No reviews. :-( But that's to be expected. It's alright! I know not many people are fans of Cristiano, or even soccer really. This story is really mostly just for myself, as I'd love to get Ronaldo alone with me… hehe.
Anyway! Just thought I'd share this story with you for kicks. :-) I hope you enjoy it as much as I have been! By the way, in the story I refer to soccer as "football" a lot- so don't get confused!
The doorbell to my apartment rung swiftly at 7:02 pm. Damn, this boy was practically operating on military time. I glanced at myself one last time in the mirror, hoping that the black halter dress was good enough for a famous football (soccer) star. I had let down my dirty blonde/brown hair so it hung loosely around my shoulders, curling softly towards the ends. I believe that I looked decent.
I opened the door, and saw Cristiano smiling at me brilliantly in a pair of black slacks and loose Polo shirt, carrying a bouquet of roses. I couldn't help but feel a broad smile widen across my face as I took the flowers from him.
"You look stunning." He complimented, giving me a swift kiss on the cheek.
I felt my face turning red, and shrugged. "You don't look too shabby yourself." I teased, widening the door so he could come in.
"Well, you know, I do the best that I can." He joked, while glancing around my apartment. I studied his face, knowing what he must be thinking.
"I know it's kinda small, but I've got a few million dollar mansions all around the U.S., you know, this is just my humble residing place while I wait to get picked up for a national team."
Cristiano blinked at me for a second, before catching on to my joke and grinning, "It seems perfect to me; nice and cozy. Plus, mansions are overrated anyway."
I laughed, while filling the vase with water and setting the beautiful roses in it. "Right, 'cause who doesn't need some couple-thousand square footage of room with a pool in the back?"
Cristiano mocked offense, "Ms. Jordan, are you insinuating that my pool is worthless?"
I smirked, "Not worthless, just expensive. And is there really a need to have a huge 'R' right in the middle of it?"
"It's just for my name!" He defended, looking almost insulted.
I laughed, "Yes, because no one could possibly know that the HUGE mansion in Portugal belongs to a famous football star named Cristiano Ronaldo."
"Well it wasn't just for- Wait," Cristiano cut off suddenly, and raised an eyebrow at me, "How do you know my pool has an 'R' in it?"
Ah shit, now he'd know I'd been stalking him. Way to start off the night smoothly, Jordan. I rapidly changed the subject so I wouldn't have to respond.
"So now that the roses have been put away, how bout you say we head out to dinner?"
Cristiano studied me for a few moments, and said, "Don't think I'm not going to ask you about the R story later."
With that, he held out his arm, I laughed softly and linked mine through it as we headed towards the mystery restaurant.
The car ride was quiet; but a peaceful quiet, and when we got to the restaurant, I found myself being ordered for by Cristiano.
"You know," I began, after taking a sip of my water, "It's not polite to order for a girl. It just means your showing off."
Cristiano tilted his head at me, "I thought girls loved that."
"But I'm not most girls, remember?" I responded, flashing him a smile. "Especially since this girl doesn't like seafood, and you just ordered her salmon."
"Shit." I heard Cristiano mumble.
I laughed, enjoying watching him squirm. You'd think the smooth talker would be used to taking a girl out on a date- apparently not.
"Don't worry about it, I already changed my order to a cheeseburger."
I saw a flash of surprise cross Cristiano's face. "A cheeseburger?" He asked, questioning me.
I nodded, "Yes, Cristiano, a cheeseburger. They're yummy and come with fries and they make me happy." Cristiano shook his head, smiling. "What?" I asked, instantly becoming paranoid.
"Nothing," He said, still smiling, "you're just incredibly difficult to figure out."
I shrugged, "There's nothing really to figure out; what you see is what you get."
"I like what I'm seeing so far." Cristiano said, and I noticed the way his voice switched from casual to flirty. I rolled my eyes, unimpressed. Cristiano caught on quickly and leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. "You're not falling for any of this, are you?"
I stared into his sultry brown eyes, "What is there to fall for?" I asked, completely honest.
"I'm talking about the me being nice, going out to dinner with you, bringing you roses, etc. You're not buying it, are you?"
"There's nothing to "buy" Cristiano, you're either a nice guy or you're not. It's pretty simple."
"And so far you think that I'm…?"
I contemplated for a moment. "I think that you're sweet, but you're used to getting what you want."
"Is that a bad thing?" He asked, still looking completely relaxed.
"I guess not. But you can't have everything."
He sat up in his chair, and leaned forward so he was a foot from my face, and said barely above a whisper, "You want to make a bet out of that?"
My heart was pounding, but I wasn't going to back down.
"What's the bet?" I asked.
"I'm going to be here for the next three days. In those three days, you can't kiss or touch me."
I scoffed, barely being able to keep back my laughter, "What makes you think I want to kiss you? Or touch you, for that matter? If I remember correctly, you're the one constantly touching or kissing me."
Cristiano smirked at me, "Then this shouldn't be a problem."
I considered, twirling a strand of hair between my fingers before saying, "And what's in it for me?"
"Easy." He said, grinning, "You get Portugal."
I furrowed my brows for a moment, "So you're saying, that if I can…" I coughed back a laugh, "Keep my lips and hands to myself, I get to go to Portugal with my team? I thought I was automatically going with them?"
It was Cristiano's turn to roll his eyes, "No, Jordan, please try to keep up. If you keep all your body parts to yourself, then you get box seats to every one of Portugal's games in the World Cup. And one other team of your liking, the United States, I'm guessing, since you're from here."
I gaped at him. All of that just for not kissing and/or touching him for three days? Piece of freaking cake. Bring it on!
"Fine; but what happens if you touch or kiss me?"
Cristiano grinned, "Don't worry about me, Jord."
I studying him with narrowed eyes for a second before finally saying, "First, don't call me Jord. And second, I am worrying about you because something tells me you'll cheat."
Cristiano laughed, "I'll drop 'Jord' if you drop 'Ron'. And I wouldn't dare cheat! I'm a footballer, Jordan! Have a little more faith."
"I have absolutely zero faith, Ronaldo." I deadpanned, knowing he would find some sort of loophole in this bet. "So what do you want if you win?"
Cristiano smirked, "That's simple, nena." He emphasized on calling me "baby" in Spanish. It took every ounce of restrain in my body to not roll my eyes. "You have to admit that you were wrong, and that I'm not a snobby footballer."
"That's it?" I asked, thinking it was rather lame. I was good at BSing apologies; this was going to be a walk in the park.
"And," He continued, as if I hadn't even spoken, "You have to tell me about the R story, and every single fact you know about me, since it's clear you've done your research." He winked at me, and I glared.
Fuck. He had caught me. I knew practically everything about him; I'd watched all of his interviews on YouTube, followed him on Twitter, became a fan of his on Facebook, watched a documentary on him for several hours (which was in Portuguese, by the way), and…well, you get the point. If I lost this bet, my entire dignity went out the window.
"So, if you don't touch or kiss me for the next three days that I'm here, you get Portugal and the U.S. during the World Cup. If I keep my hands and lips to myself for the next three days, then I get the R story, an apology, and every fact you know about me." He paused for a moment, seeming satisfied with himself. "Do we have an agreement?" He finally asked, smirking at me and holding out his hand.
I glanced from his hand, to his face, and then back at his hand. "Oh no, you're not winning that easily. I'm not shaking your hand."
Cristiano rolled his eyes, "God you're suspicious. We made a bet, Jordan, we have to shake on it."
I hesitated, before finally extending my hand to reach his in a firm shake. "Agreed." I said. The second our hands touched, I felt sparks surging through my fingers and tingling through my arm. Cristiano simply smiled, and raised my hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of my hand.
It felt like my skin was on fire.
"Something wrong?" He asked, noticing my widened eyes while I watched him manipulate my knuckles with his lips.
"Absolutely nothing." I responded, ignoring the butterflies floating around in my stomach obnoxiously. After a few more seconds of torture, I annoyingly pointed out, "You know, I'm going to need that hand back if I ever want to hold those Portugal and U.S. box tickets."
Cristiano laughed, allowing me to slip my hand from his soft grip, "You're awfully cocky for someone who seems to be put off by just a simple handshake."
I felt my face getting red and glared at him, "I wasn't put off," I snapped, leaning back into my chair as to get his intoxicating scent out of my nose. Why the hell hadn't I noticed he smelled good before?
"Oh so you mean you were put on," He corrected, winking at me.
Oh god, I was going to die before this bet had even started.
I chose to ignore him, "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. I'm fine, you just worry about yourself."
Cristiano laughed, "I've got nothing to lose, nena."
And so began the three long days of absolute hell.
Hehehe, I thought a bet would be an interesting little throw in there, since Jordan seems to think she's so much better than Cristiano. We'll see how this all plays out ;-) Reviews are loved! Though to be honest, I'm sure I'll continue to write even without them.
