I love you

The neon glow of the PlayStation controller pulsed rhythmically in the dim light of Jamal’s living room. It was a Tuesday night, a rare quiet moment in the middle of a frantic Bundesliga season. For Nini, these nights were both a sanctuary and a torture chamber.

She sat cross-legged on the oversized sofa, her brown curls tied back in a messy bun that was slowly unraveling. As a social media intern for Bayern Munich, she was supposed to be professional, but Jamal had a way of blurring those lines. He was her friend, her confidant, and the man who currently held her heart in a vice grip—without having the slightest clue.

"You know," Jamal started, his eyes fixed on the television screen as he maneuvered his character through a digital landscape. "Pavlo was asking about you today. He mentioned that he really likes that coffee shop you posted on your story."

Nini’s thumb slipped on the joystick. Her character ran straight into a wall. "Oh? That’s nice of him."

"I think you should take him there," Jamal continued, his voice casual, almost helpful. "He’s a good guy, Nini. Really steady. I think you two would make a great couple. Especially after that hug at the training ground the other day—I mean, the chemistry was obvious."

Nini felt a familiar heat rise in her chest. That hug. Aleksandar Pavlović was one of her best friends at the club, a brotherly figure who had caught her on a bad day when she’d received some stressful news from home. It had been a five-second embrace of pure platonic comfort. But Jamal had walked by at the exact wrong moment, and ever since, he’d turned into a one-man matchmaking agency.

"Jamal, stop," she said, her voice tighter than she intended.

"I’m just saying! You’re both young, you both work at the club, you’re both cute..." He paused, finally glancing at her with that innocent, wide-eyed look that usually made her melt. "I just want you to be happy, Nini. And I think he’s the one who can do that."

Across town, she knew Pavlo was probably laughing his head off. He knew exactly how she felt about Jamal. He’d even joked about "playing the villain" just to see how long it would take for Jamal to snap. But Jamal wasn't snapping. He was pushing her away with a smile on his face.

Nini dropped the controller. It hit the carpet with a dull thud.

"Is it really that hard for you to see?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Jamal paused the game. "See what? That you’re shy? Don’t worry, I can talk to him for you. I can set up a dinner—"

"I don't want a dinner with Pavlo!" Nini stood up, her petite frame vibrating with a sudden, uncontrollable surge of frustration. "I don't want to go to a coffee shop with him, and I don't want you to talk to him for me! Why are you so obsessed with giving me away to someone else?"

Jamal blinked, taken aback by the sudden fire in her eyes. "I’m not giving you away, I’m helping—"

"You’re not helping! You’re being oblivious!" She began to pace the small space between the sofa and the TV, her hands gesturing wildly. "I don't like Pavlo. I’ve never liked Pavlo. That hug was because I was having a panic attack about my sister's exams! He’s like a brother to me, Jamal. A brother who, by the way, thinks this whole thing is hilarious because he knows!"

Jamal stood up slowly, looking confused. "Knows what?"

"He knows that I’m in love with you!" The words burst out of her like a dam breaking.

Jamal froze. The silence in the room became deafening, punctuated only by the hum of the cooling fan in the console.

"It’s you," Nini continued, the dam now completely gone, the words spilling out in a nervous, frantic rush. "It’s always been you. Since the first day I started the internship and you tripped over your own feet trying to say hello to me. I like the way you bite your lip when you’re concentrating on a game. I like that you still get shy when fans scream your name. I like that you’re the most talented person in the building but you still treat the cleaning staff like they’re royalty. I like your stupid jokes and the way you always make sure I’ve eaten before a long shoot. I’ve been sitting here for months, pining for you, and you’ve spent that entire time trying to pawn me off on one of your teammates!"

She took a gasping breath, her face flushed a deep crimson. Jamal looked like he had been struck by lightning. His mouth was slightly open, his eyes darting across her face as if trying to process a language he didn't speak.

"Nini..." he started, his voice faint.

"No," she snapped, her eyes stinging with tears of embarrassment. "Don't. Just... forget it. Forget I said anything. It’s fine. I’m going home. We can just... go back to being friends and you can stop playing Cupid because the bow is broken, okay?"

She grabbed her coat and bag, stumbling toward the door.

"Nini, wait, let’s talk about this," Jamal called out, finally finding his feet.

"Goodnight, Jamal!" she shouted back, slamming the door behind her.

The walk home was a blur of cold Munich air and hot tears. She felt like a fool. She had laid her soul bare to a man who looked at her like she was a difficult math equation. She crawled into bed and stayed there, ignoring the buzzing of her phone until she finally fell into a fitful, exhausted sleep.

---

The next day was an exercise in avoidance. Nini stayed in the media office, hiding behind her monitor, claiming she had a mountain of Reels to edit. She saw Jamal from a distance during training, his tall, lean figure moving across the pitch with his usual grace, but she didn't linger. Every time she thought about the night before, her stomach did a painful flip.

By the time she got home that evening, she was drained. She had just changed into an oversized hoodie and leggings when a knock sounded at her door.

Her heart skipped. She looked through the peephole and felt the air leave her lungs. Jamal was standing in the hallway, looking ruffled in a dark tracksuit, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

She opened the door just a crack. "Jamal? It’s late."

"I know," he said, his voice low. "Can I come in?"

She hesitated, then stepped back to let him pass. He walked into her small apartment, looking curiously out of place among her fairy lights and stacks of books. He turned to face her, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I’ve been thinking," he said. "All day. In the locker room, on the pitch, in the car. I couldn't focus on anything else."

Nini hugged her arms across her chest, feeling small. "Look, if you’re here to tell me you don't feel the same, you could have just texted. I already know. I was embarrassed enough yesterday."

"That’s the thing," Jamal interrupted, stepping closer. "I’ve been trying to figure out how I feel. I thought about you and Pavlo, and I realized that every time I suggested it, I felt this... weird tightness in my chest. I thought I was just being a good friend, making sure you were taken care of. But today, thinking about what you said... I realized I was just trying to control a situation I didn't understand."

Nini looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She looked so delicate in the dim light of her entryway, her curls framing a face that was etched with the fear of rejection.

"I still can't quite figure it all out," Jamal admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "My head is a mess, Nini. I don't have a grand speech like you did. I don't know if I’m doing this right."

"It’s fine, Jamal," she said, her voice breaking. "Really. You don't have to force anything. Just... it's fine."

She looked like she was about to cry, and the sight of it sent a jolt through him. He didn't think; he didn't analyze the physics of the movement or the social implications. He just knew that he couldn't stand the space between them anymore. He wanted to protect her, to hold her, to keep that look off her face forever.

He reached out, his large hands cupping her face, and tilted her head up. Before she could gasp, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

It wasn't a cinematic explosion. There were no fireworks, no sudden racing of his pulse that felt like a sprint down the wing at the Allianz Arena. Instead, it was a slow, deep sinking into something familiar.

The kiss lasted longer than he intended. It was soft, hesitant at first, then deepening as Nini’s hands found the fabric of his sweatshirt, pulling him closer.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers. He felt a profound sense of stillness, a quietude he rarely found in his high-octane life.

"It didn't make my heart race," he breathed against her skin, causing Nini to stiffen slightly in confusion.

He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"It felt like peace," he clarified. "I think... I think that’s much better."

Nini let out a shaky laugh, a single tear finally escaping and rolling down her cheek. She reached up, wiping it away with her thumb before resting her hand on his chest.

"So," she whispered. "No more dates with Pavlo?"

Jamal chuckled, wrapping his arms securely around her waist and pulling her petite frame flush against him. "If I see him hugging you again, I might actually have to start a fight. And we both know he’s bigger than me."

"I’ll protect you," Nini teased, burying her face in his chest.

"I think," Jamal said, kissing the top of her head, "that you already have."