For gianny:

After the dinner with Cristiano and his family, you and he had been contacting each other more frequently. Your mothers had supplied each other's phone number and your texted each other constantly. Sitting in your office, sipping your drink, you got a phone call from Cristiano. "Hello?"

"Are you free Tuesday?" he asked.

"Let me check," you replied, scrolling through your schedule. "Yeah, I'm free. Why?"

"I was thinking we should go out to lunch together. You know, catch up. Just the two of us," Cristiano said.

"I would love that. When and where would we be going?"

"I'll pick you up at your work place at noon time on Tuesday. Does that work?"

"It works perfectly," you smiled.

"See you then." Tuesday had rolled around and you straightened out your skirt once more. Cristiano pulled up and you got into the car. "Hey."

"Ready to go?" You nodded and Cristiano drove away from your work place.

"So where are we going?"

"Just to a little restaurant," Cristiano responded, seeming to dance around the topic. The two of you talked about your days so far as Cristiano pulled into the parking lot. You both got out and entered the restaurant. It was small but it was homey at the same time. The hostess led you to a table and left the two of you to pour over the menu.

"How did you find this place?"

"A few of my teammates come here after matches. They said it had good food so I wanted to test it out a bit," Cristiano shrugged.

"It seems nice," you smiled, sipping from the water the waiter brought. You and Cristiano ordered your meals, handing in your menus to the waiter. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"Just our lives. We haven't properly sat down and talked in years."

"Very true. So, what's life like being a top footballer in the world?" you questioned.

"It's a lot of work," Cristiano admitted. "But, I love it. I'm just afraid that one day I'll wake up from this magnificent dream." Cristiano smiled wistfully for a second, caught up in his own world before he focused back on you. "So, what's life like as a successful artist? My mom says that your works being displayed in international shows and everything." You blushed lightly.

"I'd hardly call myself successful. I've had a few pieces displayed but I still have a lot of work left to do before I'm to the top of my game. I work at the museum here in Madrid to keep the bills paid," you replied.

"If you ever have financial difficulty, just let me know," Cristiano stated.

"I wouldn't want to impede you."

"I'd hardly notice the difference in my bank account," he replied.

"Humble as ever, I see," you teased. "So, you have a kid, huh?" Cristiano smiled widely at the mention of his son. You could tell from the way he smiled and the way they had interacted at your mother's get together that Junior meant the world to Cristiano.

"Yes. He's my world," Cristiano smiled.

"I can tell. How old is he?"

"Just turned five," Cristiano informed. "It seems like yesterday he was still only a baby."

"If you don't mind me asking and if this is a perfectly comfortable question for you. . ." you started, staring up at Cristiano to gauge his reaction. He looked up at you, his face calm and confused. ". . . who is Junior's mother? I didn't ever read anything about you having a wife or having a child with that Russian woman," you asked, eating your dinner as you looked to Cristiano. He wiped his face and didn't say anything for a few minutes before responding.

"Junior was the result of a . . . fling, I guess you could say . . ." You nodded, understanding that Cristiano didn't want to bring up the woman he had slept with and ultimately impregnated by accident. Though, you knew, Cristiano didn't have a trace of regret in his eyes. You knew that he wouldn't change having Junior for the World Cup or anything else for that matter. "We don't talk."

"I assumed," you eased into the now slightly tense atmosphere. "I'm sorry if I hit a sore spot."

"No, it's a valid question. Have you had any children?"

"Me? No, no, no. I haven't been in any serious relationships recently or been out and about enough to even brush the possibility of getting pregnant," you responded, sipping your drink afterwards.

"No relationships? A woman as pretty as you should have men lined up out the door," he added.

"You were always good at flattery, Cristiano."

"I'm being serious, (Y/N). If I remember correctly, nearly half the male population of the school asked you out at some point during our high school period."

"Be that as it may, I turned them all down. I guess I just have high standards," you shrugged.

"I seemed to fit those standards, at least when we were both younger," Cristiano winked suggestively, which caused you to blush.

"Yes, well my mother apparently heard us that night," you punctuated the sentence with a sharp glare aimed at a certain Portuguese man.

"Not my fault," he smirked. "If I remember correctly, we were each other's firsts."

"You remember correctly," you replied, tucking a hair behind your head. "And the last one I've had since," you muttered to yourself. You hadn't slept with another man since Cristiano, as pathetic as that sounded to the ears. It just didn't feel right with any other guy.

You and Cristiano talked for the rest of the date, finishing your meals. The waiter left the bill, which Cristiano paid for while ignoring your objection to such actions, and the two of you left the restaurant. You hopped back into Cristiano's car and he drove you back to your work. Parking in front of the building, Cristiano unlocked the doors.

"Thank you for coming to lunch with me," he smiled in thanks.

"The pleasure was all mine. I hope we can do so again, sometime," you replied, eyes twinkling with genuine happiness. "And thanks for paying. I'll see you later," you waved. Cristiano drove away as you walked back into the building. Placing your purse on the ground of your office, you noticed something sticking out of the zipper that didn't belong. Unzipping the bag, you smiled as you picked up the rose that you assumed Cristiano had placed. Attached to it was a note.

"They say roses are the most beautiful flowers because not only are they pretty to look at but they also have sharp thorns to keep away unwanted attention. The man I bought this flower from said it reminded him of his wife. She is beautiful he says and all the boys wanted to date her. She repelled them, keeping her beauty to herself until the man met her. Then the thorns retracted and he was the sole owner of the beautiful flower. This reminds me of you. I hope I'll be the man to gets to call you his. Hopefully we meet again later. Adios, bonita (beautiful)," you read aloud. Smiling, you placed the flower in a pot before going back to work.