Always. (Cristiano Ronaldo)

-Epilogue-

I first met Cristiano Ronaldo in 2004. He was 19 and around 6 feet tall. He was well built with a head full of curly dark hair covered in gel. He looked very much like he does today and he had all the same confidence.

He had recently joined Manchester United and I hated football. I was from Manchester and had lived here all my life, just like my parents had, but despite living in a country mad about football, I had avoided the sport like the plague. It was an unconscious choice really, but this was the sport that had stolen my father and brother. My brother would hardly be in the house, every night, every weekend he would be gone playing football with his friends or watching live games or at his friends' house playing FIFA.

And my dad's life revolved around football too, he worked at Manchester United, he would be gone so often on trips with the team, to away games or European tournaments and even when he was home he spent countless hours watching football and learning set plays and tactics.

I hated the game for that, for taking my dad and brother from my life, so I refused to watch it for that one reason.

One day, when I was seventeen, my dad forced me, my brother and my sister to go to the training ground with him. I say forced because I didn't want to go, of course my brother and sister did, they both loved football unlike me.

"James, Sophia, Charlotte" My dad addressed each of his children individually, waving us over to him and one of the players. "This is Cristiano"

"Hi. I'm Sophia" I introduced myself to him, oblivious to who he was. We shook hands as he offered me a cocky smile.

"Charlotte, James. Introduce yourselves. Stop being rude!" I nudged them both harshly when I noticed they were both just staring at him in awe.

"It's ok" Cristiano said, smiling at us all. "I'm used to it" he shrugged arrogantly, making me roll my eyes.

"Go play then" I pushed them both towards the field that they were so excited to play on with the other players. Alex was 13, and Charlotte was 10 and they had been excitedly talking about playing on there for about two weeks.

"So I'll take James and Charlotte home with me. You two can go ahead and leave." My dad smiled at Cristiano and I.

"Huh. What?" I asked confusedly.

"I told Cristiano that you'd show him around Manchester" my dad said nonchalantly, as if I had nothing better to do with my time, which to be fair, I didn't.

"Um. No. I don't think so" I said rudely. "No offence Ronaldo, but I think a person like you will find your way around here by yourself quick enough"

"Whats that supposed to mean?" He seemed offended, that I could gather through his tone despite his thick accent.

"Great. You two will have so much fun, get going" my father pushed the two of us away from the pitch. "Don't have her out too late, Cristiano"

"So this is actually happening." I pulled my face in disgust as I walked side by side next to Cristiano down the narrow halls of the united changing rooms.

"It looks like it" Cristiano answered in monotone.

"Great" I mumbled sarcastically, to which Cristiano pulled his face.

"Keep this up, by the way, I like it" We had been quiet for a while before he broke the icy silence.

"Keep what up?" I didn't know whether it was a language barrier, or he was in fact talking nonsense.

"The way you treat me, and talk to me. It's different. I'm not used to it" He was so self assured it made me want to pull his hair and make him cry.

"Believe me. This is not some plan to stand out and make you like me." I turned my nose up at him and slurped on my milkshake for effect. "I genuinely don't like you."

He just laughed, which annoyed me, because I had wanted to offend him. "It's ok. You'll fall in love with me soon enough. They all do."

"Eww! You sleaze" I couldn't resist myself and punched him hard on the upper arm, which just got another wide smile from him. "You're too confident, it makes me want to wipe the smile of your face."

"What else don't you like?" My character assassination didn't seem to faze him. The opposite infact, like he enjoyed getting a rise out of people.

"Your attitude. Your car. Your job. Your accent." I counted the numberous flaws on my fingers. "And your hair... it has too much gel in it."

The last one finally seemed to affect him. "My hair is fine" He sounded confident, but he hesitantly touched the tips of his spiked hair, feeling the gel. He picked up a spoon from the table and looked into it, obnoxiously checking his hair. Saying "Yeah it's fine" more to himself than to me.

I scoffed at him, which he just ignored.

"You know. This whole 'I'm too sexy' thing you have going on isn't going to work for you either. You'll just attract all the wrong girls."

"What, girls like you?" He retaliated.

"No. The opposite in fact. Materialistic girls who have a bigger bra size than their IQ who want to use you for publicity for their modelling career" I air quoted over the word modelling, because you know, I was feeling over dramatic so why not.

"What are you? Christmas Future?" He tried to laugh it off, but he looked a little shocked by my words.

"Maybe Mr Scrooge. I'll guess only time will tell" I shrugged nonchalantly, talking with him was easier than I expected. My father always said I judged people too quickly.

"You'd like my sister you know. You should meet her." He smiled at me genuinely.

"Yeah? You'd like my brother too, he loves football."

"And you don't?" He guessed.

"22 over paid guys running around after a ball? What's not to love?" I answered sarcastically.

"I'll change your mind." Confidence again.

"You'll have to try very hard to change me, Ronaldo" I guess he made me feel a little confident too.

"I think your dad set us up." I liked the way he changed subject so suddenly, talking to him could never be boring.

"Why would he?" No dad would want their daughter to date a guy like him would they? I suppose he knew him a lot better than I did.

"Because he's worried you don't like him."

"Don't like him? what the... Of course I love him, he's my dad!"

"That's not that same" He smiled knowingly. "You love him. He thinks you don't so see enough of him to actually like him."

"Who are you, his confidant or something..."

Ronaldo carried on as if I hadn't spoken. "And so he enlisted me to get you to like football. He said I can be very convincing. So I have tickets for you this Saturday. Will you come, for your dad?"

"For my dad?" He nodded in confirmation. "Ok one match."

"One match, and after you'll come to the charity event as my date. And we will sit on your dad's table."

"Are you sure this is for him, and not for you?" I was skeptical of him, and of his intentions. "Aren't there a hundred girls who would go with you?"

"Probably." The answer would have been arrogant if it weren't true. "But I don't owe a favour to the father of any of those girls like I do with yours."

"Fine." A date with him wouldn't be so bad, I suppose. "For my father."

"Just saying, you'll need to be nice to me all night, otherwise your father will know you don't like football" He was joking, I think, it was hard to tell with him.

"Oh I'll be nice... Perfectly sweet and lovely and as air headed as your future girlfriends."

"Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise"

And that is why I blame my dad for setting in place the series of events that led to Cristiano Ronaldo breaking my heart.