1:30 PM - Catering Break
They broke for lunch—catering provided by Puma, set up in an adjacent room. Marco and Scarlett filled plates with sandwiches, salad, fruit.
"Mind if I sit?" Scarlett asked, even though the table had a dozen empty chairs.
"Please."
They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Other crew members were scattered around the room, but most gave the two "talent" space.
"Can I ask you something?" Scarlett said, setting down her fork.
"Sure."
"The interviews I read—you rejected Bayern
multiple times. Why? As far as I know every german footballer's final destination is Bayern Munich."
Marco had answered this question a hundred times, but somehow it felt different coming from her. Like she actually wanted to understand, not just get a quote.
"Because I like it here," he stated simply."It will be special if I can win everything with this club.
"
"But what if Dortmund never wins? What if you stay loyal and end up with nothing?"
"Then at least I'll know I tried. I'll know I didn't take the easy way." Marco paused. "My agent says character matters more than trophies. I believe him."
Scarlett studied him. "You really mean that."
"Yeah."
They held eye contact for a moment longer than necessary. Then Scarlett looked away, a slight blush coloring her cheeks.
"So," she said, clearly changing the subject, "what happens after this? You go back to Dortmund and train?"
"Yeah. Pre-season starts next week. First team training camp."
"First team? Not reserves?"
"I'll be with the first team squad. Might not play much, but I'll be there."
"That's exciting."
"You mean terrifying?"
Scarlett leaned forward slightly. "You'll be fine. You know why?"
"Why?"
"Because you don't give up. I can tell. You're the type who works harder when things get difficult." She tilted her head. "Am I wrong?"
Marco smiled. "No. You're right."
"See? I'm good at reading people."
"What about you?" Marco asked. "What's next after this?"
"I have a shoot in Munich next week. Some catalog work. Then hopefully more agency bookings." Scarlett's expression turned uncertain. "If I'm good enough."
"You're great. I watched you earlier—you're a natural."
"That's kind of you to say, but modeling is competitive. There are thousands of girls prettier, taller, more experienced. I'm just... lucky to be here."
"Stop belitting yourself. Don't wait for someone's approval. You're talented. Own it."
Scarlett blinked. "That's... thank you."
"I mean it. You're good at this. Don't let anyone make you think otherwise."
Something shifted in her expression—gratitude, maybe, or surprise that someone believed in her.
"You're really not what I expected," she said softly.
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know. An arrogant footballer who'd treat this shoot like a chore and barely talk to me."
She smiled. "Instead I got someone who's actually interesting."
"Interesting is a low bar."
"Trust me, in this industry, it's not."
They talked for another twenty minutes—about families, hometowns, dreams, fears. The conversation flowed effortlessly, like they'd known each other for months instead of hours.
Julia, the Puma coordinator, eventually interrupted. "Sorry to break this up, but we need to get back on schedule. Stefan wants to do the outdoor shots while the light's good."
Scarlett stood, then paused. "This has been fun."
"Yeah," Marco agreed. "Really fun."
She smiled—the real smile, not the deliberate, practiced one—and walked back toward the studio.
Marco sat for a moment longer, processing. He'd come to Hamburg expecting a tedious photoshoot. Instead, he'd spent the morning talking to someone who somehow understood him better after three hours than most people did after three months.
This is dangerous, he thought. I need to be careful.
But as he followed her back to the studio, he couldn't stop smiling.
3:00 PM - Outdoor Shoot
The final setup was outside, on the studio's rooftop terrace. Hamburg's harbor stretched out behind them, water glittering in the afternoon sun.
Stefan positioned them near the edge, city skyline as backdrop.
"This is the hero shot," he explained. "Athletic, aspirational, but still accessible. You two represent the future—young, talented, authentic."
He had them stand close together, shoulders almost touching, looking out over the city rather than at the camera.
"Pretend I'm not here," Stefan said. "Just two friends enjoying the view."
They stood in silence for a moment. Marco was acutely aware of her proximity—the warmth radiating from her body, the way her hair moved slightly in the breeze.
"Beautiful view," Scarlett said quietly.
"Yeah."
"You know what's weird?"
"Mm?"
"This morning, I didn't know you existed. Now I feel like I've known you forever."
Marco glanced at her. She was still looking at the city, profile backlit by the sun.
"I know what you mean," he said.
She turned to face him. They were close enough that he could see gold flecks in her green eyes.
"Can I tell you something?" she asked.
"Anything."
"I was really nervous this morning. Like, almost-canceled nervous. I've done shoots before, but never with another person, never anything this big. I thought it would be really hard to create the chemistry with a stranger. I thought I'd embarrass myself."
"You didn't."
"Because you made it easy. You were kind, and funny, and real. You made me feel like I belonged here." Scarlett paused. "Thank you for that."
"You did the same for me."
Click. Click. Click.
Stefan was shooting, but they barely noticed.
"This might sound weird," Scarlett continued, "but I'm glad it was you. For this shoot, I mean. I'm glad it was you."
"Me too."
Unknowingly both of their hearts was racing, beating in sync.
They stood there, city behind them, golden hour light painting everything warm. The moment stretched, comfortable and charged at the same time.
"Marco?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't let this be the last time we talk."
His heart rate picked up. "You mean..."
"I mean..." She hesitated, vulnerability showing through her usual confidence. "I'd like to see you again. Maybe not for work. Just... to talk. Like this."
Marco's mind raced. He let a smile appear on his face involuntarily—
"I'd like that too," he heard himself say.
Her face lit up. "Really?"
"Yeah... actually I was considering how to say it, but I didn't expect for you to beat me to it."
"Okay. Good." Scarlett smiled and pulled out her phone. "Give me your number."
They exchanged numbers right there on the rooftop, while Stefan continued shooting, capturing something neither of them had planned but both of them would remember.
4:30 PM - Wrap
Stefan called it. "That's a wrap! Excellent work, both of you. We got everything we needed and more."
The crew applauded—tradition at the end of a good shoot. Marco and Scarlett stood there, suddenly awkward now that the structure of work was gone.
"So," Scarlett said.
"So."
"My train back to Essen leaves at seven."
"Mine to Dortmund leaves at six."
They had ninety minutes.
Julia approached with paperwork. "Just need some signatures, then you're both free to go."
They signed release forms, confirmed contact information for Puma, made small talk with crew members who wanted to thank them.
Finally, they found themselves alone near the studio entrance, the afternoon sun slanting through tall windows.
"This was really great," Scarlett said.
"Yeah. Really great."
"Will you... will you actually call? Or text? Or was that just a nice thing to say?"
Marco looked at her—this beautiful, talented, surprisingly insecure girl who'd somehow seen right through him in the span of six hours.
"I'll text you tonight," he promised.
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She smiled, relieved. "Okay. Good."
A car pulled up outside—Scarlett's ride to the train station.
"That's me," she said, not moving.
"Yeah."
They stood there, neither wanting to be the first to leave.
Finally, Scarlett stepped forward and hugged him. Quick, light, friendly—but Marco felt it anyway, the connection sparking where they touched.
"Talk soon, Marco Reus."
"Talk soon, Scarlett Gatzke."
She got in the car. Waved through the window. The car pulled away.
Marco stood there for a full minute after she'd gone, processing what had just happened.
His phone buzzed. Text from Tim:
"How was the photoshoot? Did you get her number?"
Marco stared at the message, then looked up at the Hamburg sky.
Oh no, he thought. Oh no, no, no.
But despite the complication, despite the timing, despite every logical reason this was a bad idea, he was smiling.
He typed back:
"Since when did you become a prophet?"