Heads turned as she walked into the restaurant – chicly dressed, her slender figure stood out. She tossed her hair and walked over to her date, high heels clicking on the marble.

‘Hi! I’m Jean. You must be Giovanni?’, she said as she sat down in front of him. Dressed in black formals, he took her breath away – tall, dark and handsome. And those eyes…….

‘Nice place you’ve chosen. Very classy.’, she proffered and starting the conversation. ‘Yes! It was the only place that stays open till the game ends’, he replied as the LCD screen came alive with a direct transmission from Germany.

“The soccer final? Oh, the violence of it all. Not stylish at all!’ she said.

‘Style isn’t on the field. It’s off it. Right now, its only about the game’, his eyes riveted on the screen as the match kicked off.

‘The game? So that’s why we’re here, instead of a romantic sojourn together?’

‘Romance? I’ve only just met you!’, he exclaimed

‘Let’s just order shall we? Wine and Cheese?’, she suggested. He made a face and said,   ‘Cheese is for mice! Lets ask for a risotto. I’ve heard it’s very good here, and red wine!’ And without waiting for an answer, he placed the order. She sat there stunned, just as Italy scored their first goal.

‘How could you order without asking me?, she fumed

‘What was there to ask? I wanted to order for the lady.’, he justified.

‘Oh really? Unfortunately, I happen to be allergic to rice. So now, I’ll order something else!’, she stated as France equaled Italy’s score.

They ate in silence, till the penalties. As Italy won 5-3, she said, ‘Would you like to come home for some coffee?’.

He got up, ‘I don’t think you’d accept no as an answer’, and Italy lifted the cup in triumph.