Glaze 2 (End)

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The drive up to the villa was lined with security, and as they approached the gates, the flash of paparazzi cameras filled the air. Tristan had grown accustomed to the media frenzy, but tonight, the spectacle outside Beckham's home was way different anything he experienced before.

As he reached the gate, the security guard approached, asking for the invitation. Tristan handed over the card Beckham had given him. After a brief check, the gate opened, allowing them inside.

Inside, the villa buzzed with life. Celebrities, entertainers, and football legends mingled in the luxurious glow of chandeliers and ambient lighting. The hum of lively conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter filled the air. Tristan stepped in, momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer star power in the room, but quickly composed himself.

It wasn't long before Beckham spotted him and strode over with a warm smile.

"Ah, there you are!" Beckham exclaimed, pulling Tristan into a firm hug. "Come with me—I've got someone special for you to meet."

Beckham led Tristan through the crowd, stopping in front of one of the most recognizable faces in football history.

"Ronaldinho," Beckham said, gesturing toward Tristan, "this is Tristan."

Tristan's heart raced as he extended his hand, his grin wide and genuine. "It's an honor to meet you!" he said, carefully delivering the line in Portuguese, a skill he'd been practicing thanks to Sophia's guidance.

Both Beckham and Ronaldinho exchanged amused, impressed glances. Ronaldinho's face lit up as he broke into a rapid stream of Portuguese, his animated gestures adding to his excitement. Tristan smiled politely, trying his best to follow, but the Brazilian's pace left him lost.

"Uh… what did he say?" Tristan finally asked, glancing at Beckham for help.

Beckham laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "He said he knows who you are. He watched one of your games live and thought you played really well."

Tristan's eyes widened, and a flush of pride crept into his cheeks. "He watched my game?"

Ronaldinho nodded enthusiastically, offering a thumbs-up as he said a few more words, this time more slowly. Beckham translated again. "He says you've got great flair and vision. Reminds him of the younger players he loves to watch."

The conversation continued, with Ronaldinho effortlessly switching to Spanish as he spoke with Beckham. The two legends shared a hearty laugh, leaving Tristan standing by, trying to decipher the exchange.

Finally, Beckham turned to Tristan, his trademark grin firmly in place. "Ronaldinho just asked if you'd ever consider playing for Barcelona," Beckham said with a chuckle. "He even offered to introduce you to them. Oh, and he mentioned you play with flair—'style,' as he put it."

Tristan's eyes widened in surprise before Beckham added with mock indignation, "And I told him not to poach players for Barcelona right in front of me."

A genuine smile broke across Tristan's face as the words sank in. The thought of Barcelona—one of the greatest clubs in football history—taking an interest in him was flattering beyond belief. But the improbability of it all made him laugh out loud.

"That's a nice thought," Tristan said, shaking his head lightly, "but I'm not holding my breath."

Beckham clapped him on the back, his grin widening. "You never know, mate. Stranger things have happened in football. But for now, come on—there are plenty more people for you to meet."

He gestured for Tristan to follow, pulling him back into the lively scene.

Beckham led Tristan through the crowd, weaving past clusters of celebrities and football icons until they stopped in front of none other than Ronaldo Luís Nazário de Lima—better known as R9, the Brazilian phenomenon.

"Tristan, meet the one and only Ronaldo," Beckham said, a proud grin on his face.

Tristan blinked in surprise as he took in the man standing before him. Gone was the lean, explosive athlete who had terrorized defenders with his dazzling footwork and clinical finishing. In his place was a middle-aged figure with a broader frame and a noticeable belly straining against his fitted jersey. It was a stark contrast to the Ronaldo of highlight reels, but his aura remained unmistakable.

To someone unfamiliar with football, R9's current appearance might seem unassuming, even ordinary. But for those who knew the game, there was no mistaking him.

Beckham led Tristan through the lively crowd, finally stopping in front of the one and only Ronaldo Luís Nazário de Lima—R9, the Brazilian icon.

"Tristan, I'd like you to meet the phenomenon himself," Beckham said with a grin. "Ronaldo."

Tristan extended his hand, his heart racing. "It's an honor to meet you, sir."

Ronaldo clasped Tristan's hand in a firm shake, his smile lighting up his face. "Sir? No need for that, kid. Call me Ronaldo. I've seen you play—you remind me of someone."

Tristan couldn't help but grin. "Really? Who?"

Ronaldo chuckled, "Zidane, of course, both of you guys passes and IQ are amazing."

Looking at the famous names in his follow list, a thrill shot through Tristan. This night, he realized, was one he would never forget.

Ronaldo chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Zidane, of course. Both of you have unbelievable vision, passing, and football IQ," he said, his eyes twinkling with admiration.

Ronaldo's friendly demeanor instantly put Tristan at ease. He radiated an infectious charisma, the kind that made everyone in the room feel like they belonged. Despite being a living legend, there wasn't an ounce of arrogance in him.

"You know," Ronaldo continued, his smile widening, "I watched that quarter-final—England versus Brazil. You gave us a run for our money! And I have to say, you've got something special. I told Ronaldinho earlier, 'If I had Tristan and Beckham with me back at Real Madrid, I would've broken Messi's record of 91 goals in a year!'"

The room erupted in laughter at his playful tone, though Tristan caught the wistfulness in Ronaldo's voice. The words, while lighthearted, carried a sense of nostalgia—a longing for the days when he ruled the pitch, a reminder of the magic he created during his prime.

Tristan laughed along, his respect for the Brazilian legend growing with every passing moment. "I'm not sure I'd be much help," he said modestly, "but I appreciate the compliment."

Ronaldo leaned in with a conspiratorial grin, his voice dropping slightly. "And if you ever feel like making your way to Real Madrid, let me know. I've still got some friends in high places. I can make a call." He finished with a wink

Before he could formulate a response, Beckham, ever the host, clapped him on the back. "Come on, mate. There's still more for you to see."

Tristan followed Beckham through the villa, marveling at the sheer concentration of footballing greatness around him. Next up was Luís Figo, whose elegant style of play had inspired a generation. Then there was Patrice Evra, cracking jokes and sharing stories of his time at Manchester United. Rio Ferdinand stood nearby, engaged in an animated discussion with Paul Scholes, while Ryan Giggs and the Neville brothers reminisced about their glory days as part of Manchester United's Class of '92.

Tristan was in awe. These weren't just names; they were legends whose feats had been etched into the annals of football history. One by one, Beckham introduced him, each handshake and conversation feeling surreal.

What struck Tristan most was how approachable everyone was. Despite their legendary status, they welcomed him like an equal, exchanging laughs, anecdotes, and even a few bits of advice.

As the night unfolded, Tristan found himself immersed in a whirlwind of introductions, laughter, and conversations with some of the greatest names in football history. He could hardly believe how effortlessly he had been welcomed into this world of legends. By the time the initial round of introductions wound down, his phone vibrated persistently in his pocket. Curious, he pulled it out and was greeted by a flood of notifications—new followers on social media.

His breath caught for a moment as he scanned the names: Ronaldinho, Zidane, Ronaldo, Figo, and even Evra. These weren't just players; they were icons whose careers had shaped the very game he loved. A broad smile stretched across his face as he slipped the phone back into his pocket, the weight of the moment sinking in.

Beckham, ever the gracious host, nudged him back into the present. "Come on, mate. Let's get you introduced to a few more people."

Tristan soon found himself in the company of Manchester United's Class of '92—Ryan Giggs, Paul Scholes, and the Neville brothers. As a fellow Englishman, he quickly felt at home among them.

"Tristan," Gary Neville began with an earnest smile, "I have to say, your World Cup performance was incredible! Honestly, some of the coaches and I agreed—you were the key to getting England to the quarterfinals."

The praise caught Tristan slightly off guard, but he managed a modest smile, lifting his glass in a small toast. "Thank you, Gary. I just tried to do my part for the team."

Neville, who had been an assistant coach for England during the World Cup in Brazil, wasn't one to mince words. "I mean it," he continued. "Without you, I'm not sure we would've even made it out of the group stage. You gave the squad something we've been missing for years—a spark, a real difference-maker."

Tristan felt a warm flush of pride but remained humble. "It was a team effort," he replied, his tone measured. "Everyone played their part."

Paul Scholes, known for his sharp footballing mind, joined the conversation with a curious glint in his eye. "I bet you had a lot of offers come your way after the World Cup. Top clubs must've been lining up."

Tristan nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I won't lie—there were quite a few offers. It's flattering, of course, but it's also a lot to think about."

"So, what's the plan?" Neville asked, leaning in slightly. "Stay at Leicester, or are you thinking about making a move?"

Before Tristan could answer, Beckham interjected with a playful grin. "Gary, what are you now? A journalist? Since when are you so invested in transfer gossip?"

The group erupted into laughter, and Neville raised his hands in mock defense. "Hey, David, I'm just looking out for him! It's not every day you see a talent like this come through."

Tristan chuckled, appreciating the lighthearted banter. "Thanks for your concern," he said with a smirk, "but I'm still figuring it all out. I want to make the right move when the time comes."

Ryan Giggs, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. "Take your time, lad. Don't rush it. The right opportunity will come, and when it does, you'll know."

As the conversation shifted to anecdotes about their playing days, Tristan found himself captivated by the stories of battles on the pitch, legendary matches, and behind-the-scenes moments that rarely made it to the public eye.

.....

God I hated writing those two chapters, made me cringe so much and finally we're are done with this bullshit, now I actually need help with this part. Should I keep the Kendall Jenner part in this story?

She doesn't really do anything, the mc just has one date with her and then mets Barbara Palvin and starts dating her and basically has no contact with her, I think. I do see someone say the chinese mc meets with Kendall again and cheats basically or is implied but we not doing that bullshit.