Dezanove Estrelas

“Cristiano, isto é louco!” (“Cristiano, this is crazy!”) Camille giggled, “Tire esta venda de mim!” (“take this blindfold off of me!”)

It had been a about two months since Cristiano had shared the news about Real Madrid with Camilla. Needless to say, those two months were very hectic. Cristiano finalized his deal with Madrid. The press flooded his home, making it nearly impossible for her to go see him without being hounded. He had done interview, after interview, after interview. He flew back and forth between Spain and Manchester. He packed up everything he owned as well as everything she owned, and was ready to move it to his, or rather, their new home.

Their home. Their brand new home. The thought alone made Camilla her lips curve upward into a smile. She had never lived with a boyfriend before, mainly because no boyfriend of hers was ever serious enough. But Cristiano was different; hell he convinced her to leave Manchester for Spain.

Spain. Her birthplace. That thought only made her smile grow. She hadn’t been back to Madrid since she moved to Manchester three years ago for school. She always wanted to go and visit over breaks and such, but she could never find time. But now she was going back, permanently.

“Não. Você acaba de ter que esperar um par mais passos, então eu o mostrarei,” (“Nope. You just have to wait a couple more steps, then I will show you,”) Cristiano told her. They arrived in Spain not too long ago. After stepping off the plane, into the airport and out to the car Cristiano presented a lovely blindfold for Camilla. She obliged and put it on. They drove about two hours from the airport to an unknown place - as far as Camilla goes - and now Cristiano was leading her along some sort of pathway. “Tá bom, agarra-se real rápido,” (“Okay, hold on real quick,”) he told her, she felt his grasp on her arms vanish for a moment as she heard the opening of a door, then they were back. He led her a little farther forward before they both stopped.

“Eu posso tomar este fora agora?” (“Can I take this off now?”) Camilla asked.

She felt Cristiano kiss her neck gently. His hands moved up and down her arms, resting on her shoulders. She then felt his hot breath on her ear when he whispered, “Eu o farei.” (“I’ll do it.”)

Camilla stayed completely still as she waited for the blindfold to come off. Once it did, her jaw dropped. “Cristiano? O que é isto?” (“Cristiano? What is this?”) she stepped forward a bit, slightly confused at where he had taken her.

Still standing in his place he crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for her real reaction, “É para casa…nosso Camilla doméstico.” (“it’s home…our home Camilla.”)

“Oh meu deus,” (“Oh my god,”) Camilla gasped.

Crisitano smiled, even though his girlfriend’s back was to him, he knew she was smiling too. He walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She turned in his arms and looked up at him. “Isto é realmente nossa casa? Oficialmente? Como em nós ambos vivem aqui?” (“This is really our home? Officially? As in we both live here?”)

He rolled his eyes, “Nenhum Camilla, nós vivemos numa caixa atrás desta casa. Naturalmente nós vivemos aqui agora!” (“no Camilla, we live in a box behind this house. Of course we live here now!”)

She nodded her head slowly. Cristiano looked down at her with a cocked eyebrow, before she suddenly jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist, and hands wound together around his neck. She kissed him repeatedly all over his face; in return, he chuckled at her, “Eu soube que você gostaria de ele.” (“I knew you’d like it.”)

-X-

Camilla stirred in her sleep as the phone rang. She reached for it and answered with a mumbled hello.

“¡Camilla! ¡Venimos sobre!” (“Camilla! We’re coming over!”)

She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, “¿Sergio? ¿De qué habla usted? ¿Quién es nosotros?” (“Sergio? What are you talking about? Who’s we?”)

“Yo no puedo decir…” (“I can’t say…”)

She rolled her eyes, “Sergio!”

“¡Ah no! Atravieso un túnel. ¡Esté en su casa en diez minutos! ¡Esté listo!” (“Oh no! I’m going through a tunnel. Be at your house in ten minutes! Be ready!”) and the line went dead. She stared at the phone, before throwing it down on the bed and falling back. She sighed, having no idea what was about to happen. Deciding it was better to take his advice and be ready, she got out of bed.

Her back was killing her and her head was throbbing. It didn’t help that she had that specific dream either. She couldn’t exactly pinpoint when her relationship with Cristiano started to go down…but moving to Spain was definitely a start.

Sure, no one else would have guessed from that dream, she couldn’t even believe at first, but the more she thought about it, the more it seemed to click with her.

The move to Spain was supposed to be the start of a more serious relationship. Back in Manchester, they lived apart. They dated frequently and whenever they’d see each other it’d be like a surprise between the two of them. Then came Spain. After two years together, they finally move in - in a different country, head on. The surprise was no longer there, due to the fact that they now slept in the same bed everyday…but they made excitement work…or tried to…

-X-

Camilla scrambled around the house, clad in a pair of worn out jean shorts, and a simple V-neck t-shirt, unpacking, cleaning and decorating hers and Cristiano’s brand new home. It was around two in the afternoon and she was just about done wiping down the kitchen, and was ready to move to the dining room when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

Camilla rolled her eyes nonchalantly when she felt her boyfriend’s arms around her waist. It was past lunch and he was just now waking up. Cristiano sensed the negative energy coming from her, and began kissing her neck, knowing she’d squirm - then giggle - then give in. She always did. But Camilla was putting up a fight this morning. If she had to wake up at eight in the morning to begin cleaning by herself, she was going to make him suffer the silent treatment.

“Camilla. Camilla. Camilla-aaaaa,” Cristiano sang, “Oh venha em bebê, você sabe que você pode 't resiste.” (“oh come on baby, you know you can‘t resist.”) He kissed along her shoulder and up her neck. “Eu visto 't sabe o que eu fiz fazer você então acalma,” (“I don‘t know what I did to make you so quiet,”) he kissed behind her ear, “Mas eu devo dizer, você parece tão sexy, todo quente e incomodado e frustrado e louco como isto.” (“but I must say, you look so sexy, all hot and bothered and frustrated and mad like this.”) Cristiano began nibbling on her earlobe and his hands went from her waist to her butt, squeezing it lovingly, and Camilla couldn’t control herself any longer. She turned her head and kissed Cristiano hard.

He of course, kissed back. But the kiss cut short when she felt that beautiful mouth of his turn upward into a smirk. She pulled away and playfully shoved his shoulder, “você bastardo,” (“you bastard,”) she joked, “Eu odeio você e sua conversa lisa” (“I hate you and you’re smooth talking.”) He grinned down at her and pecked her lips quickly before walking to the fridge, to find something to eat. It was then that Camilla noticed his attire: freshly ironed, dark wash jeans, a plain white t-shirt, a pair of brand new, all white sneakers, his hair was done, his watch on and rosary hung from his neck. He was ready to go out.

“A onde estão você fora?” (“Where are you off to?”) she asked, slightly worried Cristiano was going to back out on helping her with furnishing, again. Since their move Camilla wanted to do all the home furnishing herself - to give it a more homely feeling. And since their move Cristiano had promised to help her, but he couldn’t because of preparation with Madrid. Next week was his presentation, which meant a lot of press. She understood that he could not simply miss any of his interviews, so she let him go. But today, specifically today, he was going to help her. He had even called his manager, in front of Camilla, who told him he could have a day off to get settled in. Camilla was more than overjoyed. But because someone did not want to wake up, she allowed him to sleep in, figuring she’d just make him move furniture - that was the last thing they needed to do.

Cristiano did not turn away from the refrigerator as he replied, “Eu tenho uma entrevista” (“I have an interview.”)

Camilla put her cleaning supplies down, “Mas eu pensei-” (“But I thought-”)

His phone began ringing from his back pocket, he pulled it out and answered, completely ignoring her. He soon hung up and turned to Camilla, “Eu tenho que ir” (“I have to go.”)

“Mas, mas Cristiano que eu pensei que você era…” (“But, but Cristiano I thought you were…”)

Her voice faded out as he was already at the door. “Camilla eu 'll é para casa por jantar. Eu 'chamada de ll você logo que eu recebo à entrevista. Eu amo-o. Tchau.” (“Camilla I‘ll be home by dinner. I‘ll call you as soon as I get to the interview. I love you. Bye.”) He called from the door. She didn’t get a chance to reply as the door slammed shut.
-X-

The doorbell rang and she sighed, running her hands over her face. She walked out of the bedroom and made her way downstairs. That had to be the moment she knew she was in for a very, very different life; different from that of her childhood in Spain and different from that of what she had in Manchester.

Cristiano had given in to the media - this was for sure.

He was always arrogant - which Camilla had to admit, she found attractive - but he was never so consumed in himself that he’d let the fame overtake him. But she stood by his side nonetheless. If only she had seen everything earlier, then maybe she wouldn’t be in the mess she was in right now.

The doorbell kept ringing as she was only halfway down the stairs. She was moving very slowly for a reason. She didn’t want to deal with anything right now. She was sick of it; mentally and physically, this was all just draining her.

Camilla wanted so bad, just to go back to the times when nothing mattered in both hers and Cris’s life, except the little things. Like each other, and late nights, movies at home, bare feet. Open windows allowing the night’s breeze to wash over them. Camilla wasn’t raised in a materialist fashion. She didn’t need much. And when Cristiano bought the two million plus dollar home, with three brand new cars, and this and that, she was a bit overwhelmed. Sure she did enjoy the occasional showering of gifts. But she didn’t need it. All she needed was him.

And now he wasn’t even here, in the home he had purchased.

The bell continued to ring and she finally raised her voice, “¡Sergio! ¡Llame mi timbre uno más tiempo y yo juran que sufrirá una consecuencia muy grave!” (“Sergio! Ring my doorbell one more time and I swear you will suffer a very serious consequence!”) She opened the door and in walked Sergio and Kaká. Her jaw dropped, “lo que es usted tipos” (“what are you guys-”)

“¡Ningún tiempo de hablar"! ¡Tenemos alguna planificación grave para hacer poco fallo!” (“No time to talk!” We have some serious planning to do little miss!”) Kaká told her. He lead her into the living room where both men sat her down and began talking. Fast. Not only that, but they were saying two different things at once.

As much as she wanted to pay attention to whatever it was they were saying, she couldn’t focus. All she wanted to do was go back to sleep, back to dreaming. At least then, things seemed okay.