Until He Told Me He Loves Me - HITTER
Author: kitty69lover
Rating: R
Category: drama
Characters: Ronaldo, Michael Carrick, oters {see tags}
Length: hitter
Originally posted on: 07.03.2009
Summary: he loves her, but she doesn't.
Disclaimer: I do not own Cristiano Ronaldo or his family, or any of the other footballers mentioned in my story. This is just fiction, not the reality.
Authors Notes: i still have no idea if how i ended it is relevant to the story line. italics = flashback
He was my best mate, my best friend, the shoulder to cry on when things didn't go my way, the one to take me on an unforgettable night on the town when I most needed it, he was everything I wanted in a friend, until he told me he loves me.
We were in a private room at our favourite club, just me and him catching up on things, when he suddenly stood up and looked at me seriously.
'I love you.'
Just like that. He looked at me, with his usual devious smile.
'Why, Cristiano Ronaldo, you are far too much in love with yourself to love anyone else!' I giggled my response.
To which he stormed out of the room, banging the door loudly. I was, naturally, quite shocked, and felt like I may have made a mistake. I went out of the booth into the hall, to see Michael Carrick coming towards me.
'Hey Lisa. Was that Cristiano leaving like a fury?'
'Yeah...the very one.'
He made a face. I looked quizzically at him.
'Did something happen?' he finally asked.
'Uhm, define 'something'?
'Come on Lisa. He looked upset, what did you tell him?'
'Well, he told me he loves me and I replied with a joke!' I blurted out.
'Oh, that's bad. That's so bad Lisa!' Michael looked truly troubled.
'What. What's going on?' I was pretty much speechless.
I grabbed him by the arm and towed him into the room. He followed and sat down on one of the sofas, indicating me to do the same. So I sat down.
'He really is in love with you.'
'OH. OH MY.' I was indeed shocked, as I was completely unaware of this. 'He told you?' my voice a mere squeak.
'It's been obvious for quite a while. 6 months? Yeah, that's when Wayne first thought there could be something...and 3 months ago, we asked him.'
'I see. I never caught up?.'
'So much about feminine intuition!' he rolled his eyes at me. 'Anyway, 3 weeks ago, he decided he'll tell you, well, more like Wayne and Paul threatened they will if he doesn't. The deadline was today.'
I was stunned, the United locker room knew more about his feelings for me than my very self. I felt stupid, for the first time in my life, truly stupid.
'I thought it was a joke. We have lots of in jokes between us that anyone else hearing might think we're lovers...'
'Well, it's not.'
'I know. Now I know.'
I hid my face in my hands. What was I going to do, what I had said to him was incredibly cruel, since he was actually declaring his sentiments to me.
'So, do you love him? I mean, love him back.' he added seeing that I'm looking lost at him.
'No. I don't.' I said, an ounce of regret in my voice.
'Wow, I lost the bet, can't believe you don't.'
'Bet?'
'Yeah, Ryan and Nani bet that you don't, I was so sure you do, that you're just hiding...you see...in male - female best friends relations, it's common for the girl to fall, first, I mean...'
'Well, I'm sorry I don't fit the stereotype...' I managed a small laugh.
He didn't laugh back, he actually seemed concerned, so I began to worry as well.
'So, tell me, Mr. expert in male - female best friends relations, what do I do now? How do I fix this?' I whined.
'Well, if you loved him, the solution would've been easy to find. But you don't. So I'm sorry, but I have no idea either.'
'I'll have to talk to him...' I ventured.
?Yeah, and the sooner the better.'
He got up, nodded at me once more and left. I pulled out my phone and pressed 7, his speed dial number. It rang 15 times before it went to voice mail. And I panicked and ended the call.
I tried again, counting the rings, ending the call before it went to the evil voice mail. I didn't want to talk to a machine, to have my shaky words registered for all eternity. So I began to wait between calls, 3 or 4 minutes, and I only gave up after about 10 tries.
I was becoming angry, sure, he had the right to close himself up, but love or not, I was still his best friend, so his refusal to pick up was driving me off the walls. I decided to send him a text message.
'we need 2 talk. L' Simple, to the point, no innuendos, no 'love' slyly creeping in the body of the message. Yet, my hand was shaking as I was typing the letters and I felt incredibly relieved when I pressed sent.
I decided to give him 30 minutes to reply. Severe action will follow if he remained silent. To alleviate my wrecked nerves, because I was, frankly, beginning to panic, I went at the bar and had a Manhattan. I sipped the drink checking out the dancing bodies, glancing at my watch and pulling my phone to check for messages every five minutes.
It was precisely 30 minutes later when I finally climbed down the stool and walked towards the exit. My heart, for some unknown reason, was drumming in my chest. I had no idea what I'll do when I am finally face to face with him, I didn't imagine any speech that would let him down easy.
I passed by one of the tables where the United crew celebrated the Champions' League victory on my way out and a few waved at me, with Michael and Ryan nodding slightly. It made me feel even more nervous, knowing that now I couldn't afford to chicken out and go home instead of his place.
I got in a taxi. I told the driver the address. And instead of focusing on preparing a speech, or at least an opening line, my thoughts wandered back to the first time we met.
As one of the projects of my PR class, we had to organize a charity event. We had to raise a certain sum and invite several celebrities. And when I called United, they told me they might send Cristiano. His name was good enough to get us some other interesting names, so it all worked perfectly.
I talked a little with him when he first arrived, then went by my business. I was surprised to see him stay on a bit longer after most of the guests had left and we ended up having quite an interesting conversation.
So I was not surprised when he asked me to drop by his party the next week. I was about to object, telling him I have a boyfriend, when he told me that bringing a date is not optional, it's mandatory. After he left, I felt like such an idiot for assuming that he, of all people, would ask me out.
We were both in relations and we became friends because we really liked each other's company and we had quite a number of things in common. My relation ended first, but he did not react, in fact, I was still single when he parted ways with that girl of his and he just moved on to another one of those model like women he seemed to like so much.
But we were close. And I never denied he's a hot man. As a red blooded woman, I acknowledged his looks. I've seen him naked. I've heard him and many of his 'dates' through the rather thin walls, and I knew very well what he could offer, sexually speaking.
And yes, had he not been a good friend, and later, my best friend, I would have not hesitated to shag him. An ounce of desire was always present, it's impossible to not be a little bit turned on with Cristiano around, but I always stifled that for the sake of our friendship.
During my introspection, I realised I actually cared for this gorgeous man and wanted to sleep with him, yet I did not love him. I felt it was very strange, indeed, but I had never been surer of this. I was worried for him, but it was not a lover's worry. It was more a maternal, or sisterly worry. Yet, if ever offered, I wouldn't have hesitated to sleep with him.
I reached the mansion gates. I paid the taxi and once it was out of sight, I punched in the 10 digit code and got in. I walked up to the house, uneasiness taking over me. I realised there's a few options.
a. He wasn't in, he was somewhere in a bar, getting trashed, after what I have said and done. Or b. he was out on the prowl, probably shagging some poor lucky bird by now. I glanced at my watch, it was nearly 3 o'clock. He could very well be in, again, shagging some chick, or wallowing in self pity in a corner.
I still had to check the house, I couldn't have come so far to give up. If he was in, again, several options were possible. The maid could open, then I'd be sure of getting in the house. Or, he could open, and should that happen...I was sure I might have the door close on me within a second.
I gulped violently and rang the doorbell. I waited, heart going in my throat, the tension almost strangling me. I still had no idea what I should say, and why I was this nervous. I didn't love him. I suddenly clutched the dress above my heart, recalling this little incident.
It was one summer ago, we were tanning on deck chairs by the pool, at his place. It was just him and I, and the sun was warming our skin. His hand was on my arm, tracing invisible patterns, from wrist to elbow, up and down, it was relaxing to be honest. We used to touch each other like that, small, apparently tender gestures, that everyone seeing would've taken for what they certainly weren't. Well, at least in my opinion.
"If you could only see how beautiful you look right now..." he had suddenly said, he must've looked at me for some time.
"Well, why don't you fetch me a mirror then." I remember replying jokingly.
Now I recall something that should've struck me. His fingers on my arm stopped. Just for a few seconds, resuming their run up and down almost immediately. A few minutes later, I got up and dove into the pool, and I never looked deeper into the incident. Would it have changed anything if I had realised what it meant? No, I don't think so.
Gosh, I had been so so blind, I tried to recall any similar incidents, when he had tried to let me know, but the door suddenly opened, waking me from my reverie.
He gave me one single look before shutting the door on me. But I was not going to stand for that, I needed to make things clear with him, fast. So I pushed the door open and rushed inside.
'Cristiano?' I asked cautiously.
The house was huge, I didn't want to play hide and seek with him. I crossed the hallway into one of the main rooms, the light was on but he wasn't there.
'Cristiano!' I yelled, this time.
Of course, there was no answer. I crossed a few more rooms, searching for him, calling his name a few times before it hit me that there's only one place Cristiano would go and feel safe, his domain, his territory, the bedroom.
So I climbed the 2 flights of stairs and tip toed down the dark hall and, without knocking, I turned the door knob and went in.
He had fancy lights that he could dim and brighten as he chose and the lighting was tavern like in the room when I entered. He was sitting in an armchair, apparently deep in thought.
He knew I was in the room but didn't move one inch.
'Cristiano? I'm sorry.'
He didn't reply. I knew I had to carry on, that despite his face being in the shadows, he was listening.
'I didn't mean to say that, it was just a joke.'
'Oh.' he suddenly said. 'So can you give me a proper reply then?' his tone was neutral, lacking any emotion.
'I'm sorry.' I said again, not knowing how to phrase my rejection so it won't hurt him even more.
He got up, standing as tall as he could, and took a step towards me, closing the gap between us. He looked angry, his eyes were dark, clouded.
'What are you sorry for, Lisa?'
He said my name so harshly, like it was a vile word, an insult he was throwing at me.
'I don't love you back, Cristiano.' I whispered, my lungs emptying of air waiting for his reply.
He didn't say anything, but the change in his eyes was worth a thousand words, he looked fierce, his eyes were burning into mine, piercing me. He had never looked sexier, anger made him incredibly hot and I wanted him. Yes!
I tried to shoo away those thoughts, we were best friends, but then I realised that after all that happened during the night, we will never go back to what we had, we won't even be friends anymore.
So why refrain my urges? I knew he'd want that as well. Even if I was leading him on, I felt I still needed to do this. I closed the gap between us, and putting my hand on the back of his neck, I pulled his face close to mine and looking him deeply in his passionate eyes, I kissed him fully on the lips.
And he responded. He kissed me back, shoving his tongue in my mouth, twirling it, making me want him so much more than what I wanted just seconds ago, his hands pulled by body tight and then wandered on my back and our tongues were exploring each other's mouths.
I didn't want to stop, not when I was getting so hot, not when his hands on my body felt so right, sending chills up and down my spine and warmth towards my crotch. I slid my hands down his back, feeling his muscles flex under my touch and grabbing the hem my hands went under his shirt.
His hands were undressing me as well, and I raveled in the warmth of our bodies presses together, twirling my tongue around his, as my hands explored his back.
I gently pulled away, only for the second it took to take his shirt off, because he savagely pulled me back into his arms, his mouth was ravaging mine with all the fury he must've build up from the moment let him know I'm not interested.
I tried to stay on top of the situation, but he seemed to demand taking control, with the way he was manipulating my body, touching me almost brutally, applying force to his embrace, the way he grabbed my butt thought the silky dress, the way he shifted his hand under it and then straight inside me.
I knew I've lost control over this feisty love episode when I feel his fingers inside me, and I welcomed them with dripping wetness. The lust in his touch and eyes was formidable. His mouth moved from mine to my neck where he sucked away, sure to leave a mark the next day.
He extracted his fingers from me and I felt annoyed at this, but he had only done it so he can pull the tiny dress off my body. And then he threw me on the bed, and I awaited him with ragged breath and barely containing my excitement.
He smirked at me, roles reversed, I was the one dangling at the end of the rope he was holding and I knew it, I knew he could avenge my refusal by walking away, so I tried to force him to give himself to me, it had to be done. I looked at him looking at me and I slid my hand in my panties.
His eyes grew wide and in a second his jeans and boxers were on the floor and he joined me, replacing my hand with his, while his lips traced patterns on my skin, a trail of kisses that set my whole body aflame. I didn't know what came over me, why I needed to do this, to have him even if I didn't want him, but my thoughts vanished when his tongue began to lick me through the panties.
Did I really have to explain why I wanted to sleep with him when his tonguewais circling my clit and the sensation was increased tenfold by the friction with the lace...I felt like I was losing my breath and myself when he brought me so close to orgasm.
Then he stopped, just as my hands went in his hair, like a signal that he might give me what I came here for, and he knew he cannot do that, he knew the only way to keep me by his side was to delay my release for as long as possible.
Or maybe not, since he suddenly tore my panties with his teeth and spread my legs open. The mighty Cristiano was going to enter me, and I closed my eyes, savouring the sensation of his dick slowly penetrating me, I lifted my butt slightly to favour the angle and opened my eyes.
He was hovering above me, his face an enigma, a puzzle I didn't have time to solve, I just met his thrusts with hip grinds and wrapped my arms around him, caressing his broad back, soon our bodies were in unison, we were making stellar music and I could feel the pleasure building low in my stomach, gradually heating me up and getting closer and closer to boiling point.
He stared at me and there was an unasked question in his eyes, and I didn't want him to ask it, to ruin this moment, the moment when we were finally having sex, just casual sex, like two strangers that just met. I pulled his head down and kissed his lips while my walls clenched around his dick and I knew he couldn't delay his release much longer.
And so he thrusted once more, deeper and thus triggered my orgasm and his as well, and I floated in the Sargasso sea and my limbs clenched and relaxed and my mind went numb and then cleared up. It was worth it, of course it was.
I always imagined sex with him would be quite awesome and I was not disappointed. I knew I must make my exit as soon as possible, before he had time to cling onto me, before he tried to use our fornicating against me, the moment when he was about to doze off, but our bodies were still intertwined. So I knew I would have to wait till he was asleep.
He looked at me once more, before closing his eyes and I knew he thought he had conquered me, so I allowed myself to stay a while longer, lay next to him and try to imagine this happening often, I tried to think of a future of us together. But I couldn't, I didn't want to be anything else than his best friend, this sex episode was just me trying to be completely sure there were no feelings buried deep inside me.
And there were not, there was just lust, hidden somewhere inside, a feeling of 'what if', a basic need to sleep with the world's greatest stud. And now that it had been quenched, it was time for me to leave. I lost a friend tonight, but not because I slept with him.
My conscience was at ease as I slipped out of bed and put my dress on. My mind was made before the sex and it happening didn't change anything. I looked at him once more and I felt a pang of regret, knowing that a solid friendship was ruined.
But that was all. I stepped outside, at the crack of dawn, and walked away from what had been my life the past two years. It all changed because he told me he loves me and I don't. 2 years ago, I would've probably been swept of my feet, but now all I could do was crack a joke.
Isn't life funny?