Callum could manage scoring goals and talking to the press, but there is one thing that he was never great at managing: women.
It’s either that he never had time to reciprocate their feelings, or he just wouldn’t at all.
Standing in his room, he looks at two sets of clothes; one is a charcoal suit, tailored to fit his exact measurements, the other is a simple dress shirt and black slacks.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a heavy sigh as he stared down at them.
Navigating a six-yard box against a group of defenders was second nature to him.
Reading a center-back’s body language, timing a header, dealing with thousands of screaming fans- that was easy.
But trying to figure out what to wear for a 9:00 PM dinner with a girl had him completely out of his depth.
If I wear the charcoal suit, I look like I’m trying way too hard, he thought, running a hand through his damp, freshly washed hair.
If I show up in a dress shirt and slacks, is it too low effort?
Or is it just right?
He checks his phone on the nightstand: 8:22 PM.
“Unbelievable,” Callum mutters to himself, pacing the hardwood floor.
Just then his phone buzzed, another message from Chloe:
“I got us a nice place; they promised us privacy and a full course. Hope you are hungry😉.”
Callum smiles, pulling on the black slacks, feeling the smooth, perfect cut of the tailoring against his legs, then threw on the crisp white dress shirt.
Instead of suffocating himself with a tie, he leaves the top two buttons undone, giving the formal ensemble an effortless, relaxed edge.
He steps into a pair of sleek black loafers, checks his watch, and throws the suit jacket over his shoulder.
Callum took a final look in the full-length mirror.
Clean, sharp, and confident.
He grabs his keys, phone, and wallet, heading downstairs.
His grandmother does a double-take and looks at him.
“Callum Ian Vance. Where are you going so dressed up?”
Callum pauses on the bottom step, adjusting the suit jacket resting over his shoulder as he catches his grandmother’s sharp, inquisitive gaze.
“Out for dinner, Nan,” he says, a subtle, sheepish grin breaking through as he checks his watch.
His grandmother crosses her arms, looking him up and down, taking in the crisp white dress shirt, the open collar, and the tailored slacks.
A knowing smile tugs at the corner of her lips.
“Out for dinner dressed like that?” she asks, raising an eyebrow with an amused glint in her eye.
“You didn’t even put that much effort in for your uncle’s wedding! Who is she?”
“Just… a friend from town,” Callum replies smoothly, though a faint warmth creeps up his neck.
“She set up a late dinner downtown to celebrate the win.”
“A ‘friend,’ is it?” She shakes her head, coming over to smooth down the collar of his shirt with a tender pat on his chest.
“Well, ‘friend’ or not, don’t keep her waiting. And don’t you dare spend the whole night talking about football tactics, Callum. Be a gentleman.”
“I will, Nan, promise,” Callum laughs, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Don’t wait up for me.”
“I won’t. Have a good time!” She responds as she shoo’s him out the door.
With his phone buzzing in his pocket, Chloe sending over the restaurant’s address, Callum steps out into the cool evening air.
He presses the key fob to unlock his Honda Accord sitting in the driveway, tossing his suit jacket onto the passenger seat before sliding behind the wheel.
He plugs the address into the dash navigation, keys in the destination, and pulls smoothly out onto the road, heading downtown for his date.
The drive into Leeds city centre at 8:45 PM is quiet, the post-match traffic from Elland Road having long dissipated into the surrounding suburbs.
The Accord glides smoothly down Wellington Street, the glow of streetlights reflecting off the wet asphalt and the polished black hood of the car.
Pushing deeper into the heart of the city, the modern glass high-rises give way to Victorian stone masonry and grand historic architecture.
Callum turns down Quebec Street, navigating toward Quebec House, a magnificent stone building tucked just off City Square.
The street is peaceful at this hour, lined with parked executive saloons and shadowed alcoves.
After finding a secluded parking spot just around the corner, Callum cuts the engine.
He pulls on his suit jacket, adjusts his unbuttoned collar in the rearview mirror, and steps out into the crisp evening air.
He spots Chloe waiting right outside the discreet, understated entrance on Quebec Street.
Above the doorway, a subtle canopy bears the name in brass lettering: Sous Le Nez.
He steps up to the pavement just outside the brass-lettered entrance, slipping his arms into his suit jacket and adjusting the lapels before pulling his hands smoothly into his slacks’ pockets.
The streetlamps cast a warm glow against the cool night air as he walks over.
His eyes take her in properly for the first time, and his breath catches just a fraction.
Chloe looks absolute perfection against the backdrop of the quiet city night.
She’s wearing a fitted charcoal knit dress that hugs her frame, paired with an elegant dark trench coat casually draped over her shoulders to cut the nighttime chill.
Her hair falls in soft waves over her collarbones, and her makeup is subtle yet striking, especially the dark, confident shade of lipstick that accents her smile.
“Beautiful night,” Callum says, his voice low and smooth as he stops right in front of her.
A subtle, admiring smirk touches his lips as his gaze sweeps over her again.
“Though I have to admit… you’re easily the best view out here. You look incredible, Chloe.”
Chloe’s smile widens, a flicker of genuine delight crossing her eyes as she leans in slightly, her gaze lingering on his unbuttoned dress shirt and sharp jacket.
“Not too bad yourself, Mr. Vance,” she replies softly, her voice carrying a playful warmth.
“I see you didn’t just come to eat; you came to make a statement.”
“Only the best for a late-night reservation,” he grins, gesturing toward the understated doorway.
“Shall we head in?”
“After you,” she says with a slight tilt of her head, maintaining a comfortable distance even as her eyes track him with an intense, intrigued focus.
Callum pulls open the heavy door for her, and they step out of the night air and begin their descent down into the warm, candlelit atmosphere of the subterranean bistro.
The ambient warmth of the bistro washes over them as they follow the maître d’ past the busy main bar, down a short timber step, and through a stone archway into a quiet corner of the room.
The booth is tucked neatly into an alcove of exposed brick, bathed in the soft glow of a single brass wall sconce and a flickering table candle.
Callum pulls out the plush leather bench seat for Chloe, waiting until she settles in before stepping around to sit across from her.
As they sit down, the subtle distance between them feels both comfortable and electrifying.
The flickering candlelight catches the deep tones of Chloe’s dark lipstick and highlights the sharp line of Callum’s jaw, casting soft shadows across the small wooden table.
“I have to hand it to you,” Callum says, unfurling his cloth napkin and placing it across his lap.
He glances around the cozy nook, impressed.
“You definitely delivered on the privacy. This place feels like a well-kept secret.”
Chloe tilts her head, resting her chin lightly on her hand as her dark eyes fixate on him across the candlelit table.
A subtle, captivating smile plays on her lips.
“I told you I’d find us somewhere proper,” she says, her tone smooth and measured.
“A star striker can’t exactly enjoy a five-star meal when people are constantly coming over to ask for photos or talk about football.”
Callum chuckles, “Speaking of which, I never pegged you as a football fan.”
Chloe rests her elbows on the dark wood table, lacing her fingers together as her eyes lock onto his with a cool, playful intensity.
“I’m not a football fan, Callum,” she says, her voice low enough to barely carry over the soft jazz playing in the background.
“I’m a talent fan. Big difference.”
Callum raises an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly as the candle flame flickers between them.
“Is that right?”
“It is,” she smiles, her dark eyes glittering in the soft light.
“Watching twenty-two guys chase a ball around for ninety minutes? Not really my thing. But watching someone who knows exactly what they’re doing, who moves like they own every inch of the pitch before they even touch the ball… that is interesting.”
She tilts her head, her eyes tracing the sharp line of his jaw down to his open collar before meeting his gaze again.
“I was just waiting for every touch you had on the ball. I didn’t understand half of what was going on, the football in 15-minute videos I watched only did so much.”
Callum lets out a quiet, genuine laugh, the subtle tension in his shoulders melting away as her confession lands.
“Wait, you actually watched videos to prepare for this?” he asks, his grin widening as he sets his menu flat on the table.
“That’s dedication. Most new fans just smile, nod, and pretend they know what offside means.”
Chloe’s lips curve into a self-amused smile, not looking the least bit flustered. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
“I like to do my homework. Though I’ll admit, reading about a ‘low block’ and a ‘half-space’ on the internet doesn’t really translate when you’re sitting in a stadium with thousands of screaming people.”
“No, it definitely doesn’t,” Callum agrees, leaning his forearms on the edge of the table, his gaze locking back onto hers.
“Though if you ever want a proper explanation that doesn’t sound like a dry textbook, you’ve got a personal analyst sitting right across from you.”
“Is that so?” Chloe tilts her head, her dark eyes sparkling under the dim sconce light.
“Careful, Callum. I might hold you to that.”
“I’m counting on it,” he says, his tone smooth and steady.
Before the moment can stretch too far, the waiter steps back up to their alcove, notepad in hand, breaking the magnetic lock between them.
“Good evening,” the waiter says politely, offering a warm nod.
“Are we ready for some drinks to start, or would you like a few more minutes with the menu?”
Chloe doesn’t hesitate, looking up at the waiter with a relaxed, confident smile.
“To start, I’ll have the pan-seared scallops with cauliflower purée, and for the main, the duck breast with the red wine and cherry reduction,” she says smoothly, handing back her menu.
Procedural and quick, the waiter turns his pen toward Callum.
“And for you, sir?”
Callum closes his menu and slides it toward the edge of the table, his eyes flicking over to Chloe with a subtle, playful glint.
“Make it two,” Callum says, his voice steady.
“I’ll have exactly what she’s having.”
Chloe raises an eyebrow, a surprised yet distinctly amused smirk playing on her lips as the waiter nods, quickly writing down the order.
“An excellent choice,” the waiter says with a polite bow of his head.
As the waiter turns and disappears through the archway, Chloe rests her chin in her palm, her dark eyes locking back onto Callum’s across the flickering candle flame.
“Living dangerously, aren’t we?” she murmurs, her tone full of playful intrigue.
“Trusting my taste without even looking at the rest of the menu?”
“I like to take risks,” Callum replies with a quiet grin, matching her playful tone.
“Besides… so far tonight, your taste hasn’t disappointed.”
Chloe blinks, the playful smirk on her lips softening into a look of genuine surprise.
“You know, I actually realized that we barely know each other.”
Callum chuckles, “Well, no time like the present. Once again, my name is Callum Vance. I am 17 years old, turning 18 next month. I’m originally from Liverpool, but I spent most of my years here in Leeds.”
Chloe’s dark eyes widen slightly as the numbers register, a momentary look of pure disbelief flashing across her face before a soft, breathless laugh escapes her lips.
“Seventeen?” she echoes, leaning back against the plush leather booth and taking him in with a whole new level of astonishment.
“Are you serious? You’re seventeen and playing like that in front of forty thousand people?”
Callum grins, a slight, self-deprecating shrug of his shoulders as he leans back too.
“Turning eighteen next month, as I said. But yeah… seventeen.”
“Unbelievable,” Chloe murmurs, shaking her head as a faint, impressed smile settles back onto her lips.
Her gaze lingers on his broad frame, his calm composure, and the sharp cut of his suit.
“I was expecting you to say twenty. You carry yourself like you’ve been doing this for ages.”
“When you step into a locker room full of grown men at sixteen, you learn to grow up pretty fast,” Callum says, his tone smooth and grounded.
“If you act like a kid, they treat you like one. So you just… adapt.”
“Clearly,” she replies, her tone dropping into that warm, intimate register again as her eyes search his face.
“I am Chloë Grace Moretz, I’m 18, and I am from LA, I am an actress.”
Callum pauses, his cup held halfway to his lips as the name sits in the air between them.
He looks at her blankly for a second, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion.
“Chloë Grace Moretz…” he repeats, tasting the name as if trying to place it.
He sets his glass back down, offering her an apologetic, slightly sheepish grin.
“I’m not going to lie to you, Chloë… I have no idea who you are.”
Chloe blinks, completely taken aback for a beat, before a sudden, bright laugh bursts out of her.
It’s a full, rich laugh that breaks through the quiet ambient noise of the bistro, completely devoid of any Hollywood posture.
“You’re joking,” she says, leaning in and searching his face for any sign that he’s pulling her leg.
“You actually don’t know?”
“I spend ninety percent of my time watching match footage and the other ten percent sleeping,” Callum laughs, raising his hands in defense.
“My film knowledge ends somewhere around whatever my nan has playing on the telly in the afternoon.”
“Honestly? That is unbelievably refreshing,” Chloe smiles, her dark eyes sparkling with genuine amusement as she rests her chin in her hand.
“Alright, short version: I’ve been doing it since I was a kid, Hollywood films, red carpets, traveling all over the world for shoots.”
She pauses, her gaze fixing on him with an appreciative, amused warmth.
“I’m usually standing in front of massive film crews or dodging paparazzi in LA. Which means getting to sit quietly with someone who literally has no clue about any of that… is probably the best part of my month.”
Callum lets out a chuckle, leaning back against the leather booth and taking her in with a fresh wave of curiosity.
“What’s your family like?”
Chloe smiles warmly, her expression softening into something genuinely fond as she takes a sip of her water and rests her glass on the table.
“Big, protective, and completely crazy,” she says with a low laugh, her eyes meeting his across the flickering candlelight.
“I have four older brothers. Growing up with four guys looking out for you means you either learn to hold your own real fast, or you get crushed. There’s no middle ground.”
Callum raises an eyebrow, a knowing grin touching his lips.
“Four older brothers? That must’ve made bringing anyone home an absolute nightmare.”
“Nightmare doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Chloe chuckles, shaking her head.
“They’re incredibly tight-knit, though. Two of my brothers actually work with me full-time; one’s my acting coach and the other manages a lot of my day-to-day. So even when I’m traveling all over the world for shoots, I’ve almost always got family with me to keep me grounded.”
She tilts her head, her dark eyes reflecting the warm light of the sconce as she turns the focus back onto him.
“My mom was a nurse and raised us with a really strong work ethic,” she continues softly.
“So no matter how big the movies got or how crazy Hollywood was, family was always the baseline. What about you?”
“Nah, I live with my grandma; my mom and dad are back in Liverpool.” He replies simply.
“Ah, so you’ve got your own space down here, but the roots are still back in Liverpool,” Chloe says, leaning back against the plush leather padding, her eyes fixed on him with a warm, attentive focus.
“That must be a big shift, living away from your parents at seventeen, even if your Grandma is there to keep you in line.”
“It keeps me focused,” Callum says smoothly.
“My parents come down for as many matches as they can, but my dad’s still working back home, and my mom isn’t keen on leaving Liverpool just yet. Besides, living with my nan means I get a proper homemade meal after every match day, so I’m definitely not complaining.”
Chloe chuckles softly, a genuine, relaxed sound that fills the space between them.
“Sounds like she’s the real manager in your life.”
“You have no idea,” Callum grins, before continuing his banter.
“If my game is off, she lets me know before I even leave home.”
Before Chloe can reply, the waiter glides back to their table carrying two steaming white porcelain plates, carefully setting down the pan-seared scallops with cauliflower purée in front of them.
The delicate, savory aroma fills the secluded alcove, cutting through the air.
“Your starters,” the waiter says with a polite bow, placing two cold, condensation-ringed glasses of sparkling water with fresh lemon beside their plates.
“Enjoy.”
Chloe looks down at the beautifully plated scallops, then glances back up at Callum with a mischievous, glittering look in her dark eyes.
She picks up her fork and raises her water glass in a quiet, mock toast across the small wooden table.
Callum takes his fork, a relaxed, confident grin spreading across his face as the flickering candle casts long shadows against the brick archway.
“If the food is half as good as the company,” Callum replies, holding her gaze with a calm, easy intensity, “I reckon I will enjoy every bite of this.”
“You have a way with words, don’t you?” Chloe smiles, allowing him to have the first bite.
Callum’s smirk deepens slightly, a spark of playful challenge in his eyes.
He cuts off a delicate, golden piece of the scallop, dips it lightly into the creamy cauliflower purée, and takes the first bite.
Chloe watches him intently, resting her chin on her hand, waiting for his honest reaction.
He takes a moment, savoring the rich flavor, before setting his fork down and looking up at her.
“Alright,” he admits with a slow nod of approval.
“I’ll give credit where it’s due. You definitely know how to pick a meal.”
Chloe’s smile turns smug and satisfied, her dark eyes gleaming under the warm candlelight.
“Told you,” she says, picking up her own fork.
“I love food, so you can get a lot of recommendations from me.”
Chloe takes her bite, savoring it with a small, appreciative tilt of her head before placing her fork back down.
He tilts his head, a quiet, amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as his gaze stays locked on hers.
“Actually… quick question for you,” Callum says, ” Here we are tucked away in a booth, talking about our families and our jobs.” He gestures casually between the two of them with a slow flick of his wrist.
“Are we on a date right now, or what? We haven’t really named ‘this.'” Callum says as he motions to her and him with a back-and-forth motion.
Chloe blinks, a soft, breathless laugh slipping out before she can stop it.
A slow, captivating smile spreads across her lips as she rests her chin in her hand, her dark eyes glittering under the warm candle glow.
Chloe’s smile softens into something low, warm, and entirely genuine.
She doesn’t hesitate, taking her time to look him right in the eye, her dark gaze holding his with a quiet, magnetic stillness.
“It’s definitely a date, Callum,” she says, her voice dropping into a smooth, deliberate cadence.
She rests her elbows on the dark wood, leaning in just enough that the candlelight catches the golden flecks in her eyes.
“And if I’m being honest… I’d really like to keep going on them with you.”
Callum lets out a quiet, satisfied breath, the tension releasing as a slow, confident grin spreads across his face.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Chloe confirms, her lips curving upward, completely unbothered by how direct she’s being.
“You just feel real; it’s not every day I find someone who can keep up with me, doesn’t care about the red carpets, and especially someone who is both attractive and talented.”
Callum’s smirk softens into a rare, genuine smile, a faint warmth touching his chest at her straightforwardness.
He doesn’t shy away from her gaze, letting his eyes lock onto hers across the dim, flickering light of the candle.
“Attractive and talented, huh?” Callum chuckles softly, leaning his forearms back on the table.
“You’re not so bad yourself, Chloe. Though I have a feeling the ‘talented’ part for me is going to get put to the test every time you come watch a match now.”
The rest of the meal passes in an effortless blur of shared laughter, quiet jokes, and the easy rhythm of two people realizing they don’t have to put on a front for each other.
“So let me get this straight,” Chloe says, leaning back in the booth with a soft laugh, resting her hands around her cold glass of water.
“If you miss an open goal, your dad doesn’t just critique the shot; he critiques your posture?”
“Posture, footwork, balance, the lot,” Callum grins, shaking his head.
“He will sit there on the phone with me and explain what I should have done right; it’s like having a portable technical analyst.”
Chloe lets out a rich, genuine laugh, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
“I love him already. Honestly, you two sound like a dynamic duo.”
“We are, the best there is.” Callum chuckles, his gaze settling on her.
“You know, I barely use my free time. Between training at the club and recovery, I am usually out on a jog or doing something important.” Callum says, his voice low and steady.
He rests his hand casually on the table, close enough that their fingers almost touch.
“And right now… this feels pretty important.”
Chloe looks down at the space between their hands, a quiet, glowing smile spreading across her face.
The tension from earlier has settled into a comfortable, undeniable warmth, the unspoken feeling that this isn’t just a random night out anymore.
“I like the sound of that,” she says softly, her eyes flickering back up to his, full of quiet promise.
“As much as I think we should start slow, I know for certain that I like you, Callum. I think we could be really good at ‘this'” Chloe motions between them, mimicking his own movement from earlier.
“I don’t plan on giving you a reason to think otherwise,” Callum grins softly, holding her gaze as the waiter quietly clears their empty plates, leaving them in the warm, quiet sanctuary of their booth.
Callum looks down at his phone, glancing at the time displayed, “It’s quite late; you mentioned that you were dropped off here by your manager? Let me bring you to your hotel.”
Chloe looks down at her phone as it lights up with a quiet notification, checking the time before looking back up at him.
“It really is late,” she says, a slight, apologetic smile playing on her lips.
“And yeah, my manager dropped me off earlier. He had a few calls to take, so he left me to enjoy my night.”
“Well, I’m definitely not letting you hunt down a taxi in the middle of Leeds at this hour,” Callum says smoothly, sliding out of the leather booth and extending a hand to help her up.
“Let me take you back to your hotel. My car’s just around the corner.”
Chloe takes his hand, stepping out of the alcove with an easy, lingering warmth in her touch.
“Look at you, being a proper gentleman. Are you sure you don’t mind? I don’t want to keep your nan up waiting for you.”
“She’s probably fast asleep by now, or watching late-night reruns,” Callum chuckles, holding her coat for her as she slips it on.
Chloe glances up at him as she buttons her coat, her dark eyes sparkling under the dim hallway lights of the bistro.
“Lead the way, good sir.” She says, faking a British accent.
They settle the bill and step out of the quiet cellar bistro together into the cool Yorkshire night air.
Walking side-by-side down the quiet pavement, the city lights reflecting off the damp street, Callum guides her toward his car, the comfortable silence between them speaking volumes about how much has shifted in just a few short hours.
Callum steps ahead to open the passenger door for her, keeping a hand resting lightly on top of the frame.
Chloe smiles up at him as she slips inside, the low rumble of the engine coming to life a moment later as he climbs into the driver’s seat.
The drive through the quiet, amber-lit streets of Leeds is easy and unhurried.
The soft hum of the radio fills the cabin, punctuated by lazy, comfortable banter, debating the best spots for coffee, laughing about the culture shock of moving between LA and Yorkshire, and trading lighthearted stories about their respective schedules for the coming week.
When the car finally pulls up to the sleek, illuminated entrance of her hotel, Callum shifts into park and turns to face her.
“Well,” he says softly, resting his arm over the steering wheel, a warm, relaxed grin on his face.
“We made it. No paparazzi and a decent meal.”
“I’d call that an absolute success,” Chloe replies, her dark eyes glowing in the soft interior light.
She unbuckles her seatbelt and leans across the console.
Callum starts to speak, but Chloe leans in close, gently resting a hand on his shoulder as she presses a soft, lingering peck onto his cheek.
The light scent of her perfume settles in the warm air between them, making his heart drop a beat.
She pulls back slowly, her lips curved into a quiet, alluring smile as her fingers lightly trail off his shoulder.
“Give me a message when you get home, yeah?” she murmurs, her voice carrying a promise that leaves no doubt in his mind.
“Count on it,” Callum grins, watching her with a steady, quiet warmth.
Chloe opens her door, stepping out into the cool night air.
She gives him one last playful wave over her shoulder before turning and heading through the hotel’s glass doors, leaving Callum sitting in the quiet car with a slow, triumphant smile spreading across his face.
He waits until he sees her silhouette fully disappear, then he celebrates.
A massive, unrestrained grin spreads across his face.
He slaps both hands onto the leather steering wheel, lets out a low, triumphant laugh, and throws a quick, sharp fist pump into the air.
“Get in,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head with a breathless chuckle as he leans back into the headrest, staring up at the roof of the car.
He takes a second to let the whole night sink in.
He sits there for another moment, grinning like an idiot in the dim dashboard light, before shifting the car into drive and pulling away from the hotel, heading back home.
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A/N: I am terrible at writing slow burns for whatever reason.
I hate writing romance, but proofreading this chapter got me kicking my feet and shii.
Anyways, back to more action next chapter.