PS: RMCF. An Isco Alarcón Fan Fic

Chapter 2

Cristina's P.O.V.

I looked up at whoever came running to my rescue. No. It can't be. I must be seeing things. All these rejections are making me loopy. I close my eyes for two seconds and look at him again. Now he's smiling at me. Isco Alarcón is smiling at me. I cannot keep my jaw from dropping as he asks again: "Are you all right?" I finally find my tongue and answer: "Yeah. Just a cramp. You're Isco." I just state that while I’m awkwardly pointing at him. Like it's not obvious.

He smiles and looks down. "Guilty." "I can't believe this. I have a friend who's been obsessed with you since you debuted for Valencia. Then she followed you to Málaga. But you signed for Madrid and she's a culé so she hates you now." I'm blabbering and he keeps staring at me, a curious look in his eye. "Do you hate me too?" "No. I'm a die-hard Madridista and you're a great player. Nothing to hate. I even have your jersey." I feel so stupid and embarrassed for babbling on and on like this but he laughs, making me melt. I've always had a thing for Isco. I keep it hidden but it's there. That he would be talking to me in some bench in Madrid? Never would've thought it possible. "Good." He says, seemingly glad. "Are you sure that thigh's ok?" "Yeah. I'll just try and..."

Isco's P.O.V.

She tries to get up from the bench but the thigh fails her, making her lose her balance and she falls back down on the bench. "Come on, I'll help you home." I offer her my arm and she's shy about taking it but knows she has no other option. I put my arm around her waist and she hers around my shoulders. She's limping a little as I try to support her weight with my body as much as possible. "So, you already know who I am but I don't know you." And I've been eager to for the past month, not finding the guts to approach you. “Well, my name is Cristina. As you have probably already noticed, I’m not from here. I’m from Puerto Rico. I’m studying at la Complutense and my dream is to become a sports journalist.”

We have a nice conversation about her personal details because I’m guessing she already knows a couple of things about me when she stops suddenly. "Ok. This is me. Thank you so much. I can't believe this is happening to me." She seems awed at the fact that I just walked her to her door. Thing is, I don't want to stop talking with her. She's so fun to talk to. She's just genuinely funny. "Can I walk you to your room?" "It's ok. I can take it from here. I bet you want to rest after training and all." She doesn't want to be a bother. She’s so shy."It's ok. Really. I just want to make sure you get to your room all right and put some ice on that." "Ok. Thank you."

She opens the door and there are two huge flights of stairs. I look up and whistle loudly: "Woah. How did you think you were going to get up those by yourself?" "Holding on to the handrail, I guess." She shrugs. I can tell she's used to doing things alone and not letting anyone help her. We start up the stairs one by one but her thigh seems to be getting worse. I bend my knees and take her petite body in my arms. She opens her eyes really wide. "What are you doing?" She looks as if she's seen a ghost. "Taking you to your room, what does it look like?" 

Cristina's P.O.V.

I can't believe this is happening. It's the sentence that keeps popping up in my head ever since Isco sat down on that bench. He is now carrying me up to my room in his arms. We finally reach my door and he sets me down so I can open it. "I'm sorry, there's not much space here. It's really small but make yourself at home." There is very little space in this room for myself as it is. I leave the door open and he sits in my bed. "It's ok. I'm the intruder here." He laughs. His laugh is so carefree. So contagious. I sit next to him on the bed feeling so weird about the cramped up space. "So, you got some ice in here?" "Yeah. I have one of those ice packs. It's in the mini-fridge." I make a move to go get it but he pushes me back down.

He gets it and tells me to prop myself up on the wall and stretch out my legs on the bed. I do what he says as he sits on the bed and places the ice-pack on my thigh. I know he'd done what he'd come here to do but I didn't want him to leave. I'd been feeling so alone here, especially after all those rejections. His carefree manner would definitely lift my spirits. Also, the fact that he was one of my favorite players ever.  I picked up the conversation where we'd left off and we were talking about each other's lives. I knew he had a girlfriend and he told me about how she'd just come to visit but that she's from Málaga and still lives there so it's hard. I confess that I've only had one boyfriend and it didn't go very well. After a while, I build up the courage to ask: "How did you get to me so fast? You know, when I cramped up." 

Isco's P.O.V.

She got me. I had no choice but to tell her. "Don't take this the wrong way but I've sort of seen you jog by every day from a sidewalk café on the other side of the street." "You stalker." She says, a joking tone to her voice. She shoves me playfully and I laugh. She joins in and I'm just noticing both out laughs are so genuine. "To complete my stalking abilities, I've noticed you look a bit down today." "Wow. You're very observant. Um, yeah. I was sort of rejected by a couple of sports newspapers today and I'm sort of deflated." "Really?" I consider it for a while and decide I want to help her.

"Would you consider working at the club?" She looks up at me, looking like she'd seen a ghost for the second time today. "What? That's like my dream. Would you put in a good word for me?" "It seems to me like you know what you're talking about, unlike a lot of women sports journalists. Sara." I cough and she laughs. "So I've heard." she says, in between chuckles. We've been talking for some three hours and she really knows a lot about football. I'd done interviews with a lot of the journalists in RMTV and they didn't know half of what she knew. Even the men. "Yeah. I'd put my hand in the fire for you. I'll do everything in my power." “But why? You barely know me.” “I know. But I trust you.” I confess, taking her hand in a friendly way. "Thank you so much. I can't actually describe how much this means to me. Most of all, coming from your mouth." She smiles at me and I can tell we'll become good friends.