Cheating Across the Pond

When, I got back to the apartment. I called my parents, Sara and Stephen. I was too awake from both the nap I took and the jet lag so I started unpacking and made a list of all the things I would need to make the apartment feel more like home.

By the week's end, I had become acquainted with the city and added a few personal flourishes to my apartment like the UCLA pennant and pictures of my family and Stephen and me. On Monday, I would start my internship under the guidance of Rob Swire, the head physiotherapist. I didn't know it then but that Monday would be the beginning of the end.

“Hello, Mr. Swire, I'm Alyssa Giggs from the United States. I'm so happy and grateful for this opportunity.”

“Please, call me Rob. Today, we'll be doing physicals and getting the stats down for the season. We'll also be monitoring practice. I also want you to start taking an inventory of our supplies so that we can stock up for the pre-season and the upcoming season.”

I nodded as Rob gave me a tour of the facility and pointed out the locker rooms, the tunnel, and even showed me the pitch. “This is pretty magical,” I commented, “You can almost feel the history.”

“A great many things have happened here,” A distinctly Scottish accent said from behind us.

I turned around and it was Sir Alex Ferguson, smacking on his gum like usual. “I'm Alyssa Giggs from the States. It's a great honor to meet you, sir,” I extended my hand towards him.

He shook my hand, “Ah yes. The niece. Robert, I'll be sending the boys down soon. Good luck, Alyssa Giggs from the States.”

“Thank you, sir.” I wasn't sure what to do really. I thought I was going to have to curtsy or something.



Physicals are, well, physicals. From a purely professional point of view, it's tedious and boring. You perform the same tests over and over again. You ask the same questions. You get the same blank stares and nonsensical responses. You get buried with paperwork, which as the intern I must file. Physicals are like airport security, completely annoying but necessary. From a woman's point of view, it rocks. You get to see hot soccer players run on the treadmill with nothing but their skivvies on. Of course, all this goes out the window when you have an overprotective uncle. Every five players that walked in for their physicals, Uncle Ryan would pop his head into the room and remind me of Stephen or chastise the unfortunate player who happened to be there.

“Okay, that's it,” I said as I signed the physical papers. “You can get back to training.” I went to file the papers away. I heard the familiar clacking cleats of cleats on tile as the Academy player jogged off. Click, clack, click, clack. The shuffling of feet towards me, “Uncle Ryan. I know. I have Stephen and the next player isn't even here yet,” I called out from behind the desk. “So get back to training before Sir Alex has my head.”

“Stephen? Who is Stephen?” a deep, accented voice said. One look at the shoes and I knew who it was. Cristiano Ronaldo. Adequately dubbed sex on legs by many blogs.

“Stephen's no one,” I blurted out, “Um-I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else,” I quickly extended my hand towards him, “I'm Alyssa Giggs, the new intern.”

“Ah, Ryan's niece,” He shook my hand, “It's nice to meet you, too.”

“Well, fill out these forms and we can start physical,” I handed him a manila folder and a pen.

As Cristiano was filling out the paperwork, Ryan peeked his head in for the umpteenth time. “Now Lizzie, I know you know that I know that I am obligated as your uncle to protect you and warn you about the boys here, especially Cris,” He turned from me to Cristiano, “Cris you try anything with her and I will personally kill you.” The seriousness in his tone made me not doubt him.

“Uncle Ryan, please go back to training. I know,” I held up my hand and flashed him my ring.

“Yes but he doesn't.” And with that he returned back to training.

I rolled my eyes, “Sorry about that. Are you done with those?”

“It's okay.” He handed me the folder.

I read through the info, “Shirt off,” I said, not bothering to lift my eyes, as I signed my name at the bottom. “Wow. Those are nice.”

He just grinned his signature Ronaldo smirk that I swear was patented.

It actually took me a little bit to recover, “Um-I'm gonna need you to put on the heart monitor and jog on the treadmill.” Professional, stay professional. I kept telling myself. Stay professional. The rest of the physical went as well as it could, considering I was oggling him for most of it. Don't judge, a girl can look.

“That's all, Cristiano. You can go back to training.”

“You can call me Cris.”

“Okay, Cris, you can go back to training now.”

“The guys are going to Rio's to hangout. Do you wanna come?”

“I'd love to but I just don't think it'd be appropriate. Thanks though.” Oh my God. Did I just turn down hanging out with Cristiano Ronaldo and the “guys” at Rio Ferdinand's house?

“Okay. But I will get you to go out,” He winked before putting on his shirt, “With me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes and sooner than you think.”