Makeout

The Allianz Arena was a whirlwind of red and white, a cacophony of chanting fans that usually made Nini feel alive. Today, however, she felt the weight of a gaze that wasn’t coming from the pitch.

She sat in her usual spot, her curly brown hair tied back in a messy bun, wearing a vintage Bayern jersey that was three sizes too big for her petite frame. Down on the grass, Jamal was doing what he did best—gliding past defenders as if they were statues. He looked up toward her section briefly, flashing that shy, boyish grin she knew so well, before refocusing on the game.

Nini smiled back, her heart doing that familiar, annoying little flutter. They had been friends since they were teenagers, back when he was just a skinny kid with big dreams and she was the girl next door who helped him with his German homework. But lately, the lines had blurred.

It had started three months ago at her twenty-third birthday party. Too many gin and tonics had led to a fit of giggles in her kitchen, which had somehow turned into a clumsy, laughing kiss. At the time, they had leaned against her counter, breathless with laughter, dismissing it as a "drunk mistake."

Except, it wasn't.

A week later, Jamal had stopped by her apartment to drop off a hoodie she’d left in his car. He hadn’t even crossed the threshold before he pinned her against the doorframe and kissed her with a hunger that definitely wasn't "just friends." Since then, their relationship had become a series of heated make-out sessions and whispered jokes, always behind closed doors, always followed by a return to their comfortable, platonic public persona. Neither of them had dared to ask what it meant.

"He’s incredible, isn't he?"

Nini blinked, turning to see Aleksandar Pavlović standing near the railing of the player's family section. The game had ended minutes ago, and the players were doing their lap of honor.

"Jamal? Yeah, he’s alright I guess," Nini joked, her eyes crinkling.

Aleks chuckled, leaning against the rail. He was tall, talented, and had a charm that was hard to ignore. "I’ve seen you at almost every home game this season. I’m Aleks."

"I know who you are," she laughed softly. "I’m Nini."

"Nini," he repeated, testing the name. "Jamal’s friend, right? He mentions you sometimes. I didn't realize you were this beautiful in person."

Before she could respond, Jamal approached the sidelines, wiping sweat from his forehead with his shirt—a sight that usually made Nini’s throat go dry. He looked between Aleks and Nini, his expression flickering from exhaustion to sharp alertness.

"Hey, Aleks," Jamal said, his voice unusually clipped. "You coming to the locker room?"

"In a second, Bambi," Aleks grinned, nudging Jamal’s shoulder. "I was just telling Nini she should come grab a drink with us sometime. Or better yet, maybe just with me? What do you think, Jamal? You wouldn't mind if I took your friend out, would you?"

Nini looked at Jamal, expecting him to make a joke or roll his eyes. Instead, Jamal’s jaw tightened. He looked at Nini, his dark eyes searching hers for a long, silent moment. The silence stretched until it became uncomfortable.

"She’s a grown woman, Aleks," Jamal finally said, his voice flat. "She can do what she wants."

Aleks turned back to Nini, his smile widening. "Well, in that case, Nini? Dinner Friday night?"

Nini felt Jamal’s gaze burning into the side of her head. A part of her was waiting for him to say something—anything—to claim her. But he just stood there, clutching his water bottle so hard his knuckles turned white.

"Sure, Aleks," Nini said, her voice bolder than she felt. "Friday sounds great."

---

Friday night arrived with a cold drizzle that mirrored Nini’s mood. She was standing in front of her mirror, adjusting the strap of her black dress, when a thunderous knock echoed through her small apartment.

She frowned. Aleks wasn't supposed to pick her up for another twenty minutes.

When she opened the door, she didn't find the tall, blond midfielder she was expecting. Instead, Jamal stood there, drenched from the rain, his hoodie pulled low over his brow. He looked frantic.

"Jamal? What are you doing here? You’re soaking wet."

He didn't wait for an invitation. He stepped inside, the scent of rain and his familiar cologne filling her entryway. He paced the small length of her hallway, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"You can't go," he said abruptly.

Nini blinked, leaning against the wall. "Excuse me?"

"The date. With Pavlović. You can't go, Nini."

Nini felt a spark of irritation flare in her chest. She crossed her arms, her curly hair bouncing with the movement. "And why not? You were standing right there when he asked. You said I could do what I want."

Jamal stopped pacing and turned to face her. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. "I was being an idiot. I thought... I thought I could handle it. But I spent the whole week watching him talk about you in training. He’s planning where to take you, what he’s going to say... and I realized I want to tackle him every time he says your name."

"Jamal, we’re friends," Nini said, her voice trembling slightly. "That’s what we agreed on, isn't it? We laugh about the kissing, we pretend it doesn't happen the next morning, and we go back to being Nini and Jamal. You don't get to be jealous."

"I’m not pretending anymore!" Jamal shouted, the volume of his voice startling them both. He took a shaky breath, stepping closer until he was mere inches from her. "I haven't been pretending for a long time, Nini. Do you think I kiss you like that because I’m bored? Do you think I come over here at two in the morning just because I want to watch a movie?"

"Then why haven't you said anything?" Nini challenged, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. "We’ve had a hundred chances to talk about this. Every time things get 'heated,' as you put it, you leave before the sun comes up. You make it feel like a secret you’re ashamed of."

Jamal reached out, his hands hovering near her waist before he finally pulled her toward him. His touch was desperate. "I wasn't ashamed. I was terrified. You’re my best friend, Nini. You’re the only person who sees me as Jamal, not as the 'Starboy' or the jersey number. I thought if I told you I was falling for you, and you didn't feel the same, I’d lose everything."

Nini looked up at him, her heart hammering against her ribs. "You’re an idiot, Jamal Musiala."

"I know," he whispered, his forehead resting against hers. "But please. Don't go out with him. I can't stand the thought of him touching you. I can't stand the thought of anyone else having what I’ve been too scared to claim."

"He’s going to be here in ten minutes," Nini whispered, though she was already reaching up to wrap her arms around Jamal’s neck.

"Let him knock," Jamal muttered. He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a way that wasn't laughing or playful. It was possessive, deep, and honest.

When he pulled back, his eyes were clear for the first time in months. "I love you, Nini. I’ve loved you since we were fifteen and you shared your Snickers bar with me because I forgot my lunch. I don't want to be 'just friends' who hook up. I want to be yours. Properly."

Nini felt the tension leave her body, replaced by a warmth that no radiator could provide. She reached up, tucking a stray damp curl behind his ear.

"You really are a dramatic footballer," she teased, though her voice was thick with emotion. "You waited until I was fully dressed and had my makeup done to tell me this?"

Jamal let out a weak, relieved laugh, his hands sliding down to rest securely on her hips. "Does this mean the date is canceled?"

"I’ll text him," Nini said, leaning in to kiss him again. "I think I’d much rather stay here and see if you can be this honest for the rest of the night."

Jamal grinned, the shy, genuine smile that always made her melt. "I think I can manage that."

Outside, the rain continued to pour, but inside the small apartment, the lines were finally, irrevocably drawn. There were no more secrets, no more laughing off the tension. There was just Jamal and Nini, exactly where they were always meant to be.