Chapter 139: Chapter 139: Germany Sealed
The warmth of laughter still clung to the air, the echoes of promises and tears lingering like the last notes of a song.
But for tonight, the song hadn’t ended.
Together, they kept celebrating. Not just for CIF. Not just for the season. But for him—for Julian, the boy who would carry Lincoln’s banner onto the world stage.
Leo raised his soda high, eyes blazing.
"For Julian—who’ll play at the world level!"
The table erupted.
"For Julian!" they shouted in unison, glasses clinking, voices soaring like a stadium chant.
Julian lifted his glass too, the simple fizz of soda suddenly heavier than any wine. His chest tightened, but he smiled.
The sound of it—his name in their mouths, their faith crashing against him like a wave—lodged deep in his chest.
He wasn’t just a teammate anymore. He was their symbol, their proof that Lincoln wasn’t small, that they mattered.
The laughter carried on, spilling into games and stories, until hurried footsteps cut through the hum.
David.
The door banged open, cold air sweeping in with him. Breathless, sweat on his brow—like he’d sprinted straight from war, not an airport.
"We got it!"
Julian blinked, caught between confusion and disbelief.
"What... we got? Guys, this is David—my agent." He turned to the others, trying to introduce him, but David barely slowed.
"We got you the team. The one that wants you."
The Lincoln players froze. Forks hovered, laughter died, all eyes turned to Julian.
His heart thumped once, twice.
"Who is it?"
David’s grin split wide. His voice rang out like a verdict:
"Hamburger SV."
Julian froze. His breath stalled in his chest.
Hamburg?
He knew that name. A club with history, fire, and ambition. A Bundesliga 2 giant clawing its way back toward the top flight.
And they wanted him.
A raw kid from America.
His throat tightened. "...For the senior team?"
David nodded, then tempered the nod with a hand. "Yeah. But—it’s more complicated than that. Don’t think it means you’re starting up top right away. But—" his grin cracked wider, eyes fierce, "—at least they’re giving you the chance."
The words hit harder than any applause tonight. A chance. That was all he’d ever needed in both lives. The rest—what he did with it—was war.
Before Julian could answer, David pulled him into a hug, slapping his back with the force of a hammer.
"Well done, kid."
Julian let out a stunned laugh against the weight of the embrace. "Nice..."
"Details tomorrow," David cut in, finally releasing him. "Tonight? Celebrate." He dropped into a seat near Crest and Coach Owens, already flagging for a drink.
For a heartbeat, the table was silent—Lincoln’s players all staring at Julian like he’d just been drafted to Olympus.
And then—of course—Leo stood, raising his glass high, voice booming.
"For our emperor Julian—soon of Hamburger SV!"
The roar that followed nearly shook the walls.
Cael pounded the table so hard his plate rattled. Aaron tried to chant "HSV! HSV!" only to butcher the rhythm, sending Ricky into silent laughter until his shoulders shook.
Even Noah, usually the calmest of them all, cracked a real grin that stretched wider than Julian had seen in months.
...
The celebration carried on until 11:00 PM. Plates emptied, laughter softened, and the night’s fire began to cool. But as much as the players wanted to linger, discipline always snapped back like a whip.
Coach Owens clapped his hands once, his voice cutting clean through the noise.
"Enough, kids! Back home. Sleep. Don’t forget—we still have a tournament to win!"
"Yessss, Coach!" Leo was the first to answer, dragging it out with his usual grin. The others followed in chorus, groaning but obeying.
The celebration could wait. CIF couldn’t.
One by one, Lincoln’s players stood, chairs scraping, goodbyes overlapping as they filed out.
Julian made his way to Tress. She was already on her feet, adjusting her glasses, her black dress catching the soft glow of the restaurant lights.
"Let’s go back?" Julian asked.
"Yeah, let’s," she replied simply, her small smile enough to ground him after the storm of the night.
Laura and the other girls trailed with them, laughing quietly as they readied to leave.
Before stepping out, Julian glanced toward Crest. She sat near the older section, quiet and composed, a pillar in the background. Their eyes met. He walked closer.
"I’ll go back first," he said.
Crest nodded once. No words needed.
Julian’s gaze shifted to David.
"We’ll talk tomorrow."
"Of course," David replied with a wink, still buzzing from the announcement.
Coach Owens caught Julian’s shoulder as he passed, his voice low so only Julian could hear. "Proud of you, son." His hand squeezed once, firm, before letting go.
The night air was cool, the world outside their windows slipping past in streaks of shadow and light. Inside the car, silence lingered, heavy but not uncomfortable. Neither spoke at first.
Then Tress broke it.
"So... it’s locked? Germany?"
Julian’s lips curved faintly. "Yeah."
The road hummed beneath the tires, carrying them forward.
"You’ll be far," she murmured, her tone softer this time, almost hesitant.
Julian chuckled, trying to lighten it. "Hey, we’ve got phones. I can be close whenever you want. And you can come, too."
Her head turned, eyes glinting behind her glasses. "I can come?"
"Of course. You’re my girlfriend."
Tress arched a brow. "Heehhh? Did I ever agree to that?"
Julian glanced at her, smirking. "But... you do agree, right?"
She let the silence stretch before giving a mock frown. "Hmm. Fine. But I give you one point out of ten for that confession. Terrible execution."
Julian laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hahaha—sorry."
The car rolled to a stop in front of her house. As Julian shifted into park, the moment snapped.
Tress suddenly leaned across, her hand grabbing his collar, and her lips crashed against his.
"Mmmm—" Julian’s muffled sound was half shock, half surrender.
She pulled back just as quick, her smirk sharp as a blade. "Goodbye, my boyfriend. I’ll come to you in Germany."
Julian froze, brain short-circuiting. He touched his lips, eyes wide.
His pulse thundered, every thought scattering like confetti in the wind. This girl—this world—never stopped blindsiding him.
Damn... the women in this world are wild.