“What do you have to do 6 more times?” I should just verify he still knows what we’re talking about here.

“Kiss Mommy. You kiss Mommy too. How many?”

“I’m trying to kiss Mommy more than 10 times. I’m trying to kiss her a number you don’t even know yet.”

“What kind?”

“A big number!”

“Mommy!” Lukas let go of his black and white whale as soon as Christina reappeared, and ran to her with his arms up so that she might pick him up.

“Whatsammatter?” she questioned, glancing from child to husband with furrowed brows.

“Kiss.” Her son stuck his face out to smooch her cheek as he arrived at the necessary height. She got two kisses in close succession, and then he stopped to hold out his fingers and check with Daddy, who counted and held up the rest of the fingers to get to 6. Christina got all of the affection she was owed.

“What is this about?” she laughed.

“None of your business,” André replied, shaking his head.

“Mkay. Are we moving?” The second furrowing of her brows was accompanied by a glance to her right, toward the water. She heard the terribly inorganic sound of the twin motors.

“No but the engines are running. We’re leaving momentarily.”

“I invited Nat to Monaco and Ibiza but she can’t come.” Her questioning expression turned into a turned-over-lip pout, and though comical, it pulled on her partner’s heartstrings. Her inability to prevent her Marc Jacobs sandals from rubbing holes between her toes no matter what tape and Band-Aid solutions she trialed didn’t garner much sympathy. Things relating to her friendships did. He felt responsible for pulling the girls apart.

“Isn’t she going to be available when the season starts and Eden still can’t play but the rest of his brothers are playing and thus not available for vacations? Maybe you two could do something then,” he suggested.

“I’ll be in Tokyo, hopefully.”

André nodded and then asked Lukas to come back and play with him. He didn’t want to discuss the Olympics unless Christina expressly invited a conversation, and even then, he would follow her lead in terms of parameters. The prospect of saying the wrong thing, or asking the wrong question, and kicking off World War III was real, and terrifying. Things didn’t feel so fragile between them anymore that he needed to worry about every word, but if anything was worthy of caution it was the Olympic games. Even just his nod inspired second-guessing. He worried she would think he forgot about the Olympics because it wasn’t important to him and he didn’t care that it was important to her, or that he assumed she wouldn’t make the team. The star rider didn’t seem bothered. She lay on the lounger and reapplied sunscreen on her face.

I’ve been a professional athlete for more years of my life than not, and I still think it’s kind of weird that that girl- that one over there trying to get sun cream out of her eye- could not only be an Olympian but also a medal winner, he thought. The Olympics are different. It’s not like winning a World Cup. There are actually people who don’t care about football. Almost everyone loves the Olympics, and watches, or follows the story lines. People get overly nationalistic about it, even. There are way more people in the world who get to be Olympians than get to play in a World Cup, and most of them are completely unknown outside of their sports. Everyone hears about the top people in the popular sports though. They become characters in a two-week soap opera. I can’t put Chris in that context. I just don’t see it. I don’t think I could know someone like that. It’s weird. It’s weird to think it’s going to be my wife. Maybe it’s because I don’t really see in her the qualities I think I see in other top people. She doesn’t have an enormous personality like them. I think they only wear athletic clothes and look so out of place and awkward in regular clothes. She’s just...a regular person. Of course she has the qualities of a successful athlete- she is tough, determined, dedicated, does everything to get better, needs to win...but there is just something...I don’t know. It’s going to be so weird to watch this unfold. And I’m so nervous for her, but I can’t say that.

“Babe, can you find a napkin or something to dip in my water? I got sunscreen in my eye and it stings.”

“Yes, Prinzessin.” I rest my case.

Several hours later, after shopping, sightseeing, massaging, leg treatments, nail polish, and a lovely dinner, Christina brought up the only other topic André didn’t want to talk about. They went for a stroll along the 500m long jetty separating the two sections of the port from the gulf. It was a beautiful walk, he thought, until she changed the subject. There was a nice breeze that picked up the little pieces of hair that had come loose from her fishtail braid. There was enough light to see that her eyes had turned a particularly tropical blue, set off by the canary yellow little two-tiered silk shift she had on. Her colorful Hermès bangles made a pleasing jangle sound when their hands, linked together casually, swayed between them. Her cork wedges were tall enough that he could smell the perfume on her neck. Not a single other human marred the view or privacy.

“I just...I want to let you know that...I did have a really great week with him, and everything did seem to come together the right way with riding and stuff, and yeah, I did wonder a little bit if it was because of him, but now I’m sure it’s not,” she explained after she asked if it was okay to talk about the Spaniard for a minute.

“Oh?” Andre’s response was flat and borderline disinterested, but she knew it was just irritation.

“Yeah,” she nodded, squeezing his hand a little. “I still feel...normal,” the rider added with extra emphasis. “I don’t revert to doom and gloom every time I have nothing specific to think about like I used to. I don’t have this constant feeling like something is off, or missing. I think, like...my conscience is relaxed...or something. It’s hard to explain.” Her eyes stayed mostly on her Tiffany blue toe nails as they walked along the concrete with calm water and boats of all shapes and sizes on one side and slightly more active-looking seas on the other. There was a storm approaching, a few hours away yet, and the water foretold it as much as the clouds moving quickly by the moon. That was the primary reason Lilly XO was docked in port instead of moored offshore. Before that conversation, she’d been thinking about how it only took 6 years to “train” André to shorten his walk alongside her, and slow it when she wore heels.

“Okay.” He was still somewhat noncommittal about her testimony, mostly because he was trying to figure out how to take it. Is she telling me this because it’s true, or because she feels guilty and wants me to think Juan and I are equals or something? Why would you bring this up now, after such a wonderful evening?

“I’m trying to tell you you make me happy, idiot,” Christina tutted. “You could at least smile.”

“Is that really what you’re trying to say though?” he asked quickly in response to her lighthearted ribbing. “A few days on the boat together and all of a sudden the Happy Place thing is in effect again? Is that even real? Everything is easy on vacation.”

“No it isn’t! We’ve had vacation together and it has not been easy. And yes, that is really what I’m trying to say, and yes it’s real. Babe,” the expat snorted through her nose, frustration building. “I’m telling you I’m happy. Can’t you...react better?”

“I’m happy you’re happy, Prinzessin.” André let go of her hand to put his arm around her shoulders instead, which felt impersonal to her. He didn’t really do shoulders. He did arm-around-the-neck-to-pull-you-close. “I just don’t understand what’s different except that you were alone in horse show paradise with Juan long enough to get over the things that have troubled you, and we’ve avoided all difficult conversations long enough to maybe get over the things that have troubled us. It doesn’t make me feel good that you needed someone else. I accept that, but it isn’t satisfying.”

“Well I can’t do anything about that, and I don’t see it that way anyway.”

“I know.” A top-of-the-head kiss did little to change how either of them felt. Christina thought she was telling her husband something that would please him, and reassure him. All André heard was that his ex-teammate fixed everything- that he had the magic healing power to repair his girl’s soul or something similar and set everything right for her so that she could be happy in the various avenues of her life.

They got back to the beginning of the quay, where the empty street joined the packed street. The one that snaked around the edge of the old basin was lined with quaint, charming little cafes with patrons spilling outside in front of the pastel building fronts. There was a kind of Old World feeling about the area that the footballer really enjoyed. He was going to suggest they pick a random establishment to check out and grab one less glass of wine, or a cocktail, but by the time he got to the end of the walk he wasn’t sure if that was what he wanted anymore. Lilly XO was back the other way. They’d already walked past her. She was tied up adjacent to the quay because it was the only place she fit. Unlike the other ports they visited, St. Tropez was hosting more sailboats than superyachts. Most of them were much smaller than Christina’s. He stopped them both to avoid a rogue and likely intoxicated scooter driver, and then lingered in indecision about which way to go- onward, toward a nightcap, or back from whence he came, to wind down onboard.

“Do you want to keep walking?” his wife asked when his standing still became weird and awkward.

“I dunno. Do you want a drink or something, or should we head back?”

“I would like a drink, but only if you’re gonna be charming and flirty, and not quiet and pensive.” Christina winked up at him and stepped out from under his arm to right the dainty chain on which her purse hung from her shoulder. Much to her disappointment, she didn’t receive a return wink, or even a smile. Her face fell. “Please, boyfriend. I want to have fun with you. I have been having fun with you. Don’t think too hard. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“You’re so funny.”

“You’re so handsome.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“That is patently untrue.”

“Give it your best shot.”

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