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From: MaR1989@hotmails.de

Sent: Thursday, June 5, 2014, 09:23AM

To: ELO135@yahooh.com

Subject: want some breakfast?

Didn’t want to wake you up so early, so I thought this was the easiest way to reach you.

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MARCO

            I send her an email. I don’t want to wake her up. I actually do want to wae her up and storm in her room and kiss her on the cheek and on her forehead and basically everywhere, but that might be considered weird. I’m not going to do that. It might scare her away and then she might be off to France before my big reveal. Because I planned it all out. It’s going to be one epic reveal and she will be very surprised and possibly angry for not telling her earlier that she’s staying in the house of a famous German football player.

            Last night, Eloise immediately went to sleep. She even skipped dinner. I’m pretty sure she was really tired and I didn’t want to wake her up. When I woke up this morning the food was gone. I put it in the microwave if she woke up in the middle of the night and was hungry. I put a note on the fridge and apparently she saw that and prepared her some food. When that was, I don’t know. I was vast asleep.

            I take a seat on the couch and wait patiently until I hear small and soft footsteps move down on the stairs. I smile and get up immediately to make her some breakfast. Eloise steps in the room and smiles at me standing in the kitchen. She might get the idea that I’m a great cook, which I am definitely not.

            “Want an egg?” I ask her. She nods and stands next to me, at a reasonable distance. I kind of wish she would stand closer to me, but I dont want to force her and make her feel uncomfortable. Then again, I wasn’t wearing a shirt just yet.

            “Aren’t you cold?” she gestures to my bare chest. It’s like she could read my mind. I shake my head.

            “I’m not, otherwise I would be wearing a shirt,” I answer, “It’s super warm outside, have you checked on het balcony yet?” She shakes her head and walks out of the kitchen, into the bathroom. In the meantime I make her some toast and an egg and place it on the kitchen table. I haven’t eaten myself, so I return to the kitchen to make some for myself. When she returns I smile and she sits down at the table and mumbles something in a language I don’t particularly understand…yet. I’d love to learn her language to make the communication barrier a little smaller.

            A few minutes later I sit down next opposite of her and I look at her. She is so beautiful. She is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen and I’m so glad to have her here ow finally. I don’t know if this will blossom in a relationship, I don’t know if we are meant to be like that, but I don’t care. I am privileged to have here now for as long as it lasts.

            “You have a really beautiful house,” she says while eating the buttered toast, “What kind of work do you do to be able to afford this?”

            “Thanks, but it gets lonely if you live alone in such a big house,” I answer, “I currently am unemployed actually, but I inherited this from my grandparents, who did make lots of money over the years.” I don’t know what else I should have said. She would wonder why I wouldn’t be at work right now and this would be the best solution to tell her something without telling her the truth yet. But she will figure out soon. She sips from her orange juice and I smile at her and she raises an eyebrow.

            “What?” she says with a very French accent, it sounds adorable. I chuckle and shake my head.

            “Nothing special,” I say, “You’re just beautiful.”

            “Don’t say that,” she mumbles and shoves the last bite of egg in her mouth. It’s quiet after that, for around a few minutes. It’s excruciating and awkward. She looks at me and I look back at her. It’s like a staring competition, filled with awkward chuckles and blushed cheeks. Just looking at her makes me feel warm on the inside. I don’t know anything about her and how can I possibly feel this strongly for a girl I met on accident through the Internet? Mario knows about it. But I wish I could tell someone else about it. Someone with more experience, someone that knows how to handle situations like this. Mario is dating this American girl, at least, that’s what he really wants, they’re just going out on dates. But that’s more than what happens between Eloise and I.

            “Soooooo…” she says.

            “Sooooooo….” I say even longer. She bursts out in laughter, “What do you wanna do today?”

            “Show me Dortmund,” she asks. I could do that, but that would mean people would see me and scream and hover over me and I don’t know how to explain situations like that to her. Maybe I should come clean.

            “I could do that, but perhaps I have to tell you something first,” I say to her. She looks at me and I think she is wondering now I have to come clean about.

            “Please don’t tell me you have a girlfriend or anything, because then all my hopes of being with you would be shattered,” she says quickly and before she knows it, it’s already out of her mouth and I heard it. She covers up her mouth, “I didn’t mean to say that, sorry.”

            “It’s okay,” I say, “I feel the same way.”

            “You do?” she asks.

            “I do,” I say and I take her hand that has ben resting on the table. Her hand is warm and sweaty, but I don’t care, “I’m really glad that you’re here.”

            “I’m really glad to be here as well, I wouldn’t want to miss it in any way,” she answers and I think she has forgotten about the fact that I wanted to tell her something. I don’t know how to do this.

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