Chapter 186
At this moment, Cristiano and Benzema were sitting in the booth in the corner.
"You just want lemonade?" Benzema spoke first. He sat forward slightly, took the drink menu on the table and looked at Cristiano.
Cristiano paused and nodded honestly: "I'm a terrible drinker."
"People who really have a bad drinking tolerance will never admit it. You can definitely drink some." Benzema said. He looked at Cristiano. The Portuguese had a face that was very good at playing in a bar. He didn't believe what the other said. "I plan to have some. What about you?"
"Lemonade is enough." Cristiano smiled and shook his head. "I just know myself very well."
Oh well. Benzema thought to himself that he needed some alcohol anyway.
He ordered a glass of vodka, a clear, colorless and odorless liquor, with only ice cubes and a lemon slice, nothing else.
Cristiano widened his eyes slightly, stopped the bartender before he handed the drink to Benzema, asked for an empty glass, poured out nearly half of the wine, and then signaled the bartender to take the half glass of vodka back.
"It's still the season, Karim, you don't need so much liquor." Cristiano looked at his friend disapprovingly.
Benzema said nothing and acquiesced to Cristiano's decision to order half a glass of vodka for him.
If his club teammates at Lyon saw this, they would definitely be very surprised because Benzema never listened to their advice.
Benzema took the wide glass of vodka with lemon and ice from Cristiano, took a sip, and then said: "So this is why you only ordered lemonade? Because it's the season?"
"Yeah." Cristiano responded.
He turned his lemonade around and moved it towards himself. It was the same wide-mouthed glass with two lemon slices stuck on the rim. The only difference was that Benzema's glass had a circle of salt on the rim. He didn't want to drink the wrong one.
"I have to be prepared for the game at all times. You know, no matter how much or how thoroughly you prepare, it is never too much. No one will complain that it is too little." Cristiano curled the corners of his mouth.
He looked towards Benzema, and when he met his young friend's eyes he knew they could start talking.
Benzema smiled, then quickly lowered his head. He rubbed the rim of his glass with his thumb, and after several seconds he spoke slowly: "I don't know, Cristiano, I think I have done enough, but I haven't seen what I deserve. The effort and reward are not equal."
"Sometimes it is like that." Cristiano did not deny it. "I understand, Karim."
Benzema looked over and shook his head slightly. Although he didn't say it out loud, he thought to himself, how could Chris understand? It's not like he only scored three or four goals for most of the season.
"You see, I work twice as hard as others, or even harder, so failure is even more painful for me, and the media only sees the surface, they only sigh and have fun, but they don't see what I've put in." Cristiano leaned forward, closing the distance between them, tapping the table with his finger, "Karim, so I understand how you feel, and I mean it."
He had a keen sense of what was going on in the French mind.
Benzema paused, he was stunned for a moment, then quickly looked away. He lowered his head and took a big sip of vodka. The spicy liquid slid into his throat, as if a fire was suddenly burning.
He whispered, "I'm sorry, Chris, I..."
"Hey, I'm not saying this to make you feel sorry, I just want to tell you, my friend, I'm not lying, I never lie." Cristiano looked at the other person's eyes seriously, and he said softly, "You encountered some difficulties, I saw that, every player will be troubled by the state, and this needs to be adjusted by themselves. I won't comfort you that it's just bad luck."
Benzema pursed his lips, and Raul told him that he was just unlucky and his shots were always just a little bit off, but he knew in his heart that he didn't want such consolation and it was of no use.
Should he pray to God on Ramadan to give him more luck? This is funny.
Cristiano reached out and put his hand on Benzema's shoulder and squeezed it hard: "I won't say that, but I will tell you that this is only temporary."
"You won the top scorer in Ligue 1 and the league's golden boot. These are solid achievements, which are enough to prove that your level is more than what you have shown so far. You just need to find the form to show it. I will help you, Karim, I believe in you."
Benzema pursed his lips, took another sip of wine, and then pushed the glass forward.
The wine glass slid in a smooth arc on the smooth low table, and then collided crisply with Cristiano's lemonade.
He exhaled and looked up at Cristiano: "Chris, I don't understand. We have only been teammates for less than a year, but you always make me feel as if we have been teammates for many years. I mean, your attitude towards me, in all aspects."
Cristiano was stunned for a moment. He didn't expect the French to be so sensitive.
He lowered his eyes, feeling a little guilty and panicked, he grabbed two cups next to each other on the table. He picked up one cup and shook the transparent liquid in the cup twice: "My attitude towards you? I don't understand."
"You are very good to me, you believe in me, you are willing to help me, but we are in a competitive relationship." Benzema pointed out that they are all players on the front line, and competition for the ball, firing rights and core is inevitable, although he knows in his heart that he does not have much competitiveness now.
But as long as they are in the same club, there will always be competition in the team, especially in Real Madrid, they all want to be the starting main force, no one wants to be pressed on the bench or the rotation bench.
"But we are also teammates, Karim. All I want is championships and victories. I don't mind competition, it keeps me motivated." Cristiano breathed a sigh of relief. This is what he meant. He smiled. "The team needs more than one attacker who can score goals. We can cooperate well. I need you and you will need me."
"I want to win a lot of titles, La Liga, Cup, Champions League... This is what it means to be in Real Madrid," Cristiano said.
He relaxed and leaned back in his chair, raised his glass of lemonade to the Frenchman, and curled his lips: "It's just a temporary goal drought, it's nothing, Karim, I will take good care of you, you will break this, and then we will score goals together and win the championship together."
Benzema also picked up his wine glass. He relaxed unconsciously and smiled slightly.
Cristiano's confidence was contagious, and he actually felt more relaxed than he had in a long time, as if anything Cristiano said would come true.
He raised his glass to Cristiano: "Thanks, Chris, I'll remember this."
Benzema thought to himself that tonight meant a lot to him.
He took a big sip of vodka, but the expected hot liquid did not flow down his throat. Instead, it was replaced by a light, sweet water with a hint of lemon. He was stunned for a moment and then looked at Cristiano.
The Portuguese also took a big gulp. Before he could remind him, the expression on the other person's face froze.
But apparently, the subconscious swallowing action was like a muscle memory reflex, and Cristiano only felt a fire burning in his throat.
"Uh...Cristiano? We drank from the wrong glass." Benzema slowly took his glass back from Cristiano's hand.
He coughed lightly, glanced at his empty wine glass out of the corner of his eye, and couldn't help but take a slight breath. Oh my God, even he wouldn't finish the whole glass in one gulp.
He looked at Cristiano and asked in a low voice: "Are you okay?"
"It's a bit spicy." Cristiano quickly took back his lemonade and drank it in one gulp. In less than a minute, his face and the area around his eyes were completely red.
"That's vodka, my friend." Benzema couldn't help but laugh softly when he heard it.
He looked at Cristiano. Now he was sure that Cristiano really would not tell a lie. He really could not drink. His eyes seemed to be moistened by the stimulation of the strong liquor, not to mention the redness on his face.
He patted Cristiano's shoulder, stood up and said, "Okay Chris, I should take you back to your room."
"Well, are we done talking?" Cristiano raised his eyes, still sitting on the soft sofa. He looked up at the Frenchman who stood up, "Karim, are you ready? Are we okay?"
"Yes, Chris." Benzema laughed softly. He pulled Cristiano up and patted Cristiano's cheek. Well, he understood why Van Nistelrooy and Ramos liked to do this. Cristiano's face was fleshy and the touch was good. He said, "We had no problem to begin with, Chris. It's even better now. I will come over and we will win the championship."
Cristiano nodded obediently upon hearing this and stood up with Benzema's strength.
"Now I'm going to return you to Kaka." Benzema curled his lips, "You two are really conjoined twins."
Cristiano snorted.
"I just took a sip of vodka, it doesn't mean I'm drunk," Cristiano said as he and Benzema walked into the elevator, muttering, "Don't try to get anything out of me."
"What did you say, Chris?" Benzema didn't hear clearly. The young Portuguese man spoke something that seemed to be Portuguese and English, but it was too soft and too vague. He shook his head and thought helplessly in his heart that Cristiano was definitely drunk and got drunk very quickly.
He was feeling a little embarrassed now, and he hoped that when he knocked on Kaka's door later, the Brazilian wouldn't glare at him as if he had done something wrong.
Benzema pulled Cristiano to the door, rang the doorbell, and the door was opened in a few seconds.
"Karim? Cris?" Kaka was stunned for a moment, then quickly took the blushing lover from the Frenchman. He looked over in surprise, "Did you drink?"
"Uh, Chris drank from the wrong glass, an accident." Benzema touched the tip of his nose, he stepped back and spread his hands slightly, "Well, I will remember not to let him touch the glass when we celebrate next time, so good night, Kaka."
The Frenchman spoke a lot in a rare breath, then turned and left.
He knew how annoying it was to have a drunk roommate, and he didn't want to provoke the Brazilian's wrath.
Kaka closed and locked the door, then took Cristiano back to the bed. He looked down at the Portuguese with moist eyes, and he didn't even smell any alcohol.
"Cris..." Kaka couldn't help but laugh, and pressed his nose helplessly.
"I'm just a little embarrassed." Cristiano muttered. He pursed his lips and grumbled in dissatisfaction. He pulled at his collar and felt a little hot. "Pure vodka is really not tasty. Karim has a weird taste in alcohol."
Kaka: “…”Pure vodka? ?
He was determined never to let Cristiano go out alone with the Frenchman again.
"But the good news is that Karim's problem is solved." Cristiano smiled lazily as he leaned back against the cushions, grinning widely as he reached out to his lover, "I'm awesome."
Kaka didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so he leaned closer and let Cristiano grab him. He leaned closer and kissed the corner of his lover's mouth: "You are great. Except for drinking from the wrong glass."
Cristiano dodged in dissatisfaction. The alcohol made him a little childish. He curled his lips and complained aggrievedly: "The glasses for lemonade and wine in the bar downstairs look the same. This is too amateur. You can't blame me."
"Okay, okay, blame the bartender." Seeing this, Kaka immediately agreed unconditionally. He kissed his lover's pink eyelids and laughed softly.
The Portuguese people are also very cute when they are slightly drunk like this.
He placed his nose against Cristiano's intimacy, thinking, maybe this was a small gift to the lover he had loaned out?
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