I am aware that most of you aren't going to be happy with this update, seeing as how you were probably thinking it was another chapter to TEWOTB. My apologies, but that story is close to dead. I'm finding no inspiration for it whatsoever.

However, thanks to the Fifa World Cup and my obsession with a certain Portuguese soccer player, this storyline popped into my head. And I'm determined to give it a shot.

So, to the returned readers, bless you for reading this, and thanks for the support. It is much appreciated.

And to the newcomers- enjoy!

"That looks painful."

I heard an unfamiliar, heavy accented voice say as they entered the training room. I was wrapping ice around my injured ankle. I shrugged, not bothering to look up, thinking it was just another member of the staff I had never met before.

"It looks worse than it feels." I replied, carefully tearing the pre-wrap before setting it down on the floor.

"Well, I'm impressed," He stated, "If that would have been me, I would have had my physio massaging me for hours while I cried like a baby. What'd you do to it, anyway?"

I chuckled before answering, "It's just a minor sprain, no big deal. Rolled it while I was trying to do a header over my teammate for a goal."

"So you play soccer?" He asked me, almost surprised.

I laughed, glancing around myself in my sweaty practice jersey, and both my shin guards on the floor. I pointed to them, before looking up at the man I had been talking to for the past few moments. "I guess those weren't a dead give-away?"

I stopped in my tracks when my eyes landed on his face. I did a double take. No, scratch that, more of a quadruple-take before almost falling off the bench.

"Are you…? You're…" I began, mumbling and stuttering all over the place like an idiot, staring at him with my eyes wide.

The man smirked at me, and raised an eyebrow. "I am…?"

There was absolutely no way he was here. Right now. In my tiny little city of Salt Lake, in the most boring state in the United States: Utah.

I shook my head, thinking there must be a mistake. I wasn't going to accuse this man in front of me of being one of the best strikers in the world if it wasn't really him. I held back my accusation, and shook my head.

"Never mind," I said, tending back to my ankle although it was already wrapped. I glanced up to see him still standing there, an amused expression on his face. "Uhm…" I was beginning to feel flustered. "Is there something I can help you with?" I asked politely, trying not to come off as rude.

He flashed me a mesmerizing smile, "I'm actually looking for your coach, Dennis Burrows?"

I nodded, right; of course he needed to see my coach. Why else would some adorably sexy, hot guy be standing in my training room?

"He should be in the weight room," I replied, as I stood up from my position on the bench and tucked away the pre-wrap. "I can take you there if you'd like." I offered, not knowing why all of a sudden I wanted to be so helpful.

He shook his head, "No need," He began, and gestured to my ankle, "I don't want to screw that up anymore than it already is. I'm sure I can find my way around. Thank you though, …?" He looked into my eyes, searching for a name.

I swear I only stared back into his eyes for a couple of seconds. When he repeated his question, however, I realized it must have been several minutes. What the hell was wrong with me?

"Uhh, right. My name." I chuckled awkwardly, "Jordan."

"Jordan." The way he repeated my name made it sound like it was the most heavenly name on earth; it rolled off his tongue perfectly. He reached his hand out for a shake, and I obliged easily. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Jordan."

I was just about to ask for his name, when he disappeared down the hall to try to find my Coach.

"Dammnit!" I swore (more to myself than at anyone in particular). "Why do you have to be so incredibly awkward, Jordan? He's just a guy." I mumbled to myself, though I heard in the back of my mind my conscious telling me Yes, but an extremely attractive, sexy guy; who obviously plays soccer since he talked about his physio and getting it massaged. Could he really be…?

My thoughts were interrupted by some booming laughter coming down the hall. I glanced up to see my Coach with his hand on the man's shoulder, as they seemed to be laughing about something. I tried not to stare while I gathered my things from the floor.

"Jordan!" My coach said to me excitedly, always happy to me see me.

"Hey, Coach." I replied, smiling back.

"I don't believe you've met our hero, have you?" My Coach, Dennis, asked me.

I looked at him confused. Hero…? He seemed to answer my silent question for me.

"Jordan, this is Cristiano Ronaldo. He plays for Real Madrid and will be…."

Whatever more he said about the man standing in front of me went in one ear and out the other. I was in the presence of Cristiano Ronaldo, THE soccer superstar, THE scorer of the goal in overtime against England, which took Portugal to the semi-finals in the Fifa World Cup in a penalty shoot-out. I thought I was going to die.

"…and so we've been selected to go to Portugal to watch them train and use some of their facilities!" I finally tuned back in to hear my Coach finish off whatever 10-minute long introduction of Ronaldo. I was speechless.

"It's okay, you don't have to say anything. I know I'm not all that impressive." He joked, making my Coach laugh.

Gah, snap out of it, Jordan! I yelled to myself internally, and managed to pull off a forced laugh.

"No no, it's not that, it's just…" I began, not even knowing what to say.

"It's just that she's been worshiping you ever since you began playing for Manchester United." I heard one of my teammates, Megan; speak up from across the training room. I shot her a death glare while Cristiano laughed and said,

"That's surprising, considering that when I walked in here she had no idea who I was."

"That's not true!" I defended myself, "I just didn't want to be wrong. Imagine how awkward that would have been."

"Right." He drew out the word, before winking at me.

I swear you guys, my heart almost stopped.

"Anyways," my Coach continued on, ignoring Megan's comment altogether, "We should probably let you go. I'm sure you have a lot of training to do with the World Cup coming up soon."

Cristiano shrugged nonchalantly, "I actually thought I would just hang out in Utah for a few days. Get some relax time in before heading back home."

"Why on earth would you want to stay and relax here?" I blurted out, saying it before I could stop myself. Damnit, Jordan! Think before you speak.

Cristiano raised an eyebrow, "Why wouldn't I? There's peace here. No paparazzi, plenty of me time."

"'Me' time?" I asked, blinking at him with a scrutinized face, "What are you going to do, go get a mani and a pedi?"

Coach shot me a threatening look as if to say Shut your mouth and be nice. But Crisitiano seemed to be up for the challenge.

"And if I was, would you join me?" Oh, smooth talker. I shrugged,

"Nah I think I'll pass. Wouldn't want to ruin my cleats." I smirked at him while picking up said cleats form the floor. Coach Dennis looked like he wanted to kill me. What was I doing so wrong? He challenged me, it's not my fault I had sparring wit.

Cristiano didn't seem like he was going to think up anything anytime fast, so I saved him the trouble.

"Well it was nice meeting you, Mr. Ronaldo." I smiled sweetly at him, before turning to Dennis, "Later, Coach."

"Good practice today, Jord." He replied.

As I was walking out of the stadium/practice field, (I like to call it a stadium because it makes me feel more professional. In reality it's just a soccer field with a few bleachers surrounding it.) I briefly heard my coach apologizing for my behavior and chuckling. I had no idea what had gotten into me. I had just met possibly the most hottest, decorated, male international soccer player in the world, and I had just played him hot and cold. Why? I have absolutely no idea.

As I was chucking my cleats into the backseat of my Toyota Prius (thank you, parents, for allowing me to save the planet/O-zone) I heard running footsteps towards me and glanced behind me to see whom it was.

Holy shit it was Ronaldo. Why was he jogging up to me? What did he want? Was he pissed I had shut him down? Was he going to retract the offer to let me go to Portugal? Did he hate me?

When he reached me, however, my brain stopped with the unending questions, and I said the first thing that came to mind, "If you're here for my autograph, I'm afraid I'm suuuuper busy right now."

Why the fuck did I just say that? I felt like dying.

But for some magical reason instead of getting offended, Cristiano just shook his head, erupting in laughter, "You've got a fiery sense of wit. Gosto muito."

I stared at him for a moment. That definitely wasn't English. Oh god, the sexy Portuguese soccer God was speaking to me in Portuguese.

"Yeah…unfortunately I don't speak Portuguese." I began, "However, if Spanish over the past 17 years of my life have taught me anything, it's that "gusto" means like, so…" I thought for a moment, pondering, "You like it?" I guessed, having no idea if that was right.

Cristiano chuckled, nodding, "I'm impressed. Most girls wouldn't have had any clue what I said."

"Well I'm not 'most girls'." I shot back at him, raising my eyebrows.

"That is definitely true. Claro que si."

God his Portuguese was sexy. What did I do right in my lifetime to deserve this man?

There was silence between the two of us, and I bit my lip awkwardly, "So…" I began, "Why'd you stalk me to my car?

"Stalk?" He asked, seeming confused.

Ah, he didn't know what the word meant. Adorable. "Follow," I clarified, "Why'd you follow me to my car?"

A light bulb seemed to go off in his head, "Right. Well, I followed you to give you a different offer from the Pedicure."

I tilted my head to the side, "I'm listening."

"Venha jantar comigo esta noite." He replied.

I stared at him blankly, "I must not have made myself clear…I don't speak Portuguese, therefore I have absolutely no clue what you just said to me."

"Well that's too bad," He said, though his facial expression didn't look sad at all, "I guess that means I'll be all alone tonight."

I stopped mid thought-process and gaped at him. Was he asking me out?

"Are you asking me out?" I asked him out loud, shell-shocked.

"É una possibilidade. It's a possibility," He repeated with a smirk.

This whole English-Portuguese language-switching thing was tripping me out.

"If you want me to be impressed, Ron," I emphasized the nickname I had heard many of his teammates call him before on the Manchester team on TV, "I suggest you step up your game. Because so far it seems like you're just trying to get me confused with lots of Portuguese."

He shrugged, "Or I'm just messing with your head while secretly working on your heart." He gave me that heart-stopping wink again.

I stared at him blankly, and I tried to tell myself that he was an international superhero, a paparazzi attention-whore, and that he had probably said this many times before to several other women.

And yet, he was just so damn charming…

I must've been staring at him like that for quite some time because he eventually began laughing. "Relax, Jordan. I'm just trying to mess with you. Sinto muito, I'm sorry.
I breathed out a sigh of relief, "But I'm still leaving that offer for dinner up for grabs."

I bit my lip, as if I was contemplating the offer. Oh, who was I kidding? Why the hell wouldn't I want to go to dinner with Crisitano Ronaldo?

"If you don't speak up soon, I'm afraid I'm going to have some other takers," He teased, referring to the wad of girls, aka my team, staring at us while giggling and laughing from the outside of the stadium.

"Done." I said automatically, already disgusted at the thought of one of my teammates going out to dinner with Cristiano.

"Huh?" He said, not understanding.

"I'll go out to dinner with you." I clarified, "Tonight."

Cristiano seemed pleased, "Perfeito. I'll pick you up at 7, then." He leaned forward and kissed my cheek, before walking off to his BMW M6 convertible. How he even knew where I lived was a mystery to me, but hell I'd take it anyway.

I couldn't help but watch the way his butt moved from beneath his jeans…

"JORDAN!" I heard practically 20-some girls scream my name and gallop towards me as Cristiano zoomed off.

"Oh my god, what did he say to you?" Someone breathed, looking star struck.

"I can't believe he kissed your cheek!" Megan said, positively beaming.

"He is SO sexy." I heard Amanda say, sighing blissfully.

I laughed, ignoring them all, "It was nothing, he was just checking up to see if my ankle was okay." I don't know why I lied, I felt like I had to. Most of these girls deserved to be on this team 100,000 times more than I did. Why did I get the super privilege of going out with Cristiano?

"Oh come off it," Another teammate, Rebecca said, "There's no way he kissed your cheek when you told him your ankle was healing just fine!"

"Yeah!" Several other people began agreeing.

I turned helplessly to my best friend Megan, (yes, the one who had humiliated me in front of Cristiano earlier today in the training room) for help. She caught on and quickly made up a string of lies- she was good at that.

"I bet kissing people on the cheek is just a Portuguese thing," Megan said, shrugging, "He's a striker; Jordy's a striker. Obviously he's had to deal with ankle injuries before, he was probably just checking up to make sure she was alright."

The rest of my team looked skeptical, but eventually they gave up hounding me and believed Megan's story. I let out a sigh of relief when they all left, leaving me alone with Megan. She quickly turned towards me, grinning, "Okay now what did he really say?" She asked, practically bouncing up and down.

I rolled my eyes, but said in a low voice so no one could hear me, "He asked me out to dinner."

"He WHAT?" Megan shrieked, eyes wide and in shock. "When?"

"Megan!" I hissed, pulling her into my car so none of the girls would get more suspicious. "Jesus, try not to tell the entire team! There's a reason I'm only telling you. And he asked me out for tonight."

"Ohmygod, Jordy, this is a like a dream come true for you! Cristiano Ronaldo is like…your all-time HERO."

"Thanks, Megs, I had no idea that's how I felt about him." I replied sarcastically, rolling my eyes again. "It's just dinner, I bet he's just looking for some."

"I don't think he's that sorta guy…" Megan disagreed.

I scoffed, "What, because you know him so well? He went out with Kim Kardashian for Christ's sake, who could I even come close to her?"

Megan shrugged, "Maybe that's what he's looking for right now. Maybe he wants ordinary."

Ordinary? "Gee thanks, Meg." I replied, sighing.

"Look," She began, her tone forcing me to make eye contact with her, "Ordinary is a good thing. These soccer studs and high-profile players? They get bored of all the glamour and fake girls. So when he comes here, in the middle of boring-town, expecting nothing but yet another publicity pleaser while he talks to just another lucky male coach, you can imagine his surprise when he finds good ole you- a gorgeous but not dimwitted, sexy girl who also happens to play soccer. You're like his dream girl."

I laughed, not wanting to get ahead of myself or get my hopes up, "Yeah me and a few million other girls in America."

"And yet he asked you to go out to dinner tonight." Megan pointed out. She did have a valid point there… "Chew on that while you get ready, and call me the SECOND the date is over. And I mean it. I want hardcore deets and updates."

I shook my head, "It's not a date, but yes, I will call you after."

"Good," Megan replied happily, looking satisfied. She began to climb out of my car and turned to me before she left, "Kill it tonight, Jord, I'm countin' on you."

I smiled and nodded, "Oh, Megan?" I asked, just as she was about to shut the door, "Please don't tell any of the rest of the girls, I don't want this to be a big deal when it's not."

She nodded her head and smiled at me, "My lips are sealed, BFF."

"Thanks." I replied, smiling after she shut the door.

I closed by eyes with both my hands on the steering wheel and drew in a deep breath; I now had about 3 hours to look stunning before my date with one Cristiano Ronaldo.

To say I was nervous would be a dramatic understatement.

Hate it? Love it? Think I should quit? Thoughts & comments are appreciated.