Chapter 9

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The car pulled up outside Jude's apartment building. After a gruelling 74 minute drive through crowds of happy Madrid fans and extremely angry Barcelona fans, my legs were numb and I was very nearly falling asleep on Jude's shoulder.

There was a slight chill in the air when we got out of the taxi, I had almost forgotten it was October with Madrid's sunny days. But as the night drew in, the wind picked up and clouds blanketed the sky.

We walked through the doors and towards the lift. My heels were the only sound on the marble floor. Jude pressed the button on the the lift and we walked in.

"So what are we thinking for food?" I asked as we rose higher and higher into the building.

"Pizza I think," Jude replied staring straight at the steely doors.

"All you eat is pizza," Jobe laughed. "I'm surprised you didn't sign to AC Milan."

Jude rolled his eyes as an idea floated into my head. "Have you not eaten any Spanish food since you've been here? In 3 months?"

"I don't have time to go out to restaurants or whatever," he shrugged as the doors opened into the biggest apartment I had ever seen.

The windows wrapped around the room, with views of the entire city. I walked into the room and it just kept unravelling into more space like a ball of string. The living room bled into a gigantic open kitchen. The walls were all painted white and empty and were contrasted with the harsh black of the furniture. It felt like a show home.

Jude and Jobe walked past me. Jude wandered off into one of the rooms down the hall, Jobe settling himself on the sofa and switched on the television. I sighed and moved towards the kitchen. I threw my bag on the counter and looked around. I opened a few of the cupboards.

"What are you doing?" Jude walked back into the room in grey joggers and a white tee shirt. I felt my eyes wander up and down his body.

I turned away quickly so he wouldn't see me blush. "I am looking for ingredients."

"Ingredients?"

"Yep, you need something that doesn't arrive in 30 minutes or less," I grabbed a tin of chopped tomatoes. "I'm making gazpacho."

"Isn't that like cold soup?" Jobe piped up from the settee.

"Yes," I nodded as Jude scrunched up his face. "Please, Jude in your kitchen you have tomatoes, a pepper, half a cucumber and milk."

"I don't have time to food shop."

"Whatever, I'm making gazpacho," I searched the cupboards some more. "Do you have a blender?"

"Evelyn," Jobe shouted. "Jude had about as much to do with unpacking this apartment than he did with the 1966 World Cup."

I smiled and looked back at him. Jude shrugged and walked around the other side of the island and leant on it staring at me.

"I guess I'll use this hand blender thingie," I opened the can of tomatoes and poured them into a bowl. "Pass me that pepper."

Jude put it in front of me as I grabbed a knife and chopping board. "So, why did Jonnie boy go?"

I sighed. "He went to, erm, Luxembourg?" I searched my brain for what John told me the night before.

"Luxembourg," Jude nodded. "So he just left you alone?"

"We were going to stay for another night and go dancing, and sightseeing and eating food, but you know, he got a call," I shrugged as I poured the peppers into the bowl.

"He abandoned you?"

"No, because he told me he was leaving," I said. "Abandonment is when someone leaves for Germany and doesn't come back."

Jude opened his mouth and closed it again quickly and Jobe chuckled to himself. I grinned as I blended the ingredients together.

Electric Touch | Jude Bellingham Where stories live. Discover now