He was the kind of man who never seemed to take anything seriously.
Twenty-four. A right winger for Bayern Munich and France. Dreadlocks, dark brown eyes, an effortless grin, and a reputation for being wild, carefree, and impossible to pin down.
She knew better than anyone.
Their arrangement was simple.
No relationship. No expectations. No questions.
Except he had a habit of disappearing.
Days could pass without a single message. Sometimes weeks.
Then, inevitably, her phone would light up sometime after midnight.
"Be pretty for me. Coming in 30 minutes."
She already knew what he wanted.
Netwrck
