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𝑮𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑺𝑬𝑹 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — 𝐉𝐎𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐌

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✧༚ ˎˊ ˗ pairing: jobe bellingham x fem!oc

✧༚ ˎˊ ˗ sumary: Jobe and Sarah finally give in to the attraction that consumes them. Amidst intense touches and unspoken promises, the chemistry between them reaches its peak, but the impending farewell leaves a taste of uncertainty.

✧༚ ˎˊ ˗ warnings: NSFW, a hint of anguish and a little dominance if you close one eye.

count: 10.9k sorry!

# tags: @lonely-world3 @barcagirly @formulafortyfour @kennaskorner @anifffff @jessnotwiththemess @irishmanwhore @oceanfanatic06 @haartemis @eriks-girl @peyiswriting @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @sucredreamer @virgilsgurl @everlyjay @kj77 @muglermami @sailurmewn @goldenngt @cranberryjulce @darkskinchristiandiorpostergirl @amirawrah if you want it removed, let me know!

keara’s imessage: myyyyy jobe girls 🗣️ forgive me for the delay, I warned you that I didn't like what I wrote before, but I crossed the line on this one. Thanks for all the love and if you want to be tagged, just let me know. enjoy the chapter 💕

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Sarah had never planned to fall in love during her exchange program. She had always been picky and cautious when it came to relationships. She had no interest in "raising boys," especially getting involved with someone who might be younger.

But Jobe... he was nothing like the people she had met before. The dilemma of being in your twenties is that you could – potentially – get involved with someone younger or someone older. There's always this inner conflict about what you actually want in a relationship – whether you want to deal with someone still figuring out how to handle life or someone who's already focused on financial success, because after thirty, building stability becomes a priority.

For the Brazilian, these questions had started to surface more and more each day. She was determined to stick to her original goals, trying to fully focus on her studies, but somehow she found herself more and more drawn to someone who was constantly stealing her attention. Sometimes she would catch herself just staring at him, thinking, "How did this even happen?"One look into his eyes and Sarah was completely lost. It was hard not to fall into temptation, hard not to crave being closer every day. She hoped she wasn’t rushing things, but there was something she simply couldn’t put into words. She had never met anyone like him before.

The distance between them was challenging, but somehow, they were making it work. Their daily video calls had quickly become Sarah’s favorite part of the day.

Their communication was getting better and better. Sarah’s English classes were paying off, even with all those impossible phrasal verbs he loved to use. And she had taught him a few words in Portuguese too. It was adorable how he tried to say "saudade" – equally cute and hilarious. Jobe loved saying "meu bem" and "linda demais" whenever he thought she wasn't paying attention.

And it had only been two weeks since that first call that brought them back into each other's lives.

Some people around Sarah had already noticed how distracted and unavailable she seemed; her free time was now filled with calls that somehow made the distance feel shorter. They hadn’t met again in person yet, but it didn’t matter. Some of her friends had even spotted the Sunderland shirt she got after the match and asked questions, but Sarah kept it low-key, just like they had agreed. Some things were meant to stay just between the two of them – even though she was dying to share everything with the world. To her, he was simply Jobe. But to the world, he was still Jobe Bellingham.

Sarah remembered when she used to say she didn’t want to fall in love, didn’t trust anyone anymore, didn’t want to care too much ever again. But Jobe had changed all of that. And day by day, she was letting herself fall even harder.

The Uber weaved through the streets of Manchester while Sarah nervously tapped her fingers against her bag. The improvised lie from the night before weighed heavily on her conscience. She had sent Jobe a message saying that an unexpected issue with her course was preventing her from going to the match. She could still picture his reply — short, polite, but carrying a hint of disappointment he had tried to hide.

Her surprise had almost been ruined when she arrived at the hotel where she would be staying and ran into a few members of Sunderland’s staff at the reception. For a few seconds, her heart skipped a beat as she quickly scanned the lobby for any sign of Jobe. But it was just some staff members. She had been so close — Jobe and the other players had walked through the lobby just minutes later, coming back from their training session at the stadium.

Luckily, Sarah was already on her way to her room.

Her own foolishness had almost ruined the moment she had carefully planned for so long. If she had just asked Jobe where they would be staying, there wouldn’t have been any close calls. But she learned her lesson.

The stadium was already visible in the distance when she picked up her phone and dialed his number. It had to be a quick call. Sarah took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. Three rings, and he answered.

"Hey!" she said, smiling the moment she heard his breathing on the other end. "I just wanted... to wish you good luck..."

She could feel the surprise in his voice, that slight pause of someone who hadn’t expected the call. Jobe said something about getting ready to step onto the pitch, but she caught the lighter tone, as if her call had softened the disappointment he had tried to hide about her supposed absence.

"Are you getting another call?" she asked when she heard another ringtone in the background.

"Yeah, it’s Jude. I need to answer."

"Go ahead. I'll be cheering for you from here. Don’t forget my goal!" she teased.

The driver announced their arrival at the stadium. Sarah zipped her jacket up to her neck, feeling the fabric of the new, autographed Sunderland jersey she wore underneath—a gift Jobe had sent her the previous week. Across her back, his name and number were printed, making her heart race in ways she still couldn't quite explain.

With hesitant steps, she made her way toward the VIP entrance, where players' families gathered. Everything still felt overwhelming; Sarah had been nervous ever since she picked up the ticket earlier that morning—managing to do so discreetly, without Jobe finding out.

The security guard checked her name on the list and gestured for her to move down the hallway. Suddenly, the full weight of her impulsive decision hit her: she was about to watch a match in the section usually reserved for the players' families.

An attendant guided her toward her seat, and Sarah found herself impressed by it all. For a second division team, today's stadium was seriously impressive.

When she entered the reserved box, Sarah froze. The first pair of eyes she met belonged to a middle-aged man whose features were unmistakably familiar—the same eyebrows, the same posture. Mark Bellingham studied her for a few seconds before a spark of recognition lit up his face.

"You must be Sarah," he said, approaching with a warm smile that didn’t quite match the stern image she had built in her mind based on the few photos she had seen. "Jobe’s going to be... well, ‘surprised’ doesn’t even begin to cover it."

"I-I... yes, I am... It's such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bellingham," she stammered, suddenly feeling like all the English words she had learned had fled from her mind. "Sorry for not... telling you I was coming."

"Mark, please," he corrected kindly. "Come on, let me introduce you to everyone."

Everyone?

A man sitting with his leg stretched out over one of the seats turned when he heard the conversation. Sarah recognized him immediately from magazines and match broadcasts: Bellingham. Jude Bellingham, Jobe’s older brother, Real Madrid star — currently sidelined with an injury — was right there in front of her. Beside him, an elegant woman with piercing eyes observed Sarah with an expression she couldn't quite read.

"So you're the famous Sarah," Jude said with a wide grin, reaching out his hand. "Finally meeting the person who has my brother checking his phone every five minutes."

Sarah felt embarrassment flood every part of her body as she accepted his handshake. "Nice to meet you... sorry for showing up... without warning," she managed, her voice barely steady.

"Don’t apologize," Jude laughed. "He’s going to love the surprise."

When Sarah turned to greet Denise, the boys’ mother, a wave of nerves hit her. The woman’s gaze was intense, assessing, and for a moment Sarah was certain she had made a terrible mistake by coming unannounced.

"Sarah," Denise said simply, extending her hand with graceful poise. "Jobe mentioned you wouldn’t be coming."

"It was... uh... a last-minute change of plans," Sarah explained, struggling to find the right words in English. "I hope I'm not... intruding. It was supposed to be... a surprise."

Something in Denise’s expression softened, almost imperceptibly. "Anyone who makes my son smile the way you do is more than welcome."

The tension in Sarah’s shoulders eased just a little. Jude pulled out an empty chair beside him and patted the seat.

"Come, sit here. I want to hear all about how you manage to put up with my brother."

The comment earned a nervous laugh from Sarah, and Jude seemed to pick up on her discomfort. With an easy charm, he began sharing embarrassing childhood stories about him and Jobe, speaking slowly and clearly so she could follow, occasionally repeating himself when he noticed her confusion.

The teams entered the pitch for the warm-up, and Sarah’s heart leapt when she spotted Jobe among the players. He looked focused, completely unaware of the surprise waiting for him in the family box.

"He hasn’t looked this way yet," Mark commented, as if reading her thoughts. "He’s always been like that. When he's on the pitch, the whole world disappears."

***

The stadium buzzed with the energy of 20,000 people gathered for the decisive match. Jobe adjusted his number 7 shirt and took a deep breath, feeling adrenaline rush through his veins, just like it always did before a big game. But today, there was something different. A restlessness he couldn't quite name.

His gaze swept across the crowd until it landed on a specific spot — the VIP box where players' families usually sat. His parents were there, Mark and Denise, chatting with Jude. And next to them... She.

Sarah wasn’t supposed to be there. She hadn’t mentioned anything about coming. But there she was, with her unmistakable golden curls and a smile that seemed to light up the whole stadium. Sarah laughed at something Mark said, and for a brief moment, she opened her jacket, revealing the team shirt underneath — the very same one Jobe had autographed and sent to Manchester just a few days ago. The one she had told him she kept tucked away every night like a special gift. The thought made something flip inside his stomach.

When Sarah noticed Jobe staring, she gave him a discreet wave, her smile growing wider. He felt warmth spread through his chest. Quickly, he tore his gaze away, forcing his focus back onto the field. He couldn’t get distracted. Not today. Not by her.

"Focus, Jobe," he muttered under his breath, adjusting his shorts.

Chris approached, giving his shoulder a firm pat. "Would you look at that — the Brazilian actually showed up."

Jobe tried to keep his face neutral, but the weight on his shoulders grew heavier. "Didn’t think she would."

"And I couldn’t take one more minute of you moping around after almost scaring her off with all that commitment-phobia of yours," Chris laughed. "Good thing Eliezer and I knocked some sense into you. Must be the first girl who’s ever made you this nervous."

"I'm not nervous," Jobe replied automatically, though he knew it was a lie.

"Sure," Chris said, shaking his head, amused. "One day, someone was bound to break through all those walls, mate. Just didn’t expect it to be an older woman with that look — like she knows exactly what she wants."

Before Jobe could respond, the whistle blew, calling the teams onto the field. He took a deep breath, pushing all thoughts of Sarah to a far corner of his mind. It was game time. His territory — the place where he knew exactly who he was and what he had to do.

The match kicked off at a fierce pace, just as expected. Jobe threw himself into the game with the iron discipline that defined him on the pitch. For forty straight minutes, he maintained laser-sharp focus, organizing plays in midfield, contributing both in defense and attack. The scoreboard remained 0–0, a reflection of the tension and balance between the two teams.

It was during a stoppage — an opponent down, receiving treatment — that his focus betrayed him. Almost instinctively, his eyes searched for Sarah in the VIP box. She was standing, chatting with his mother, Denise. Something about the sight — Sarah talking to his family like she already belonged — made his heart race.

What were they talking about? Was Sarah nervous? He could hear her Brazilian accent in his mind, the slight stumble over words when she got anxious. Was his mother being kind to her?

"Earth to Jobe!" The coach’s voice snapped him back to reality. "I’ve been talking to you for a minute now! What’s going on? I’ve never seen you this distracted."

"Sorry, coach. It won’t happen again."

The coach studied him for a moment before continuing with the tactical instructions. Jobe nodded mechanically, his eyes trained on the coach’s face, but his thoughts drifting elsewhere.

When the game resumed, Jobe forced himself to focus solely on the ball and the movements of the opponents. It worked, for a while. Until, fifteen minutes into the second half, a perfect opportunity arose. He stole the ball in midfield, dribbled past two defenders, and seeing open space ahead, advanced decisively towards the goal. At the edge of the box, with surgical precision, he shot towards the lower right corner, leaving the goalkeeper with no chance.

The stadium erupted in celebration as Jobe ran, arms wide open, toward the sidelines. Amid the euphoria, his teammates jumped on him, celebrating the goal. When he finally managed to break free from the group hug, Jobe did something he had never done before — he turned towards the VIP box and pointed directly at Sarah.

It was an impulsive gesture, completely out of character for his usually reserved nature, but at that moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. From a distance, he saw Sarah’s face light up in a radiant smile as she covered her face shyly. Beside her, Jude elbowed their father, pointing and apparently making some comment that made Mark laugh and shake his head.

"Wow, the ice man finally melted!" Eliezer joked, passing by as they headed back to their positions. "Never thought I'd see the day Jobe 'I-don’t-get-attached' Bellingham would dedicate a goal to someone."

Chris joined in the teasing: "The Brazilian must have magic powers! We need to thank her later."

Jobe just smiled, for the first time not caring about the teasing from his friends. The feeling of having scored a goal and openly dedicating it to Sarah was strangely freeing.

The rest of the game was a showcase of his talent on the field. As if freed from a weight he hadn’t even realized he was carrying, Jobe played with a fluidity and creativity that drew applause from the crowd. In the thirty-eighth minute of the second half, he assisted the second goal, sealing the 2–0 victory.

When the final whistle blew, Jobe felt a mix of euphoria from the win and anxiety about what was to come. He knew that, unlike other times, he couldn't simply avoid Sarah. Not after that public gesture. Not after seeing her talking with his parents.

In the locker room, he tried to focus on the team’s celebrations and the quick interviews with journalists. But his mind kept returning to the image of Sarah in the VIP box, wearing his autographed jersey, flashing that smile that seemed made just for him.

"Go on, man," said Eliezer, giving him a friendly push as they finally left the locker room. "Your Brazilian is waiting. And from what Chris told me, your parents are practically ready to adopt her."

"What?" Jobe frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Let’s just say that while you were busy here, your brother was introducing her to everyone as your girlfriend," Chris explained with a mischievous smile. "Apparently, your dad’s already in love with her accent."

Jobe felt a wave of panic. Introducing Sarah as his girlfriend? They hadn’t even kissed yet! What was Jude thinking?

"Relax," Eliezer said, patting his shoulder when he noticed Jobe’s expression. "From what I heard, people just insisted on meeting her after seeing you dedicate the goal."

"What the hell?" Jobe couldn’t hide his confusion.

"So, Mrs. Bellingham got curious to meet the woman who finally conquered her son’s shielded heart," Chris added, amusement all over his face.

"We’re not… it’s not like…" Jobe began, then stopped, not knowing how to define what he and Sarah were to each other.

"Just go," Chris said again, more softly this time. "We all saw the way you look at her. And how she looks at you. Stop fighting it."

With those words echoing in his mind, Jobe walked toward the area where he knew his family — and Sarah — were waiting. With each step, he felt his heart beat harder. It was ridiculous, he thought. He was a professional athlete who regularly performed in front of thousands of people, but the thought of seeing one woman had him panicking.

But it wasn’t just any woman. It was Sarah.

With her golden curls, her musical accent when she spoke English, the way she tilted her head when listening to him with full attention, as if every word he said mattered. Sarah, who somehow managed to see through the walls he had spent years building around himself.

When he finally spotted them in the VIP lounge, Jobe paused for a moment to watch them. His father had his arm draped over Jude’s shoulders, while his mother chatted animatedly with Sarah, who gestured as she spoke, her curls bouncing with the movement. Even from a distance, Jobe could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she tried a little harder to pronounce the words correctly — all signs that she was nervous but determined to make a good impression.

The thought that she was trying so hard for him made something tighten in his chest.

"There’s the star of the game!" his father exclaimed as he saw him approaching.

Everyone turned. Sarah’s smile, when her eyes met his, was a mixture of relief and happiness that made Jobe momentarily forget all his reservations. He greeted his father first, then his brother and mother, exchanging a few words with each of them.

And then, finally, his eyes found Sarah’s again. Jobe couldn’t quite tell what she was feeling, but Sarah focused on her own breathing as she felt her legs tremble slightly as he came closer.

"You came," he said simply, his voice low enough that only she could hear it.

"Surprise," Sarah replied, feeling her English falter once again.

"It really is a surprise. I thought you wouldn’t come!"

"I lied, forgive me," Sarah laughed, biting her lip with a smile.

"Why are you hiding the jersey?" he asked, noticing her zipped-up jacket.

Sarah squinted, making Jobe smile openly, his dimple showing. The gesture made her smile slowly, and feeling all of his family's eyes on her, Sarah opened her jacket, revealing the Sunderland jersey.

Jobe’s eyes immediately darted to a special spot. The dedication: With love, to England’s sunshine. JB 7

The smile that spread across Jobe’s face was unlike any she had ever seen before. There was pride, surprise, and something deeper she couldn’t name.

"It looks better on you than on me," he commented, running his fingers lightly over the fabric, a gesture that sent shivers down Sarah’s spine.

Jobe then turned his attention back to his family.

"Son, what an incredible game! And that moment! I never thought I’d see you do something like that."

"Yeah, little bro, you really surprised us today," Jude added with a mischievous grin. "I barely recognized my usually reserved brother making public declarations."

"It wasn’t a declaration," Jobe protested, flashing a nervous smile, as if trying to hide his embarrassment.

"It was beautiful," Sarah’s soft voice interrupted, her Brazilian accent more pronounced due to her nerves. "No one... has ever done something like that for me before."

Their eyes locked, and for a moment it felt like they were alone in the crowded lobby. Jobe could see every nuance of emotion on her face — the nervousness about being around his family, the insecurity about her English, the genuine happiness at seeing him, the anticipation of what would come next.

"Sarah was just telling us how you gave her that jersey at the first game she attended," his mother commented, bringing Jobe back to reality. "I thought it was such a sweet gesture."

"And she didn’t mention that she sleeps with the jersey every night?" Jude teased, earning a deadly glare from Sarah, whose hands grew sweaty at the revelation.

"I don’t... it’s not exac–" she began to protest, stumbling over her words.

"It’s okay," Jobe interrupted gently, stepping closer to her. "Jude’s just trying to embarrass you. It’s what he does best."

His brother feigned outrage, but his eyes betrayed his amusement. "I'm just helping you two move past this weird dance you’ve been doing for a while now."

"Son, we invited Sarah to have dinner with us tonight," his father interjected, saving them from more teasing. "Do you mind? We thought it would be nice to get to know her better."

The question caught Jobe off guard. A family dinner? With Sarah? It was a big step, especially considering they hadn’t even defined what they were to each other yet. But when he looked at her and saw the mix of hope and apprehension in her eyes, he realized the idea didn’t scare him as much as it should.

"Of course," he answered, surprising himself with how natural it sounded. "If Sarah’s comfortable with it."

"I’d love to," she replied, a shy smile playing on her lips.

"Great," his mother beamed. "We’re heading to the restaurant at your hotel. We already arranged for you to skip the team dinner, so we’ll go with Jude. You can go with Sarah and meet us there?"

Jobe nodded, recognizing his mother’s transparent maneuver to give them a moment alone. "We’ll see you there, then."

As his parents and Jude walked away, promising to meet them at the hotel, Jobe finally found himself alone with Sarah. The silence between them was charged with anticipation.

"You played so well," she finally said, her voice soft. "That goal was amazing."

"Thank you for coming, meu bem," he replied, taking a step closer to her. "I wasn’t sure you’d be here."

Sarah couldn’t hide her smile at hearing Jobe use the Portuguese nickname she had taught him with such delight.

"I just bet it would be cool," she explained. "I thought you’d like to see me cheering for you." She hesitated, biting her lower lip. "I’m sorry about your parents... I didn’t plan on meeting them like this, it all happened so fast and..."

"It’s okay," Jobe interrupted her softly. "They seem to like you."

"Your mom is very kind," Sarah smiled, relaxing a little. "But I’m nervous about my English with them... sometimes I can’t find the right words and..."

Seeing her anxiety build, Jobe did something he had been wanting to do since he first saw her in the box. He closed the final distance between them and pulled her into a hug. He felt her body stiffen in surprise for a second before she relaxed against him, her arms wrapping around his waist.

Leaning down slightly, Jobe buried his face in the curve of her neck, breathing her in deeply. Her scent — a mix of some floral perfume and something uniquely Sarah — wrapped around him like a warm blanket on a cold day. It was comforting and thrilling at the same time. "Your English is perfect," he murmured against her skin, feeling her shiver slightly. "And my parents already adore you. Just like..." he stopped, the words catching in his throat. He wasn’t ready to say it out loud yet.

Sarah pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, their faces inches apart. "Just like...?" she encouraged, a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

Jobe swallowed hard, feeling another barrier inside him crumble. "Just like I'm starting to adore you," he finished, his voice low, almost a whisper.

The smile that lit up her face was like a sunrise — gradual, warm, and utterly breathtaking. A different Sarah appeared before him, lighter and unburdened.

"It took you a while to admit that, English boy," she teased, her hand reaching up to gently touch his face, making his heart skip a beat.

"I'm afraid," he admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them. "Of how you make me feel. Of how you seem to see through all my defenses."

Sarah nodded, understanding. "I know. And I'm not in a hurry." Her fingers traced the line of his jaw.

He smiled, a genuine smile that he rarely showed anyone. "This shirt really looks much better on you," Jobe commented, unable to take his eyes off Sarah. "Way too beautiful!"

"You need to stop making me blush, British boy. You know I can still return it... if you want," Sarah replied, playfully.

"Don't take it off again," Jobe said, surprising himself. "It really suits you."

Sarah took a step forward, closing the distance between them. "You know, Jobe, for someone so skilled on the field, you're terribly hesitant off of it."

The comment caught him by surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you look at me like I'm both something you desperately want and something that terrifies you. Beyond what we feel." She tilted her head, studying him. "Am I wrong?"

Her honesty left him momentarily speechless. It was exactly how he felt, but he never expected her to notice it so clearly.

"I..." he started, but stopped, unsure of how to continue.

Sarah smiled, understanding. "It's okay. You don't have to explain. I just want you to know that I'm really not in a rush." She reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers again. "And I'm not as scary as I seem."

Her touch was warm, real, anchored in the present moment. Jobe felt another barrier tremble, like an old wall finally giving way to time.

"Shall we go? My parents are going to start imagining things if we take too long."

"Oh, sure. Do you have some locker room fetish you need to fulfill?" Sarah asked, playfully, but just looking at Jobe and analyzing his expression had both of them laughing. "Joooooobe."

"What? I can dream," he shrugged, unable to hide the mischievous smile on his lips.

"Come on, for God's sake," she agreed, laughing, but keeping her hand intertwined with his. "And after dinner... maybe we can talk more about that idea of pointing at me on the field."

Jobe felt the embarrassment take over him again, but he didn't let go of her hand as they walked toward the parking lot. There were still many barriers to break, many fears to face. But for the first time in a long time, the idea of letting his guard down didn’t seem so scary.

Not when it was Sarah waiting on the other side.

***

The night had been unforgettable. Sunderland's game ended in victory, with a spectacular goal that sent the fans into a frenzy. Dinner with Jobe’s family, which had initially made Sarah extremely nervous, turned out to be an enjoyable experience, though still challenging. Jobe, on the other hand, felt like the happiest person in the world seeing Sarah interact with his family, even though she tried to mask her anxiety. Her presence in such a personal and important setting for him meant more than anyone could imagine.

When dinner ended and everyone started saying their goodbyes, Sarah took a deep breath, gathering the courage to make the invitation she had been rehearsing in her mind since the middle of the meal.

"Do you need to go back to the hotel now?" Sarah asked quietly, as Jobe finished hugging his older brother. Her English still had a strong accent, but the months of daily phone conversations had significantly improved her vocabulary.

Jobe turned to her with a smile that lit up his face. "Actually, yeah. Why?"

Sarah averted her gaze for a moment, nervously biting her lip. "I was thinking maybe... you could keep me company for a while. It's still early."

"I'd love to," Jobe replied, without hesitating for even a second. "Which hotel are you at?"

"The same as yours."

The smile that appeared on Jobe's face at that information was enough to freeze time; Sarah didn't know it yet, but she was very close to breaking down Jobe's walls.

They said their goodbyes to his family, with Denise, Jobe’s mother, hugging Sarah a little tighter than necessary and whispering something in her ear that made Sarah smile shyly. Mark, his father, gave Sarah a friendly pat on the shoulder and a meaningful look at his son.

When they were finally alone, they walked side by side toward the elevators. In the lit hallway, Sarah slowed her pace and turned to face him.

"It’s strange... finally being here... with you," Sarah commented, breaking the silence. "After so many video calls, it almost feels surreal... to just reach out and..." She hesitated, but her fingers brushed the air between them, stopping just inches from his.

Jobe stopped walking, his gaze meeting hers. Here, without the safety of the digital distance, every gesture carried a different weight. The realization that they were only a few steps away from her room, with their rooms separated by only a few meters of hallway, hung between them like an unspoken question.

When they reached Sarah’s room door, the reality of the situation hit them. They were just one step away from being completely alone for the first time, without the hum of the hotel in the background, without anyone around, without the mediation of phone screens, without the option to end the call when the silence became uncomfortable.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Jobe couldn't resist. He stepped up behind Sarah and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in the curve of her neck. She felt a shiver run down her spine as he took a deep breath.

"Your scent is amazing," he murmured against her skin, slowly moving to breathe in the scent of her hair. "How do you always smell so good?"

Sarah couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh. "It's just regular shampoo. Nothing special."

"I completely disagree," he replied, still not letting go of her, as if he feared she might vanish if he did. "I think I’m going to stay like this forever."

Sarah felt her heart race at the proximity. Every cell in her body was acutely aware of his presence behind her, the warmth radiating from him, the rhythm of his breath against her hair. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to enjoy that feeling she had imagined so many times during their late-night conversations.

"Are you okay?" Jobe asked, pulling away slightly so she could turn and face him.

"Yeah," she replied, turning in his arms. "It's just... really strange, finally being like this. Without a screen between us."

Jobe smiled, and Sarah realized that his smile was even more beautiful in person than on the video calls. His eyes sparkled in a way no camera could capture.

"You were so nervous at dinner," he commented, gently guiding her to sit on his lap as he adjusted himself on the edge of the bed. "I thought you were going to pass out when my mom asked about your age."

Sarah covered her face with her hands, mortified. "Was it that obvious? I tried to hide it!"

"It was adorable," he assured her, sitting beside her. "At first, I thought it was my dad who was making you nervous."

"Well, I thought it was your dad... that made me nervous, until I met your mom," Sarah confessed, lowering her hands to look at him. "She has that look that... seems to see everything I’m thinking."

Jobe laughed. "And she loved you. Everyone did, actually. My brother has already sent me three messages asking when they'll meet you again."

Sarah felt a wave of relief wash over her. "Really? I was so worried about making... a good impression."

"You could have shown up wearing a dinosaur costume, and they would have still loved you," he joked, gently running his fingers along her arm. "It’s impossible not to like you."

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, they stayed like that, absorbing the closeness, immersed in the reality of finally being together, breathing the same air, sharing the same space.

"Hey," Jobe suddenly said, breaking the moment. "Are you still thinking about that theory I sent you last week? About the government using electromagnetic waves to control people’s sleep patterns?"

"Jooobe, seriously?" Sarah laughed, pushing him onto the bed, unable to believe how he had completely broken the potential mood. She laughed, shaking her head. "Of course. We spent three hours... searching for articles... in the middle of the night. How could I forget?"

"It was fascinating! You can't deny it," he insisted, propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes sparkling in that way she recognized whenever he found something to share with her.

And damn. He looked hot.

"Fascinating, yes, but completely crazy," she replied, trying to find the right words in English. The language barrier was still a challenge, especially when trying to express more complex ideas or subtle nuances. "How did you say it? That they use... what’s the word... frequencies? To make people wake up in the middle of the night?"

"Exactly!" Jobe got excited, leaning forward. "And you have to admit, it makes sense. Why else would so many people have insomnia at the same time?"

"Hmm, I don’t know," Sarah pretended to think. "Maybe because they spend the whole night talking to someone in another city?"

Jobe feigned indignation. "Are you blaming me for your insomnia, Miss Sarah?"

"Maybe," she replied with a teasing smile. "Or maybe it’s the government’s waves."

They laughed together, and the familiarity of that absurd conversation brought comfort. It was like they were back to their late-night phone calls, but infinitely better because now they could see every little detail of each other's expressions, without delay, without blurry pixels.

"Do you want to watch something?" Jobe asked, pointing to the TV in the room.

Sarah nodded. "Sure. You can choose while... I take a quick shower? I’m feeling a little... sticky after all the excitement of the day."

"Perfect," he replied, grabbing the remote as Sarah picked out some clothes from her suitcase.

When Sarah came out of the bathroom twenty minutes later, wearing cotton shorts and a loose t-shirt, she found Jobe leaning against the headboard of the bed, with a mischievous smile on his face.

"What’s wrong?" she asked, drying some parts of her hair with the towel.

"I'm finally going to make you watch Star Wars," he announced triumphantly, pointing at the screen where the famous logo and yellow letters were ready to start.

Sarah groaned dramatically. "I knew you were going to take this opportunity!"

"You said you’ve never watched it. It’s practically a crime!"

"Okay, okay," she conceded, moving closer to the bed. "But I can’t promise I’ll stay awake till the end."

Jobe patted the space beside him. "Come on, lie down here. I’ll let you meet the best pillow."

Sarah furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

He tapped his chest, and she laughed. The sound filled the room, making Jobe laugh and beckon her with his finger – Sarah’s heart felt like it missed a beat, but she slowly approached.

He opened his arms, inviting her. "Like this, curled up. It’s the best way to watch Star Wars for the first time."

With her heart racing, Sarah settled beside him, letting him pull her into his chest. The sensation of his body against hers felt both strange and perfectly natural.

The movie began, but after a few minutes, Sarah furrowed her brow. "Jobe, it’s too fast."

"Oh, sorry!" he quickly grabbed the remote and navigated through the menu options. "I’ll put the subtitles in Portuguese."

When the subtitles appeared, Sarah settled more comfortably against him, trying to focus on the movie and not the feeling of his arm around her shoulders, or the warmth radiating from his body, or the steady, comforting rhythm of his heartbeat against her ear.

As the movie went on, Sarah allowed herself to relax more and more in Jobe’s arms. The physical closeness, after so many months of emotional and virtual proximity, was both comforting and electrifying. Every small movement, every shift in position sent waves of acute awareness through her body.

At some point, Jobe began absent-mindedly playing with a strand of her hair, wrapping it around his finger. The soft, repetitive touch made Sarah close her eyes briefly, absorbing the sensation.

"Are you paying attention?" he whispered against the top of her head.

"Kind of," Sarah confessed. "It’s hard to concentrate."

"On the movie or something else?" His voice had a playful tone but also carried a hint of tension, as if he was testing the limits of what he could say.

Sarah shifted to look at him, their faces dangerously close. "On everything," she replied honestly. "On you being here with me, after so long imagining what it would be like."

Jobe’s eyes darkened, and he lowered his gaze to her lips. Sarah felt the air between them grow thick, charged with possibilities and repressed desire. They were so close that she could feel his breath on her face, each exhale sending shivers down her spine.

Jobe subtly leaned in, closing the distance between them, his lips almost touching hers now. Sarah could swear she could taste him even before the contact.

At the last second, she turned her face, and his lips brushed lightly against her cheek. Sarah closed her eyes, her heart hammering against her ribs, her breath coming in small, trembling gasps.

Jobe felt a pang of uncertainty when Sarah turned away from the kiss, but the brief contact with the soft skin of her cheek was enough to send an electric shock through his body. He pulled back slightly, giving her space, but still keeping her in his arms.

‘Maybe she’s not ready,’ he thought, trying to calm his racing heart. ‘Or maybe I misread everything.’

But there was no denying the tension between them, the electricity that seemed to crackle in the air every time they touched. The long hours of deep conversations, of shared vulnerability through screens, had created an intimacy that now manifested physically, as if their bodies were magnets with opposite polarities, constantly pulled toward each other.

Sarah, for her part, felt her chest rise and fall quickly, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions overwhelming her. She wanted the kiss – God, how she wanted it – but fear paralyzed her at the last moment. Not fear of Jobe, but fear of what would come after, the intensity of what she felt for him, the implications of letting herself go completely for something that had started in such an unlikely way.

'What if I ruin everything?' she thought, as she pretended to focus on the movie. 'What if, after everything, it’s not like we imagined?'

But the feeling of his arms around her, the warmth of his body pressed against hers, the scent of his cologne mixed with something that was essentially Jobe – all these things seemed to pull her toward him, as if the gravity between them had increased exponentially.

On the screen, a space battle was unfolding, but neither of them was really watching. They were hyperconsciously aware of each other, of every little movement, every breath, every heartbeat.

"Sorry," Jobe murmured after several minutes of tense silence. "I shouldn’t have..."

"No," Sarah interrupted, turning to face him again. "Don’t apologize. It’s not that."

Their gazes met, and Sarah saw in those eyes all the vulnerability and desire that she herself felt. A heavy silence fell between them, loaded with unspoken words and unfulfilled wishes.

"What is it, then?" he asked, his voice little more than a rough whisper.

Sarah tried to find the words in English, but gave up. Some things were hard to express even in her native language. Instead, she slowly brought her hand to his face, her fingers softly tracing the line of his jaw. The touch was light as a feather, but filled with intention.

Jobe remained completely still, as if any movement could break the spell of the moment. His eyes never left hers, searching, questioning, waiting.

Sarah felt her whole body hum with anticipation as she leaned toward him again. This time, there was no hesitation in her movements. She closed her eyes and, finally, pressed her lips against his.

The first contact was gentle, almost reverent. A simple brushing of lips that lasted only a second, but felt like it contained entire universes. When she pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, she saw a whirlwind of emotions reflected there – surprise, joy, desire, relief.

Jobe let out a low sound, almost a contained moan, before sliding his hand to the back of her neck and pulling her back into another kiss. This one, unlike the first, had nothing of hesitation or gentleness. It was years of repressed desire, months of anticipation, weeks of anxiety – all culminating in this moment, this contact.

His lips moved against hers with controlled urgency, as if trying to hold back, but failing. Sarah felt her body respond, instinctively leaning closer to him, her fingers now tangling in the short hair on his head.

The kiss deepened naturally, their tongues meeting for the first time, exploring, tasting, discovering. Sarah couldn’t help but let out a sigh of pleasure when she felt his tongue slide against hers, sending waves of heat through her body. It was as if every nerve ending had awakened simultaneously.

Jobe’s hands, which had until then remained in safe places – one on her neck, the other on her waist – began to explore timidly. He slid his fingers under the hem of her t-shirt, touching the warm skin of her back, and Sarah arched involuntarily at the contact.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured against her lips, between kisses. "So, so beautiful."

Sarah felt a wave of confidence wash over her with his words. She shifted, adjusting her position to sit on his lap, one leg on either side of his hips. Jobe inhaled sharply at the new proximity, his hands instinctively finding her thighs, squeezing gently.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his breath quickening, his lips swollen from the kisses.

"More than okay," she replied, looking at him as if she were the most precious thing he had ever seen. "This is... perfect."

They kissed again, more deeply this time, their hands exploring with more boldness. Sarah felt his hands slide down her thighs, slowly rising, stopping respectfully at the hem of her shorts, as if asking for permission.

In response, she broke the kiss just long enough to pull her own t-shirt over her head, revealing herself to him. Jobe froze for a moment, his eyes scanning every exposed inch, with an expression of pure fascination, particularly on her breasts.

"Are you real?" he whispered, almost to himself, before bringing his hands to her bare waist, his thumbs tracing soft circles on her sensitive skin, gradually moving up toward her breasts.

Sarah smiled, feeling powerful with the effect she clearly had on him. “Very real,” she replied, helping him remove his shirt as well.

The skin-to-skin contact as she leaned in to kiss him again drew moans from both of them. It was an indescribable sensation, finally feeling the warmth of his body directly against hers, with no barriers. His hands explored her back, down to the curve of her waist, up again to finally touch her breasts.

“Perfect,” he murmured, as his thumb slid over her nipple, making her arch her back in response. “Made for me.”

He met her gaze, and Sarah felt herself melt at the intensity she found there. There was something deeply intimate about the way he never took his eyes off hers as his hands explored her body, as if he wanted to memorize every reaction, every sigh he provoked in her.

The remaining clothes were removed one by one, with pauses for kisses and caresses on each new piece of skin revealed. When her hand found the obvious bulge in his pants, Jobe let out a guttural moan, low and restrained, that made her whole body tingle with desire.

When they were finally completely naked, Jobe carefully reversed their positions, laying Sarah on the pillows and hovering over her for a moment, just looking at her with reverence. He stood over her in the missionary position, allowing their gazes to remain connected.

“I've dreamt about it,” he confessed, his voice husky with desire. “So many nights... you have no idea.” Sarah reached out to touch his face. “Me too,” she replied, feeling the heat rise through her body with the intensity of the moment. “Shit. Every day.”

He lowered his head to kiss her again, more gently this time, while his hands explored her body adoringly. Every touch seemed calculated to discover what made her sigh, what made her arch her back, what made her moan his name.

“May I?” he asked in a whisper, sliding his hand between her legs, his eyes never leaving hers.

Sarah nodded, unable to form coherent words as he began to touch her intimately, slowly discovering how to pleasure her. He carefully watched every expression on her face, adjusting his movements according to her responses.

“You're so beautiful like this,” he murmured, watching her squirm under his touch. “I want to see you fall apart for me, I want to hear my name on your lips.”

She couldn't resist for long under his dedication. When the pleasure hit her, Sarah dug her nails into his back, leaving marks that he would carry with pride for days to come. His name escaped her lips like a repeated prayer.

Jobe smiled, pleased with himself, before moving down, tracing a path of kisses down her body. “I want to taste you,” he said, looking down at her from between his legs. “May I?”

Before she could answer fully, he was already tasting her, his tongue exploring every inch with dedication and reverence. Sarah buried her fingers in his hair, arching up against his mouth, unable to contain the sounds of pleasure escaping her lips. Jobe seemed lost in her, as if he could spend hours there, completely devoted to pleasuring her.

When he finally pulled out, Sarah's body was already trembling with anticipation. He reached for the protection on his pants, quickly preparing himself before turning back to her, positioning himself between her legs.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his tone gentle despite the obvious need in his gaze.

“I am,” Sarah nodded, pulling him down for a deep kiss.

Their gazes met as he slowly joined her, moving with extreme caution at first, on the lookout for any sign of discomfort. “Tell me if I need to slow down,” he whispered against her lips.

But Sarah only wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, an action that drew a deep moan from Jobe's throat. He set a deliberately slow pace at first, savoring every sensation, every movement, every moan that escaped her lips.

“You're so perfect,” he whispered in her ear, between restrained moans. “So perfect for me... as if you were made for me...”

The intimacy of the moment went far beyond the physical. It was the culmination of months of emotional connection, of vulnerability shared through cell phone screens, now finally realized in the meeting of their bodies. Their eye contact remained almost uninterrupted, intensifying every sensation, every emotion.

“You're doing so well for me,” he murmured, words of praise that made her body respond in ways she had never experienced before. “My sweet girl... so perfect...”

As the need grew, the pace gradually increased. Her hands gripped his back, her nails leaving soft marks on his skin, while he alternated between burying his face in her neck and looking directly into her eyes, all the while murmuring words of adoration.

“Please tell me this is good for you,” he begged, his voice almost pleading. “Tell me I'm making you feel good...”

“It's amazing,” she managed to reply between moans. “You're amazing, Jobe... don't stop...”

Those words seemed to ignite something inside him. His movements became more intense, more determined, but without losing that connection, that undivided attention to her pleasure. His hands explored every inch of her body they could reach, as if trying to memorize every curve, every texture.

When he felt she was close to the edge again, he slid a hand between their bodies, touching her in a way that intensified her pleasure. “I want you to get there again,” he whispered. “I want to feel you come apart around me... give it for me, baby.”

The climax hit them almost simultaneously - her first, with a muffled cry against his shoulder, and then him, with a guttural moan and her name repeated like a sacred mantra. Jobe stayed connected to her for long moments afterwards, their bodies still trembling with the waves of pleasure, their jagged breaths mingling in the small space between their faces.

When they finally separated, Jobe didn't pull away completely. He lay down next to her and immediately pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair, inhaling her scent deeply.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on her back. “Wasn't I too... intense?”

Sarah smiled against his chest, feeling completely satiated and protected. “It was perfect,” she murmured, still trying to normalize her breathing. “Better than I could have imagined.”

He kissed the top of her head, his fingers now sliding down her body, touching every little mark, every freckle, every little scar with reverence. “You were amazing to me,” he whispered. “So incredible... my sweet girl...”

They stayed like that for a few minutes, just absorbing each other's presence, until Jobe gently pulled away. “I'll get you a towel,” he said, kissing her softly before getting up.

When he returned from the bathroom, he cleaned her up with care and affection before returning to the bed and pulling her back into his arms. Sarah nestled against him, fitting perfectly into his embrace.

“I think we missed an important part of the movie,” he joked, indicating with his head the television where the Star Wars credits were silently rolling.

Sarah laughed, tracing lazy circles on his chest with her fingertips. “We can watch it again tomorrow.”

Jobe's smile faltered slightly. “Tomorrow... I have to go back to Sunderland tomorrow,” he reminded, a tone of sadness evident in his voice. “And you to Manchester.”

Sarah felt a tightness in her chest as she remembered this fact. After so much closeness, after finally overcoming that barrier, the idea of separating seemed almost painful.

"What time do you need to leave?" she asked, her voice small.

"We're leaving in the afternoon," he replied, pulling her closer as if trying to merge their bodies. "I should head back to my room before the night check. Actually... I should already be there now."

Sarah lifted her face to look at him. "Are you going to get in trouble?"

He smiled, gently touching her face. "It would be worth any trouble," he answered sincerely, then sighed. "But probably not. I'll say I was with my family."

She nodded, leaning back against him again. "I don't want you to go," she confessed softly.

"I don't want to go either," he admitted, intertwining his fingers with hers. "I spent so much time imagining what it would be like to be with you like this... and now it feels impossible to pull away."

"Then stay!"

***

As the rising sun began to cast its first rays through the gap in the curtain, Jobe slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the tangle of golden curls spread across the pillow next to him. Sarah was fast asleep, breathing softly, her face serene, and her lips slightly parted.

Jobe allowed himself to watch her for a moment. Her curls glistened in the touch of the morning light, creating the impression of a solar halo around her face. ‘She really does look like the sun,’ he thought, recalling the countless times he'd mentally compared her hair to golden rays.

He stretched his arm to grab his phone and noticed there were already several messages. Three were from Jude.

[07:15] Jude: Still alive, or did she kill you from exhaustion?

[07:45] Jude: You need to get back to your room before anyone notices you didn’t sleep there, remember? Your coach is going to kill you.

[08:10] Jude: Jobe, answer me. I just want to know if I need to come up with an excuse if I run into your coach downstairs.

Jobe smiled, typical of his older brother – always worried, always looking out for him, even when he pretended to just be being practical. He quickly typed:

[08:35] Jobe: I’m alive. More alive than ever, actually. I’ll make it in time, don’t worry.

[08:35] Jude: So, she’s really special then. Never seen you lose track of time because of someone.

[08:36] Jobe: She’s... different. I’ll tell you later.

Jobe set the phone aside and turned his attention back to Sarah. His fingers gently traced the contour of her shoulder, feeling the soft skin. He had never been someone for deep connections or opening up easily. But with Sarah, from the very first moment, something had been different. Like there was an invisible thread pulling him toward her, something he couldn’t – and didn’t want to – resist.

Sarah shifted under his touch, her eyes slowly opening, adjusting to the light. When she recognized him, a sleepy smile appeared on her lips.

"Good morning," she murmured, her voice hoarse from sleep.

"Good morning, sunshine," Jobe replied, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

Sarah stretched like a lazy cat, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Were you watching me sleep?" she asked, with a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

"Guilty," he admitted. "Your curls look like gold when the light hits them. Like sunrays."

Jobe knew how to make Sarah blush, and she hid her face against his chest. He noticed how different she was in the morning — softer, more vulnerable, almost shy. A completely opposite version of the confident woman from the night before. That duality fascinated him.

"What time do you need to leave?" Sarah asked, her voice muffled against his skin.

The question brought a weight to the atmosphere. Jobe felt her body tense slightly, as if she were bracing herself for the goodbye, for the inevitable moment when their bubble would burst.

"We still have a few hours," he replied, running his fingers through her curls. "I ordered breakfast in the room. I don't want to leave here yet."

Sarah lifted her gaze to him, her eyes revealing a mix of relief and uncertainty. Jobe could see the thoughts racing behind her eyes. Was she wondering if she was just another one for him? If what they shared meant something more than just the night before?

"What is it?" he asked softly, touching her chin.

Sarah bit her lower lip, hesitant. "Nothing, just..." she began, but stopped.

"Tell me," Jobe gently insisted. "What's going through that head?"

Sarah took a deep breath. "It's just that... this was really intense for me. And I don't know what it means for you. If it was just... you know, a one-night thing."

There was a fragility in her voice that made Jobe’s heart tighten. He had never been good with words, always preferring actions. But in that moment, he knew he needed to find the right words.

"Sarah," he said, holding her face in his hands. "I'm not good at this. I'm not good at opening up or getting to know new people. But from the moment I saw you, I knew it would be different with you. This isn’t just a one-night thing for me."

Her eyes sparkled with a mix of surprise and hope. "Really?”

In response, Jobe pulled her closer, capturing her lips in a slow, deep kiss. He felt her body melt against his, the vulnerability of the morning giving way to something hotter, more intense.

Her hands began to explore his body, and he felt desire growing again, as if all the hours spent the night before hadn’t satisfied anything, only increased the hunger they felt for each other.

"I want you," he whispered against her lips. "Again. Now."

Sarah responded with a soft moan, her legs wrapping around his waist as Jobe pulled her up onto him. The sunlight now bathed the entire room, illuminating their intertwined bodies.

There was something different about this moment — an urgency mixed with tenderness, as if every touch was both a goodbye and a promise. Sarah arched against him, her golden curls falling like a curtain around their faces, creating a world just for them.

Jobe gently turned her, placing her beneath him, his eyes never leaving hers. There was a raw intensity in his gaze as he moved, each motion deliberate, each response from her body engraving itself into his memory.

"Jobe," she gasped, her nails leaving light marks on his back.

He savored her name on her lips, the way it sounded like a prayer, a confession. He had never felt anything so right, so complete. When pleasure enveloped them, it wasn’t just physical, but something that seemed to overflow, filling every empty space Jobe never knew existed inside him.

Then, as they caught their breath, intertwined under the disheveled sheets, Jobe traced invisible patterns on her skin. "I want to show you something," he said, suddenly.

Sarah watched him with curiosity as he stood up and went to the bathroom. She heard the sound of running water, and soon Jobe reappeared, extending his hand to her.

"Shower?" he invited with a smile.

Sarah took his hand, letting him guide her to the bathroom where the steam was already beginning to fill the room. Jobe noticed how she seemed small next to him, her delicacy contrasting with his athletic frame.

Without warning, he lifted her in his arms, provoking a small gasp of surprise followed by her laughter.

"What are you doing?" Sarah asked, her arms automatically wrapping around his neck.

"I’ve been dying to do this with you," he replied, carrying her into the shower.

The hot water fell over them, and Sarah closed her eyes, savoring the sensation. Jobe watched, fascinated, as her golden curls darkened with the water, sticking to the skin of her shoulders and back.

He grabbed the soap and began to glide it over her shoulders, turning the shower into a ritual of care and intimacy. Sarah sighed under his touch, her eyes opening to meet his.

"I never imagined you’d be like this," she confessed.

"Like what?"

"So... present. So attentive." Her hands slid up his wet chest. "Football players are usually known for being... distant, only concerned with themselves."

Jobe felt a tightening in his chest. Was she comparing him to others? Had she been just one among many for him in the past?

"I'm not like the others," was all he could say, his voice lower than he'd intended.

Sarah seemed to notice the change in his mood and moved closer, the water running between their bodies. "I know," she whispered. "That's why... that's why I'm scared."

"Scared of what?"

"That it will end the moment you walk out that door. That it will just be a beautiful, fleeting memory."

The vulnerability in her voice hit Jobe hard. He had never cared before about what was left behind. But now, the thought of Sarah thinking she was just another one made his stomach churn.

"Look at me," he asked, gently lifting her chin. "I live in Sunderland, and you live in Manchester. It's not the end of the world. It’s just a few hours away, not another planet."

A small smile appeared on her lips. "Are you suggesting that...?"

A knock on the door interrupted the moment. Breakfast had arrived.

They dried off and dressed quickly, Jobe wrapping Sarah in one of the hotel’s fluffy robes, which seemed to swallow her whole. The sight of her like that, with wet hair and a makeup-free face, swimming in her oversized robe, made something inside him melt.

"You look adorable," he said, kissing the tip of her nose as he opened the door for room service.

They had breakfast in bed, feeding each other pieces of fruit and stealing kisses between sips of coffee. The atmosphere was lazy and intimate, as if they were isolated from the rest of the world.

It was the shrill ring of Jobe’s phone that finally broke the bubble. Chris’s name flashed on the screen.

"I have to take this," he said, throwing an apologetic look at Sarah before answering the call. "Hey, Chris."

"Where the hell are you, man? The bus leaves in an hour, and the coach is already asking about you. He said you were in the room talking to your family, but he doesn’t seem convinced."

Jobe felt the weight of reality return. "I’m coming down. I’ll be there in ten minutes."

"You better be," Chris replied. "She must really be special if you're risking the coach’s wrath like this."

Jobe looked at Sarah, who was silently watching the conversation, a piece of toast forgotten in her hand. "She is," he simply replied before hanging up.

The silence that followed seemed loaded with all the unspoken words between them. Jobe stood up and started gathering his scattered belongings.

"I have to go," he said the obvious, hating the finality in his voice.

Sarah nodded, putting the plate aside and hugging her knees to her chest. "I know."

Jobe stopped what he was doing and sat beside her on the bed. "Hey," he softly called. "This isn’t goodbye." Sarah tried to smile, but didn’t reach her eyes. "People always say that."

"I’m not 'people,'" Jobe retorted, holding her face in his hands. "Look, I don’t know exactly what’s happening between us, but I know I don’t want it to end here. It’s not just distance that will keep me away from you."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, Sarah couldn’t hide her disbelief. "Do you really want..."

"I want much more than that," he admitted, surprised by his own honesty. "I want to know you. For real. All the details, all the stories. I want to know what makes you laugh and what keeps you awake at night."

A genuine smile finally lit up Sarah’s face. "I want that too."

Jobe finished getting dressed, aware of her gaze following every move he made. When he was ready, he sat next to her again, taking her hands in his.

"I need to go now," he said. "But before..."

He pulled out his phone and opened the camera. "I haven’t forgotten the picture," he joked, trying to ease the tension in the moment.

Sarah laughed and took a few portraits. During one of their long calls, he had promised he would keep a picture of Sarah to remind her how much better she would look after meeting him. A boost of confidence, but not a lie.

When he handed the phone back, Jobe immediately went to check the photos. Smiling, in a different way. But he didn’t see when Sarah took the opportunity to capture the exact moment.

"Two can play this game," she said, a smile on her lips.

"Now you have mine too," Jobe couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

Sarah had an interesting effect on him.

She nodded, biting her lower lip to hold back the emotion. Jobe leaned in and kissed her, a slow and deep kiss that carried all the feelings he still didn’t know how to express in words. He savored the taste of her, memorizing the sensation, the aroma, the texture of her soft lips against his.

When he pulled away, he saw her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Are you going to run away from me, Sarah Lima?" he asked, his voice hoarse with emotion.

She shook her head. "No. And you?"

Jobe smiled, a genuine smile that lit up his eyes. "You’re going to need a lot more than living in another city to get rid of me."

With one last kiss, he stood up and grabbed his hoodie. At the door, he turned to look at her one last time, wrapped in the oversized robe, her golden curls beginning to dry in rebellious spirals, her eyes fixed on him.

"See you soon," he promised. It wasn’t goodbye. It was just the beginning.

As he descended in the elevator, Jobe sent a message to Jude:

[09:47] Jobe: I think I just met someone who could change everything.

[09:48] Jude: Finally, my little brother is growing up. I can’t wait to hear this story.

Jobe smiled at his phone, slipping it into his pocket. For the first time in a long time, he was looking forward to the future and the possibilities it brought. Sarah wasn’t just another one. She was the beginning of something new, something he was willing to explore, no matter the distance between them.

dividers by @cafekitsune

pictures from pinterest and ig

If you want to join the tag, let me know. Until next time 💋

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