I take a tentative step out from the shade of the walkway and into the blazing German sun. The cheap nylon shirt I just pulled on chafes against my overheated skin, but the discomfort fades as I trace the steps of players I’ve admired for years out onto the firm turf. I spin in a slow circle to survey the thousands of empty metal seats.

Awe overtakes me, reminding me of the reason I resolved at age fourteen to one day stand here. I’ve played in stadiums this size before, but none with the gravitational presence I’m surrounded by now.

Any reverence dissipates, allowing a litany of pitiful emotions to pulse through me as I study the immaculate field I’ve dreamed of playing on for as long as I can remember. As though I’ve summoned it with my dour thoughts, a sharp stab of pain—like the jab of a needle—races from my knee upward as a reminder that coming here was probably a terrible decision. Considering some ideas I’ve had, that’s saying a lot.

There are some moments you can make happen through hard work and perseverance. Others take place whether or not you want them to.

This is a combination of the two, with a healthy helping of masochism.

I turn to leave but halt when I hear a rapid stream of German spouted behind me. I look back to see a tall guy who looks to be about my age studying me curiously as he swipes a hand through his shaggy hair. The logo on everything he’s wearing identifies him as a member of the football club whose field I’m currently trespassing on.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Water cooler?” he asks, switching to heavily accented English. My expression must clearly convey I didn’t understand a word of whatever he just said.

I glance down at the black polo I snagged that’s emblazoned with the stadium’s logo and realize immediately what he has surmised.

I flash him my most charming smile. “I don’t actually work here,” I admit, injecting my voice with a hint of the southern charm that has never failed to get me out of trouble or make males capitulate. “I just wanted to get a look at the stadium, but if I come across anyone who looks like they’d know where the water coolers are stored when I sneak back out, I’ll make sure to pass that along.”

There’s a blank stare of surprise. He clearly was not expecting me to have snuck in, or to admit that I did.

After a long moment, he smiles. I relax slightly, no longer having to feign a casual stance.

“You did not want to just take a tour?” he asks, still smiling.