Can You Repeat That, You’re Name is Schneiger, Shwien—What?

*Ivonne POV: Tuesday July 28, 2009 at 6:52 A.M. Munich’s News Building*

I walked into work to find in a frenzy. My boss, Michael, was in an uproar about something, throwing papers all over the place and freaking out. Going to my desk I looked over at Hilda whose desk was next to mine.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Some fuss about no sports reporter to do some big interview,” Hilda answered throwing popcorn in her open mouth. “You know how much drama Michael likes to make.”
I smiled and logged into my computer, pulling up an article on the best sights of Munich I was working on.
“Are you ever going to tell me about your big weekend?” Hilda asked. She had been pestering me for information all day yesterday but I had refused to tell. After my disastrous meeting with my man who turned out to be a famous footballer named Bastian Schweinger, no Sweingsteiger, that wasn’t it either. Well, whatever his last name was, my sister had driven me home when I been adamant about not needing to see a doctor. I can only plead insanity and having hit the ground too fast for all I had said and done to Bastian. I was also relieved that none of this ended up in the media, I didn’t want to be remembered as the woman that fell on the pitch during the Bayern Munich practice. The rest of the weekend had been spent talking and walking around the city before I had driven Emmaline back home. Despite not getting an autograph she had said it had been a great weekend.
Before I could say anything, heels clicked on the floor and in walked Katrina Klein. She was elegantly dressed as always with a tight blue dress and matching heels. Her dangling earrings alone were worth more than my entire wardrobe. She was the resident fashion writer and snob. Every man in the building was in love with her and for some reason she had always hated me. The feeling was mutual I’m afraid.
“Ivonne dear, you look lovely today,” Katrina stopped in front of my desk and put one of her ugly manicured hands on my computer. “I think I said the same thing when you wore that exact outfit last week.”
I clenched my teeth to keep from yelling at her. I had not worn this outfit in three weeks! The cow, I thought evilly. There was just something about her that brought out all the meanness in me.
“Is there something I can help you with?” I said as politely as possible.
“Did you email me that fashion piece you did last week while I was in Spain with my boyfriend?” she said rubbing in the fact that she had a man and money to go out of the country at me.
“Yes.”
“I guess I’ll have to go do damage control,” she sighed like it was the end of the world. “We all know your fashion judgment is impaired.”
I wanted to hit her so badly my palms itched and the stapler on my desk was looking very tempting for the job. Just because I had no money for clothes didn’t mean I didn’t know about brands and fashion!
“Have fun with that,” I managed to say calmly. I knew that she wanted a reaction out of me and the only way to foil her was to plaster on a blank façade. “Let me know if you need any help.” With one last smirk Katrina went to her desk on the other end of the room. “God I hate her!”
“Who doesn’t?” Hilda replied.
“Men.”
“Oh they do, they just want to tap that ass so they put up with her.” Hilda rummaged through her drawers when she finished her popcorn and came out with a package of doughnuts. Sniffing it to make sure it was edible she then took a bite. It was amazing that she was so skinny with the amount of food she ate a day.
“Ivonne! Ivonne where are you?!” Michael cried mournfully.
“Here.” I stood and walked over to my red faced boss.
“I need you to cover the interview for me.”
I gasped in shock, “But you know I don’t know a thing about sports!”
“We need this interview do you understand?” he said, his voice was rising in hysteria.
“Yes sir, but—.”
“There is no buts, you are doing this. It’s a miracle I even managed to schedule this so I won’t have anything screw this up. The magazine and the world needs this!” I bite my tongue to keep from objecting. “Here.” He handed me a file and a tiny piece of paper. “Its some of the research Jackson did before abandoning us and that’s the address. The interview is at eight sharp and is going to be right after he’s done with a phoot shoot so make it fast but good. He’s famous and has other things to do. Now go!”
I rushed out of his office and didn’t even have a chance to talk to Hilda. I knew this was going to be a bad. Sports and I don’t mix, ever. But when I flipped open and saw the name staring back at me I felt my heartbeat begin to speed up.
This was not good at all.

*Bastian POV: Tuesday July 28, 2009 at 7:57 A.M. Lounge Area of the Photo Shoot*

Lukas and I had just wrapped up an ad for Levi jeans and were sitting in one of the sofas in the lounge area. Since everyone knew we were close friends we often did campaigns together, it was fun because we goofed around most of the time and got to get out of practice. I had another one scheduled today in the afternoon for some kids snack. It was an easy and fun way to get money but I still preferred to play football. Now I was just waiting to get an interview done for a small newspaper of the city.
“So you’re telling me that you are going to let her come to you this time?” Lukas said.
“That’s the plan,” I said letting my hands rest on my bare stomach. The ad had wanted us shirtless and Lukas and I still hadn’t put our shirts back on because of the heat. Already it was proving to be a very humid day.
“What happens if she’s too shy?”
“I gently push her in the right direction,” I grinned.
“You have no shame,” Lukas laughed.
“When is this journalist coming?” I looked at the clock and saw they were five minutes late. A choked noise came from the door and I looked over to see Ivonne.
“I think she’s here,” Lukas’s blue eyes laughed. “As much as I would like to stay and see this unfold I think I’ll go.”

*Ivonne POV: Tuesday July 28, 2009 at 8:06 A.M. Lounge Area of the Photo Shoot*

Walking into the building had been the hardest thing I’ve done in my life. I had to mentally prepare myself, saying that it was going to be okay. I would go in, do the interview, and get out. Too bad my plan was shot straight to hell the moment I walked into the room and saw a very shirtless Bastian.
He got to his feet as his friend left the room with a grin. I was a weak woman and let my eyes take in the glorious sight of Bastian half naked. Wow, God is kind was what came to mind. Bastian’s upper body was rippling with muscles that were in every girls fantasy. He was as different from the guys I had dated as night and day. Usually, I was attracted to men that had darker skin and six packs. Bastian wasn’t dark, his skin was pale but in an ivory sort of way that made me want to place my tanner hand against his stomache to see the differences in color. He also didn’t have a pronounced six pack. Instead he had washboard abs that made my mouth go dry. His jeans rode low on his lips and fit nicely so they outlined his powerful thighs—that I had touched! I felt a rush of heat on my face at the thought. Please don’t die of mortification, I chanted over and over.
I opened my mouth and closed it a few times but nothing came out but an embarrassing squeak. It was mortifying! That was the third time I had made a strange noise around him. Bastian just had the effect of making me unable to form words.
“Sorry I’m late,” I finally said. I said a quick prayer thanking god for the power of speech.
“I was getting worried,” Bastian flashed me a white, even smile. He should be hired on a toothpaste commercial. Wish it had been today so I wasn’t face to face with Bastian’s pecs and biceps and who knows how many other ‘eps’.
“Well, I’m sure you are busy I should get started.”
“Please, sit.”

*Bastian POV: Tuesday July 28, 2009 at 8:13 A.M. Lounge Area of the Photo Shoot*

Fate had given me another helping hand and sent Ivonne straight to me. She walked with poise and pride towards me. I could tell she was nervous and so was I, it was the first time we would be having a coherent conversation.
“Are you feeling better?” I asked talking about her fall a few days ago when she was comfortably seated.
“Yes, thank you,” she replied fast. “I should get to the interview now. Mr. Schweinsger—.”
“Schweinsteiger.” I corrected surprised to find that her tendency to mispronounce my name was adorable and not annoying.
“Schwein…” she looked at me in total lost.
“You can just call me Bastian.” I leaned back and saw her eyes move once again over my chest.
“Bastian…are you going to put a shirt on?”
“Do you want me to?” I asked just to see her squirm. I chuckled at the optimistic look she gave me and pulled my white shirt on. “Better.”
“I think,” she said shaking her head as if to get her mind back on task. “Are you worried about the coming Champions League?”
“Are you German?” I asked a question of my own.
“Pardon?”
“You don’t look very German,” I said.
“My mother is half Spanish and I got all her genes now—.”
“Why did you keep running from me?”
“I wasn’t running!”
“That’s a lie and you know it.”
“Can we go back to the interview, please?”
“Only if you answer me this,” I fixed her with a deep look. “Do you even know what the Champions League is?” Ivonne blushed and looked down at her notebook. “Thought not.”
“Look they would have sent someone else but he’s out and I was the only one there so can you please just answer my questions?” Ivonne gave me a hopeful look that would have had me taking pity on her if I wasn’t calculating my options.
“I’ll give you everything you want if…” I held up my finger when she was about to thank me. “…you go on a date with me.”
“You’re blackmailing me?” Her pen dropped from her hands in astonishment.
I smirked in reply.

*Ivonne POV: Wednesday July 29, 2009 at 1:43 P.M. Kunstareal Art Museum*

I’d been manipulated and quite cleverly by the footballer beside me but I’d had to agree or I never would have gotten the interview. That’s what I told myself but I wasn’t so sure that I hated being manipulated by Bastian. I only found it fair to choose where we would go for our date and picked somewhere casual in which I didn’t need to dress up for and expose to him how poor I was.
Art had always interested me and so I decided on the Kunstareal. I had never been in it but I thought since I was going on a date and spend my preciously low amount of money I might as well do it on something that I wanted to see. We had arrived there separately at my suggestion. Once at the paying counter, Bastian was a gentlemen and breaking no argument said he would pay. I felt guilty but thanked him. We were in the part of the giant museum called Alte Pinakothel where painting by Rafael and Leonardo Da Vinci were displayed. Bastian wasn’t observing the masterpieces though.
“I am not as interesting or beautiful as the paintings,” I told him as I studied the marvelously drawn holding hands in the painting The Honeysuckle Bower by Peter Paul Rubens. There was so much emotion in just the way the hands were painted it was amazing.
“You are much more interesting,” He replied standing close to me. “And unquestionably more beautiful.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” I bite my lip to stop from smiling as I moved to the next painting with a man.
“Are you looking at his thighs?” Bastian teased.
“Of course not!” He was standing way too close; this man had no concept of personal space.
“I know how much you like them.” Bastian smirked at the red on my cheeks and I took a few steps back. He smelled too good like all my favorite things, spearmint and rain, in one. “Is it the first physical thing you look for in a guy?”
“No.” I couldn’t escape this man, he kept step with me. “If you must know it’s usually his eyes.”
“Usually?” he didn’t miss a thing. “So now it’s thighs?”
It was time to turn the table on him. I took a bold step forward which brought me to within an inch of his chest.
“What is the first physical thing you look for in a girl?”

*Bastian POV: Wednesday July 29, 2009 at 1:50 P.M. Kunstareal Art Museum*

“The ass,” I said without hesitation. “But with you it’s your eyes and height.”
“Height,” she narrowed her eyes like it was a sore spot. “You think I’m too tall then?”
“I love your height.” It was true. I was so use to dating short woman that her length was refreshing. I was about six feet and with her heels Ivonne could look me straight in the eye. I still had an inch on her standing here and without her heels she would come up to just bellow my mouth. It was nice not having to tilt my head down and have my neck aches from looking at petit women that barley reached my chest.
Ivonne raised her eyebrow at me and prompted me to ask, “What do you think your best feature is?”
“My back,” was all she said as she started walking to the next exhibit. I watched her stroll away and couldn’t help looking at her clothed back and wondering what it looked like uncovered.
Food for thought, I told myself.

*Ivonne POV: Wednesday July 29, 2009 at 3:29 P.M. Two Blocks From Her Apartment*

“Just drop me off here,” I said to Bastian. We had gotten out of the museum a few minutes ago and after finding out that I had walked there on foot had made me get into his absurdly expensive black Lamborghini. Having tip toed around the subject of me and my family and concentrating on talking about him during the date I didn’t really want him to see where I lived. I knew this wouldn’t be a repeated affair and I wasn’t about to show him the poor excuse of a house I lived in, I had my dignity to think of.
“This is your house?” Bastian asked from behind the wheel.
“Yes,” I lied, we were still in the nice part of town.
“You’re bad at it.”
“What?”
“Lying.” He expertly turned back onto the rode and with a vroom of pressing gas we headed closed to where I really lived.
“Boys and their toys,” I said rolling my eyes.
Bastian grinned while moving around a slow car, “You might as well just tell me where you live or we’ll be doing this all night.”
“Why are you so interested in knowing where I live?”
“Why are you so interested in not letting me know where you live?” He smiled innocently as he put one of his arms on the armrest.
“I asked first,” I said childishly.
“So I know where to pick you up for our next date tomorrow night.”
“Who said we’re having one?”
“You and I did.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re eyes said it all and since you got to pick this date it’s only fair that I pick our next one.” Stopping at a red light he looked over at me. “You’re turn.”
“Well, you’ll want to take a left on this road,” I sighed, knowing I couldn’t argue with him. I also really wanted to go out with Bastian again but not without him knowing the truth about me. He nodded and following the directions I gave him.

*Bastian POV: Wednesday July 29, 2009 at 3:36 P.M. In Front of Ivonne’s Apartment*

I didn’t really now what to make of Ivonne’s home. The building had graffiti all over it and half the windows were broken or had wood nailed over it. The outside smelled like garbage with quite a few unsavory characters about. I felt anger at her position in life rise to the surface.
“I don’t hold you to our date Bastian, today was lovely and thank you for that.” Ivonne had thought my anger was directed at her and was about to climb out of my car. I gently grabbed her arm and made her turn back to me.
“I don’t care about money,” I said firmly so she knew I was serious. “We are still on for tomorrow but this time we’re talking about you and no making it about me.” I had noticed that she was hesitant to say much about herself during our date and now realized why.
“Bastian.” Ivonne said my name is a way that had my heart racing. She lifted her hand and touched my cheek. I couldn’t help leaning against the silky texture of her palm. “I-I’ll see you then,” she said a little unsteadily, taking her hand back and getting out of the car.
“Till then,” I whispered to her retreating back.

*Ivonne POV: Thursday July 30, 2009 at 7:40 P.M. The Moon Restaurant*

When a package had been delivered to my work later that day with a beautiful red dress from Bastian for our date that night I had wanted to send it back. I was glad I didn’t and had indulged for once because the restaurant I had just entered was fancy. Sparkling chandlers, ivory dishes, golden walls, and smartly dressed servers where everywhere. I had no idea how I was going to pay to eat here, each meal must cost as much as I made in a month. Self conscious I ran my hands along the dress to get out imagery wrinkles and waited for Bastian to come stand beside me as we waited in line to be seated.
Looking over my shoulder I said, “Are you going to stand behind me all night?”
“Maybe,” he came up behind me and rested his cheek against mine. “I think you might be right and you’re back is your best asset.”
Yes, the dress is open back. I was going to elbow him in the gut but he was saved when the host asked, “How many?”
“Two,” Bastian answered moving next to me.
“Mr. Schweinsteiger!” the man sounded out of breath and excited. But he knew how to say Bastian’s last name unlike me. “Forgive us the wait if we had know you were here we would have seated you right away!”
“Instead he was hiding behind a giant me and staring at my back,” I said under my breath. Bastian heard me and had to cough to cover up his laugh. We followed the man to the best table in the house and then handed menus. I looked at it like it was Japanese, I had no idea what any of the items were. What the hell is coq au vin? I pondered. Something French but that was about all I could say.
“Having a hard time deciding?” Bastian looked at me over his menu.
“Yes, I have no idea what half of it means,” I said honestly. It was that or order cow brains by accident.
“The blanquette de veau is delicious,” he suggested.
When I saw the price my eyes widened, “I think I’ll have something else.”
“Ivonne,” Bastian waited for me to meet his eyes. “Don’t worry about the money, I’ll pay.”
“I don’t want—.” The server approached us and Bastian ignored me, ordering two blanquette de veau and some red wine.

*Bastian POV: Thursday July 30, 2009 at 10:00 P.M. Outside Ivonne’s Apartment*

The date had had been amazing. During dinner I had finally gotten Ivonne to open up about herself and had learned all about her poor family, her job, and her hopes for the future. I could tell that she had enjoyed herself too, liking the food and I suspect dressing up in that sexy gown that was driving me crazy with want. After, we had held hands and walked around town before it got cold and I drove her home. I walked her up to her door not trusting the people in this neighborhood.
“Thanks for everything,” Ivonne smiled when she had unlocked her door. “I’ll give you this dress back as soon as I clean it.”
“It’s yours,” knowing she was going to argue I held up my hand. “When would I ever need a dress?”
Ivonne chuckled softly. Mesmerized by the sparkle that had awakened in her green eyes I let my hand cup her cheeks.
Ivonne pulled back, “You should really go. Knowing the people here they might decided to do something to your car.”
I didn’t give a shit about the car. Drawing her to me by the neck I kissed her, not even having to bend to reach those flawless lips. She moaned into my mouth and I knew I wasn’t the only one that had been thinking about doing this all night. Her lips were soft and molded to mine perfectly. She didn’t protest as I slipped my tongue into her mouth. My hands in the meantime stroked her back, marveling at the feeling of her spine and smooth honey toned skin.

*Ivonne POV: Thursday July 30, 2009 at 10:07 P.M. Outside Ivonne’s Apartment*

I gripped Bastian’s bicep as he pushed me against the door. I was losing control of everything and my mind was screaming for more. I moaned as Bastian’s muscles flexed under my hand and I let my free one tangle in his hair. His hand on my back was drawing circles that were sending pleasure shooting to every part of my body. I meet Bastian’s roaming tongue with mine and rejoiced in hearing him growl into my mouth.
Passion sizzled in the hallway, my blood alive with need.
“You’re going…to kill…me,” Bastian said hoarsely letting his forehead drop on my shoulder. I reached up and cupped the back on his neck.
“Do you want to come in?” I said panting. Bastian’s head came up and his blue eyes held my green ones.
“Are you sure?”
I took his hand and open the door, “Yes.”

*Bastian POV: Thursday July 30, 2009 – Wednesday January 27, 2010*

The first few months of dating were pure bliss. Ivonne and I spent all our free time together. We did anything from going out to the movies to clubbing to staying in for a quite night. As long as we were together everything as fine. I introduced her to my teammates and she quickly bonded with them and the WAGs. They loved her as well and were happy for me. Ivonne even started becoming obsessed with football thanks to me. We watched a lot of games together but she traitorously loved Real Madrid over Bayern Munich. I didn’t mind as long as she liked me over all other footballers. She came to as many games as she could and when I had to play a Germany friendly game in France she came along and we had a mini vacation. The press of course found out about us but we ignored them. They kept saying, however, that Ivonne was only dating me for my money, I knew it was the farthest thing from the truth. I took her home to meet my family five months into the relationship but she refused to let me meet hers.
It was then that I realized not everything about our relationship was perfect. I started noticing that she hated when I bought things for her and would always quarrel about not needing something when we were out shopping and I caught her staring at a dress or pair of heels longingly and offered to buy them.
We spent Christmas and New Years apart. Ivonne didn’t want to have a whole get-together with both our family preferring just to have separate ones.
With the start of the new year things only got worse. When I found out that Ivonne’s sister had broken her arm and Ivonne would have to sacrifice a lot of money to pay the bills I offered to take care of it. Ivonne said it was fine and that she would take figure a way out. I grew angry and we had a fight about it. I wanted to help her family but she wouldn’t let me. We didn’t talk for a few days but things gradually cooled down. We weren’t the same though, seeing less of each other and talking infrequently.
I tried to mend things between us because I loved her but it only ended up backfiring on me.

*Ivonne POV: Thursday January 28, 2010 at 8:32 P.M. Inside My Apartment*

“No,” I said shaking my head even at the thought of it. We were sitting in my living room trying to think of something to do for the night when Bastian had asked his question. We hadn’t seen each other in over a week because Bastian had been in England for a game against Manchester United and I didn’t want to bicker but things looked like it was going to happen anyway.
“No?” Bastian repeated rubbing the back of his neck in frustration.
“No, I don’t want to move in with you,” I said decisively. I stood and moved to the kitchen, trying to find something to do with myself.
“Can you at least tell me why?” Bastian’s jaw twitched, a tell that he was not pleased about this.
“Because I want to stay here—.”
“Bullshit!” Bastian stood and advanced on me. “This place is a shithole and you know it!”
“This is not a shithole!” My anger was rising as well.
“Would it be so bad to live with me?” We were toe to toe and Bastian’s hands clenched in rage.
“It’s not that. I like my independence too much to move in with another person,” I tried to explain.
“Sometimes I just don’t understand you,” Bastian shook his head sadly. As if it pained him he said, “If you don’t move in with me it’s over.”
“What!?” I looked into his solemn blue eyes and knew he was serious. Irritably I accused, “You would break up with me over a little thing like moving in together?”
“No Ivonne, it’s bigger than that,” Bastian went to pace a few steps away from me. He gathered his thoughts while I was tempted to gather some forks and throw it at his stubborn ass. Bastian moved and took my hands in his larger ones. “You don’t want to let go of your independence because you’ve had it for so long. You’ve been providing for others that you don’t understand what it’s like to be in a partnership and lean on another person. You won’t let me buy you things or help with your family. You don’t trust me with important parts of your life, your troubles and fears. You hide them, wanting to do everything yourself.” He took my head in his palms. “That is not a real relationship or even a foundation for one. You need to trust me and you don’t. Moving in together is a step in that direction. Now I’ll ask you again, will you move in with me?”
I felt millions of emotion rush up inside me: fury, fear, denial…and regret for what I was going to do. With tears in my eyes I moved from the comfort and safety of his arms
“I am who I am Bastian, I can’t change.” I tilted my chin up resolutely. “I won’t move in with you.”
Expressionless, Bastian walked to the door and with one last look at me was gone.