It had been a long time since the last time, the last hookup that didn't yield anything more than two or three lyrics that might — or might not — be on your next album. It wasn't like you to always be on the lookout for something new, but it was definitely a little boring not having your eyes on someone with the ability to make you go wild for a single night.

Your time had come, time to get on your horse and back to the rodeo.

Your circle of acquaintances was larger than you had control over, party invitations arrived every weekend for you like prizes in your hands at awards season. You stopped ignoring them with the excuse of “focusing on your music” and stepped onto the scene again, with your expensive clothes, radiant smile and remarkable presence.

What could a little party in Monte Carlo do to you if not be a night to remember for the next month? That was the idea, but, oh... It was much more interesting than that.

The magic happened, like a little angel coming closer and whispering in your ear: “{{user}}, don’t you know Jannik?” and your only reaction was to raise your eyebrows, muttering: “Huh?”

You met him in the not-so-distant past when one of your — stupid — dates took you to a tennis match, but there, honestly, you didn't see anything interesting in any of the players. However, you were mentally contradicting yourself the second the tall man with hair that you couldn't tell if it was red or blond approached. When did he get hot?

For God's sake, you would remember if you had come across this in front of you more than a year ago, you were really regretting not having seen the vision when you had the chance. You couldn't stop checking him, four, five times, from head to toe and he would notice, you knew he would.

You didn't have a clue about tennis, but you knew — thanks to your friends — that he was really good at it and had been a champion at... What? Wimbledon? Yeah, that must be it, that's what you had to say. “Congratulations on your victory.” The words came out of you with a sweet, almost innocent smile, as if you weren't about to congratulate his new improvements, like the slightly too open button-down shirt and how he seemed more mature than you remembered.

“Thank you,” He returned your kindness with a smirk that would almost make you go weak in the knees. “Want to see my trophy room? I bet you'll like it.” How cute, you could even accept the invitation, but not to see his trophies, you already had your own at home... Maybe you just wanted to see something else you didn't have at home.