England's Greatest-Chapter 136: Third Day

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September 28, 2014, Early Morning

....

Tristan moved quietly as he unlocked the door to Barbara's hotel room with the key card she'd given him the day before.

He expected her to be awake—she'd told him she always was, long before the clock hit seven. But when his texts went unanswered, he assumed she was just busy or in the shower. Even as he stood in the quiet room, the thought of her oversleeping seemed unlikely as it was already nine.

He set his duffel bag down in the armchair, his gaze softening when it landed on the bed. She was still buried under the covers, her breathing slow and steady.

Tristan's lips quirked up in a small smile—so much for always being up early. Not that he could blame her; the last few days had been a whirlwind, so it was no surprise she needed the rest.

He moved closer, planning to nudge her awake gently.

But before he could reach out, Barbara's body jolted violently, her breath catching as she shot up in bed. Her eyes were wide, unfocused, raw panic flickering in them as her hands clutched the sheets tightly, knuckles white.

"Barb—" Tristan started, but the word caught in his throat at the sight of her fear.

Her chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths, her gaze darting around the room, wild and desperate. The adrenaline pulsed through her, her mind racing through every worst-case scenario.

"Hey, hey," Tristan's voice was calm, but his expression was anything but. His eyes were filled with guilt, "It's me. It's okay."

His voice broke through the haze of panic. Barbara blinked, her vision snapping back into focus. It was just Tristan. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly, but her breath still came in sharp gasps as she pressed a shaky hand to her chest. "Jesus Christ," she whispered, voice trembling.

Tristan was already sitting on the bed beside her, brows furrowed in concern. "I'm sorry," he murmured, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. "I thought you'd be awake."

Barbara let out a breath, swallowing as she leaned into his touch slightly. "I—I usually am." She glanced at the nightstand, spotting her phone. She grabbed it, seeing the missed texts and call. "Shit. I must've slept through it."

Tristan's lips pressed together, his fingers trailing down to rest lightly on her arm. "I shouldn't have just walked in like that," he admitted, guilt creeping into his tone. "I didn't think—I mean, you gave me the key, I just figured—"

Barbara shook her head quickly, already sensing the guilt in his eyes. "No, it's not you," she murmured, exhaling as she finally started to relax. "It's just... I don't know. My brain went to the worst possible scenario."

His gaze softened, concern flickering in his green eyes. "You thought someone broke in?"

Barbara let out a slow breath, nodding as she tucked her hair behind her ear. "I guess my brain just went to the worst possible place," she admitted, shaking her head at herself. "I've never dealt with anything like that, but some of my friends have, and I don't know... I just panicked for a second."

His fingers traced gentle circles over her wrist. "I hate that you even had to think like that," he murmured, shaking his head.

Barbara sighed, the initial adrenaline fading, leaving only a dull embarrassment at how she had reacted. "It's fine. You just startled me, that's all."

Tristan didn't look convinced. His lips pressed into a firm line before he lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles. Then, as if that wasn't enough, he leaned in, letting his lips linger against her temple. "I'm sorry", he murmured against her skin, his voice lower now, almost guilty.

Barbara exhaled, her body fully relaxing as she melted into his warmth. "You're forgiven," she whispered, closing her eyes briefly as he kissed her temple again, slower this time.

Tristan pulled back just slightly, though his hands never left her. One rested against her cheek, his thumb brushing softly over her jaw, the other on her thigh, his grip grounding her. "Still," he murmured, his lips ghosting over her forehead this time, "I feel like I owe you something for scaring you."

Barbara huffed a quiet laugh, finally meeting his gaze. "Breakfast."

Tristan smirked, tilting his head slightly. "That's it? That's all I have to do to make it up to you?"

Barbara stretched her arms over her head, her body still heavy with sleep. "Mhm. It's a fair price."

Tristan chuckled, shifting so he could lean over her, his weight pressing comfortably against her side. "Done."

Barbara groaned playfully, flopping back against the pillows with a dramatic sigh. "But later."

Tristan laughed kicking off his shoes before sliding under the covers beside her, immediately pulling her against his chest. "Yeah, later," he murmured, his lips brushing against her hair. His arms tightened around her waist, holding her close as if he was making up for the moment he had scared her.

Barbara sighed contently, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns against his forearm. "You know," she mused sleepily, tilting her head slightly against his shoulder, "for someone who just scared the shit out of me... you're really good at making me feel safe."

Tristan pressed another kiss to her temple, lingering this time. "That's good to hear," he murmured, his voice softer now.

Barbara's breathing had finally evened out, her head resting against Tristan's chest, her fingers lazily tracing patterns along his forearm.

Tristan, still holding her close, let out a small chuckle. "So much for 'I always wake up before seven,' huh?" His voice was low, teasing, lips brushing against her temple as he spoke.

Barbara groaned, burying her face deeper into his chest. "Shut up," she mumbled, her voice still heavy with sleep.

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Tristan grinned, shifting slightly so he could press a soft kiss to the top of her head. "You were out cold, babe. I was standing over you for like, a full minute, waiting for you to wake up. Thought I was about to get kicked in the face."

Barbara sighed dramatically. "You scared the hell out of me, so I should've."

Tristan hummed, his fingers trailing down her spine in slow, lazy strokes. "You looked cute, though. All curled up, drooling a little—"

Barbara lifted her head instantly, narrowing her eyes. "I do not drool."

Tristan bit back a laugh. "Mmm. Sure."

But then—Barbara's stomach growled. Loudly.

Tristan raised an eyebrow. "Damn. That was aggressive."

Barbara groaned, covering her face. "Ignore it."

"Oh no, I'm definitely not ignoring it." He rolled out of bed, stretching slightly before tugging his shirt back into place. "Alright, what do you want?"

Barbara peeked at him through her fingers. "Room service?"

Tristan shook his head. "Nah, I'll go out and get something. Might as well pick up coffee and tea too."

Barbara frowned, pushing herself up onto her elbows. "You don't have to—"

Tristan shot her a look. "You need food."

Barbara sighed, but she couldn't argue with that. She tucked her knees up to her chest, watching him grab his hoodie. "Fine. Just... get me something with cheese. Or heavy cream."

Tristan froze mid-movement, turning to give her a slow, judgmental stare. "...Seriously?"

Barbara grinned, stretching her arms above her head. "Obviously."

Tristan groaned. "It's like you're actively trying to raise your cholesterol."

Barbara shrugged. "I like what I like, and let me eat my junk food in peace; I don't have to model or do any photoshoots for a while, so I don't worry about gaining weight or getting even more fat.

Tristan ran a hand down his face. "How many times do I have to tell you look like a goddess, perfection, and ignore those fucking idiots calling you a plus-size model? Do they not know what fat people look like?

Barbara scrunched her nose offended, "Tristan, don't say that."

Tristan huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he grabbed his keys. "Alright, fine. I'll find you something disgustingly rich in dairy."

Barbara beamed. "You're the best."

Tristan leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her lips before pulling back slightly. "I know."

Barbara rolled her eyes, but when he pulled away, she caught his wrist lightly. "Wait—what about you? What do you want?"

Tristan shrugged. "Probably just soup."

Barbara blinked. "Soup? For breakfast?"

Tristan smirked. "It's normal. I usually get wonton soup, but an English breakfast sounds good too."

Barbara tilted her head, watching him for a second. "...Wait."

Tristan raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Barbara's eyes narrowed slightly. "You're half Chinese."

Tristan stared at her, confused. "Yeah? And?"

Barbara shook her head. "I completely forgot."

Tristan scoffed, crossing his arms. "Babe, what—how do you just forget?"

Barbara pointed at him. "Look at you! Blonde curls, green eyes, pale as hell—what part of you looks remotely Asian?"

Tristan sighed. "Wow. Racist."

Barbara burst out laughing. "Oh, shut up."

Tristan stepping closer. "I'll have you know my dad is very Chinese. Just 'cause I got everything from my mom doesn't mean I don't have elite soup taste."

Barbara giggled, shaking her head. "Fine, fine. Go get your soup, Hale."

Tristan leaned in, pressing another kiss to her forehead before grabbing his keys. "I'll be back soon. Try not to starve while I'm gone."

An Hour Later..

Barbara sat cross-legged on the bed, scrolling through her phone while Tristan lay beside her, one arm draped casually over her thigh. Every now and then, she felt his fingers skim lightly against her skin, a slow, absentminded touch that sent small shivers up her spine.

"You know," she murmured, not looking up from her screen, "for someone who just inhaled an entire English breakfast, you seem very relaxed."

Tristan, lying on his back, eyes half-lidded with sleep, let out a low hum. "I am very relaxed," he muttered, squeezing her thigh lightly. "Which is exactly why I'm staying right here."

Barbara set her phone aside before shifting so she was hovering over him slightly. "So nothing could get you out of bed right now?"

Tristan cracked one eye open, his lips curling lazily. "Unless the hotel's on fire or Messi himself is outside asking for a kickabout, I'm not moving."

Barbara laughed, leaning down to brush a kiss against his jaw. "Hmm. Good to know."

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in the kind of warmth that made the rest of the world feel irrelevant.

Then—

Tristan's phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand.

Barbara groaned, letting her forehead fall against his shoulder. "No."

Tristan sighed, blindly reaching for it. "I swear if this is Vardy sending me another meme—"

His sentence trailed off as he unlocked his phone, eyes scanning the message.

Sophia: Restaurant at 1. We need to go over a few things. Don't be late.

Tristan exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. "Sophia wants to meet."

Barbara lifted her head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "Your Sophia or my Sophia?"

Tristan shot her a look. " I have one Sophia."

Barbara grinned, propping her chin on his chest. "Well, I have one too. And our Sophias text each other. Hell, we have a whole group chat."

"You what?"

Barbara rolled onto her side, grabbing her phone. "Yeah, we've texted a few times before. Your Sophia actually messaged mine first." She unlocked her screen, flipping it around so he could see a muted chat named The Real Bosses.

Tristan groaned, dragging a hand through his curls. "Oh my god."

Barbara giggled, scrolling up through the messages. "They mostly talk about us."

Tristan sighed, already regretting asking. "Do I even want to know?"

"Let's just say they think we're the assistants in this relationship." Barbara replied kissing him on the cheek.

Tristan scoffed.

Barbara hummed, stretching her arms above her head before flopping back against the pillows. "So, what's this meeting for?"

Tristan sighed, tossing his phone onto the bed. "Nothing major. Just a few things to go over. Usually, she'd come by the house, but..."

Barbara turned her head toward him, amused. "But you don't want me meeting your parents yet?"

Tristan pointed at her. "Exactly."

Barbara snorted, rolling onto her stomach to face him fully. "Are they that bad?"

Tristan exhaled. "Let's just say my mom would have our wedding planned before you even finished shaking her hand."

Barbara laughed, reaching over to playfully poke his ribs. "I have to meet her now."

Tristan groaned, rolling onto his side, trapping her hand against his chest. "One day," he muttered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Just... not today."

Barbara smirked, tilting her head up slightly so their lips almost brushed. "Fine," she murmured against his mouth. "But I'm going to need more details later."

Tristan chuckled, kissing her again, slow and teasing. "We'll see."

Barbara groaned dramatically, flopping onto her back as she stretched her arms over her head. "Do I have to go?"

Tristan, still propped on one elbow, gave her a pointed look. "Babe, why wouldn't you go?"

Barbara rolled her head toward him, raising an eyebrow. "Because it's your meeting? About your business?"

Tristan huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he leaned down, brushing a kiss against her collarbone before murmuring, "Our business."

Barbara narrowed her eyes, lips twitching. "Oh, so my contracts and brand deals are your business now?"

Tristan trailing his fingers lazily down her arm. "Absolutely."

Barbara scoffed. "Since when?"

Tristan grinned, shifting so he was half on top of her, his weight pressing her into the pillows. "Since I had to sit through you overthinking which shade of nude lipstick to wear for a campaign last week."

Barbara gasped, lightly shoving his shoulder. "That was important—"

Tristan just laughed, catching her hand and intertwining their fingers before pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "And this is important too. You're coming."

Barbara sighed, letting their hands drop onto the mattress. "Fine," she muttered, though there was no real protest in her tone.

Tristan nudging his nose against hers. "I love how hard you're pretending to be annoyed right now."

Barbara huffed, attempting to roll away, but Tristan just tightened his grip around her waist, keeping her locked against him. "Stop it,behave," she mumbled, her lips brushing against his jaw.

Tristan grinned, shifting slightly so he could kiss her properly, slow and deliberate, his thumb tracing soft circles against her hip.

When she finally pulled back, she exhaled, her fingers threading into his curls. "I should probably get ready, huh?"

"Unless you want to go in my hoodie and nothing else?" Tristan replied.

Barbara shot him a look, biting back a smile. "As fun as that would be, I think your Sophia would murder me."

Tristan chuckled, rolling onto his back as she sat up, stretching before sliding off the bed. "We've got time," he murmured, watching as she walked toward her suitcase.

Barbara hummed, glancing over her shoulder. "Enough time for a shower?"

Tristan's lips curled. "Only if I join you."

Barbara laughed, throwing a pillow at him. "Get dressed, Hale."

Tristan grinned, catching the pillow with ease before tossing it aside. "Fine, fine."

.

Barbara stood in front of the mirror, arms crossed as she surveyed her outfit with mild frustration. "Okay," she muttered, tilting her head slightly. "How cold is it actually gonna be? Because I swear, England has, like, five different temperatures in one day."

Tristan, already dressed in a fitted black shirt and brown trousers, he brought a few clothes with him, leaned casually against the doorframe, watching her struggle with clear amusement. "It's September. It's not freezing."

Barbara shot him a look through the mirror. "You say that now, but last night, I nearly turned into an ice cube walking from the car to the hotel." She huffed, digging through her suitcase. "I just don't wanna be that dumb tourist who underdresses and then suffers."

Tristan smirked, stepping closer and resting his chin on her shoulder. "You could just wear my hoodie again."

Barbara let out a dramatic sigh. "Tempting. But I also wanna look cute."

Tristan hummed, his fingers brushing along her waist as he pressed a quick kiss to her shoulder. "You always look cute and everything under the sun."

Barbara bit her lip, fighting back a smile as she finally settled on a cream turtleneck, tucking it into a pair of well-fitted jeans. "Okay. This should work."

Tristan leaned back against the bed, arms folded. "You're still gonna steal my jacket the second we step outside, aren't you?"

Barbara grinned, already slipping on her boots. "Obviously."

Tristan chuckled, shaking his head.

Barbara casually threw out, "By the way, I liked your outfit in Milan. The one Sophia picked for you."

Tristan blinked, pausing mid-motion. "What?"

Barbara smirked, flipping her hair over one shoulder as she grabbed her purse.

" You should let her dress you more often."

Tristan narrowed his eyes slightly. "How do you even know that?"

Barbara bit the inside of her cheek, clearly enjoying herself. "Sophia told me."

Tristan scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Of course, she did."

Barbara laughed, stepping closer and smoothing her hands over his chest. "Hey, don't get jealous. She just has good taste."

Tristan exhaled, grabbing her wrists lightly. "Nah, what I'm jealous of is how you and my assistant have apparently been having full-on fashion discussions behind my back."

Barbara grinned, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips. "Oh. You have no idea what we talk about."

Tristan groaned, tugging her closer by the waist. "I don't know if I should be scared or impressed."

Barbara hummed, resting her chin on his chest. "Little bit of both."

Tristan sighed, shaking his head before kissing her forehead. "Let's go before I regret letting you two meet."

..

Leicester's midday sun filtered through the car windows, casting warm streaks of light across the dashboard. The city outside buzzed with life, but inside the car, everything felt calm, easy. Barbara scrolled through her phone lazily, her legs tucked up slightly on the seat.

"So," she mused, tilting her head, "what exactly are we going over with Sophia?"

Tristan flicked his gaze toward her before looking back at the street ahead. "Nothing crazy. Just my schedule, sponsorships, finalizing my team... private chef, dietitian, security."

Barbara hummed, nodding along—until the last part registered. "Hold on. Back up. Security?"

Tristan, as if sensing the immediate shift in her tone, chuckled but didn't look away from the road. "Yeah. Figured it was time to get everything sorted properly. Chef, dietitian, bodyguard—"

"For both of us?" she cut in, her eyebrows lifting.

Tristan nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Obviously. I don't want you living off cheese and heavy cream for the rest of your life."

Barbara gasped, pressing a hand to her chest dramatically. "Wow. The disrespect."

Tristan fought back a grin. "Just stating facts.."

Barbara narrowed her eyes, pointing a finger at him. "You better watch yourself. I will throw you out of this moving vehicle."

Tristan laughed, shaking his head as he changed lanes. "Look, I'm just saying, it wouldn't hurt to have a professional making sure we're both eating right. You know, like an actual adult."

Barbara huffed but didn't argue, instead staring out the window for a moment before exhaling. "Fine. The dietitian, I'll accept. I can see how much this is actually worrying you."

Tristan glanced at her briefly, his lips twitching. "Yeah?"

Barbara rolled her eyes. "Yeah. But don't think for a second I'm letting you control what I eat. I'm still eating cheese whenever I want."

Tristan shook his head with a small chuckle. "If you're agreeing to the dietitian, you should just say yes to the bodyguard, too."

Barbara's smile vanished instantly. "No."

"Yes."

"Tristan."

"Barbara."

She turned fully toward him, eyes sharp. "I don't need a bodyguard."

Tristan scoffed, smoothly maneuvering around a slower car. "And I don't need one either, but I'm getting one. People know we're together now. That kind of attention can turn dangerous fast."

Barbara sighed, crossing her arms. "I've been fine this whole time."

Tristan shot her a pointed look. "Yeah? You jumped like I was a serial killer when I walked into your hotel room this morning."

Barbara frowned, shifting in her seat. "That's different. I wasn't fully awake. I just—overreacted."

Tristan's fingers tapped against the steering wheel, his voice dropping slightly. "And what if it hadn't been me? What if it was some obsessed fan who managed to get your room number? What if someone was waiting for you?"

Barbara fell quiet.

Tristan sighed, his hand brushing her thigh lightly, grounding her. "Look, I know you don't like the idea of security following you around. But I'd rather have someone there just in case, than be sitting here hoping nothing bad ever happens."

Barbara exhaled slowly, playing with the hem of her sleeve. "I just don't like the idea of it, Tristan. I don't want to feel like I'm being babysat."

"It's not babysitting," he murmured, squeezing her thigh gently. "It's making sure you're safe. That's all."

She shook her head. "I can handle it myself. If I want security, I'll get it on my own time."

Tristan snorted. "Oh yeah? And you're just gonna pull a bodyguard out of thin air?"

Barbara scowled. "I can afford one."

Tristan let out a sharp laugh. "Babe, I might've looked a little too deep into you after Milan."

Barbara gave him a wary glance. "What does that mean?"

Tristan's lips twitched. "According to Google, you don't even have more than 300,000 in your bank account."

Barbara gasped, smacking his arm. "Tristan Hale! You did not just Google my net worth."

Tristan chuckled, completely unbothered. "I absolutely did."

Barbara groaned, sinking into her seat, covering her face with both hands. "That's humiliating."

Tristan grinned. "Nah, it's kinda cute."

Barbara peeked at him through her fingers. "You are the absolute worst. I swear, you're the most persistent man I've ever met."

"And I'm gonna keep pushing until you see my side of things," he added, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

Barbara sighed, glancing out the window. "This conversation isn't over."

Tristan just leaned over at the next red light, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. "Didn't think it was."

Barbara muttered something in Hungarian under her breath, making Tristan laugh as he pulled onto the main road.

Tristan would get her to agree eventually.

She huffed, still pretending to be annoyed, but then her lips quirked slightly. "At least I finally get to meet your Sophia in person."

"And I'm already regretting it," Tristan mused, making a turn. "You two texting was bad enough. Now you'll be in the same room?"

Barbara smirked, flipping her hair dramatically. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. We've already been planning your wardrobe together. Honestly, you should be grateful."

Tristan groaned, shaking his head. "I knew it. You're both plotting against me."

"Obviously."

Tristan muttered something under his breath, but she could see the small smile playing at the corner of his lips as they arrived at the restaurant.

The restaurant was tucked away from the busiest parts of Leicester, offering privacy without feeling too isolated. It had a sleek, modern interior—warm lighting, dark wood accents, and just enough elegance to make it feel high-end without being obnoxious. The hostess led them toward a secluded section near the back, where a familiar figure was already waiting.

Sophia sat at the table, tablet in front of her, one hand wrapped around a steaming cup of tea. Her blonde hair was pulled into a sleek high ponytail, and her crisp white blouse was perfectly tucked into a tailored navy blazer.

As soon as she spotted them, she stood, offering a polite but genuine smile. "Finally, we meet in person."

Barbara returned the smile, shaking Sophia's hand. "Right? When I first heard Tristan's assistant was also named Sophia, I thought he was messing with me." She shot him a look. "Because that definitely seems like something you'd do."

Tristan exhaled, shaking his head as he pulled out a chair. "Jesus, you two have been talking for two minutes and you're already ganging up on me."

Sophia smirked, sitting back down. "To be fair, that does sound like something you'd do."

Barbara grinned. "Exactly."

Tristan groaned, rubbing his temple. "I hate this dynamic already."

Barbara leaned into her seat, clearly enjoying herself. "You'll survive."

Sophia chuckled, flipping open her tablet. "Alright, let's get to business before you two completely derail this meeting. Tristan, everything is ready for your team. You just need to sign off on everything and meet with them to make sure they're the right fit."

She pulled out a folder, sliding it across the table to him. Tristan picked it up, flipping through the documents.

"John Steve is your security lead. Former SAS, experienced in personal protection. Felix Gordon—your private chef—worked at Noma, so you're getting Michelin-star quality meals every day. And Soma Begum is your dietitian. She specializes in athlete nutrition and high-performance meal plans."

Barbara raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you got yourself an elite team."

Tristan hummed, still skimming the documents. "Yeah, they seem solid."

Sophia nodded. "They are. I've met with all of them personally. John has extensive experience handling high-profile clients, Felix insisted on full creative freedom in the kitchen, and Soma is strict but extremely effective."

Tristan glanced up. "Perfect. Let's set up meetings so I can finalize it."

Sophia made a note on her tablet. "Already ahead of you."

Barbara took a sip of her water, leaning back in her chair. "Looks like you're all set, then."

Tristan tapped his fingers against the folder, thinking for a second before shifting his gaze to Sophia. "Find someone for Barbara too."

Barbara blinked. "Excuse me?"

Sophia, already expecting this, simply nodded and made another note. "I can start looking—"

"No, you can't," Barbara cut in, turning to Tristan. "We've already talked about this."

Tristan gave her a look. "Yeah, and I've already told you I don't care. You need one."

Barbara crossed her arms. "I don't."

Sophia glanced between them, sipping her tea. "Should I... pretend I'm not here?"

Tristan ignored her, his gaze still locked on Barbara. "You think I'm gonna be fine knowing you're walking around with no security while people are taking photos of you everywhere? It's not happening."

Barbara exhaled sharply, her patience thinning. "Tristan, I appreciate that you care. I really do. But I'm not having a bodyguard follow me around everywhere like I'm some fragile celebrity."

"It wouldn't be everywhere," Tristan countered. "Just for certain situations. When I'm not with you. When you're in crowded places. When you're traveling alone. It's basic protection, Barbara."

She shook her head, refusing to back down. "If I want a bodyguard, I'll get one when I decide I need one."

Tristan scoffed. "Right. Because you totally have the budget for that."

Barbara's mouth dropped open. "Oh my God—are you seriously bringing up my bank account again?"

"I'm just saying."

Barbara groaned, rubbing her temples.

Tristan leaned forward slightly, voice calmer but firm. "I just want to make sure you're safe. That's it."

Sophia, who had been watching the exchange like a tennis match, finally cleared her throat. "Okay, so... I'll hold off on that for now?"

Barbara pointed at her. "Yes."

Tristan shot Sophia a look. "Temporarily."

Sophia sighed. "Got it. No guarantees, but noted."

Barbara rolled her eyes, but Tristan laughed holding her hand.

As the tension from their back-and-forth over the bodyguard settled, Sophia exhaled, tapping a few notes into her tablet before shifting the conversation. "Alright, moving on to something you'll actually like—Burberry and Mendes have finalized an agreement to sign you as one of their faces."

Tristan raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. "That was fast."

Sophia smirked. "They wanted to lock you in before someone else did."

Barbara, sipping her water, perked up. "Wait, Burberry?"

Sophia nodded. "Yep. They're bringing him on as one of their lead faces. The deal's for three years, and they want him for both campaigns and exclusive product collaborations."

Barbara's eyes flickered between Sophia and Tristan. "So... how much are we talking?"

Sophia's expression didn't change, but there was a hint of amusement in her tone. "That depends on how much Tristan wants to push back, but as of now, the offer is sitting at around £12-15 million for three years."

Tristan's brows lifted slightly. "Not bad."

Barbara nearly choked on her drink. "Not bad?" She turned to him, incredulous. "Tristan, that's insane."

Sophia chuckled. "It's the right price. He's one of the most famous players in England, widely seen as the Premier League's best at nineteen, and has the looks of a model. Factor in the younger generation's obsession with him, and yeah—Burberry sees the long-term value."

Barbara shook her head. "And to think you were running around in an academy jersey two years ago."

Tristan stretched arms behind his head. "What can I say? Glow-ups are real." Not counting the system and dying and then coming back to the past, a glow-up indeed.

Sophia ignored his arrogance, scrolling through her notes. "If you sign, there'll be some ad and promo shoots as early as next week. They want to strike while your name is everywhere."

Tristan nodded, unfazed. "Fine by me. Just let me know the schedule."

Barbara raised an eyebrow. "So, wait—you're just casually agreeing to be the face of Burberry? Just like that?"

Tristan shrugged. "Babe, they're giving me millions to stand around and look good in a trench coat. It's not that complicated."

Barbara scoffed, muttering under her breath.

Sophia smirked, glancing between the two. "I'll go ahead and tell them you're in. I'll also set up a call later in the week to go over specifics—shoot locations, contract details, and any obligations beyond the usual promo."

Tristan gave her a lazy nod. "Sounds good."

Barbara, still recovering from the sheer scale of the deal, shook her head in disbelief. "I need a drink."

Tristan chuckled, reaching for his water. " You're dating a walking brand now. Get used to it."

Barbara rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't let it get to your head."

Tristan shoot her a wink. "Too late."

Before Sophia wrapped up, she scrolled through her tablet one last time, tapping her fingernail against the screen. "Oh, and one more thing—I'm finalizing the house search. I've narrowed it down to a few places that fit everything you wanted, so you'll have to start making decisions soon."

Barbara blinked, tilting her head. "Wait, house search?"

Tristan leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his drink before glancing at her. "Yeah. That's one of the main reasons I'm leaving my parents' place. Privacy, space, and, you know... not having to sneak around just to see you."

Barbara smirked. "So you're moving out just for me?"

Tristan shot her a look. "You think I'd be putting up with all this house-hunting stress if it weren't for you?"

Well, that wasn't the complete truth; he just wanted to give his parents space to breathe with all the attention he brings. Being together with Barbara also gives him an excuse to his parents who would be heartbroken at him moving already.

Sophia, barely holding in a laugh, shook her head. "Well, now that Barbara's in the picture, she can help decide." She glanced at Barbara. "Since, you know... you're clearly going to be spending a lot of time there."

Barbara hummed, tapping a finger against her chin. "Ooooh. I get a say?"

Tristan scoffed, setting his glass down. "Not too much of a say. You'd have me living in a fashion museum."

Barbara grinned. "Don't tempt me."

Sophia rolled her eyes. "I'll send you both the final list later today. Just go through them and let me know what works."

Tristan nodded. "Yeah, yeah. We'll check them out."

Sophia gave them a knowing look before standing up. "Great. Well, that's everything for now. I'll leave you two alone."

Barbara watched as she grabbed her things, a smirk playing on her lips. "You sure you don't wanna stay? Tristan loves when we gang up on him."

Tristan scoffed, crossing his arms. "Get out, Sophia."

Sophia chuckled, sending them a small wave before disappearing down the hall.

..

They spent the rest of the day out turning into a date before heading back to the hotel.

Tristan turned into the hotel parking lot, smoothly pulling into a space near the entrance. He cut the engine, but neither of them moved right away.

The moment they stepped into her suite, Barbara let out a sigh, kicking off her shoes as she ran a hand through her hair. Tristan, meanwhile, was already making himself comfortable, pulling off his shirt and swapping it for a plain white T-shirt like he owned the place.

Barbara arched an eyebrow, arms crossed. "Wow. Just making yourself at home, huh?"

Tristan, completely unfazed, stretched out on the bed, patting the empty space beside him. "Obviously."

Barbara rolled her eyes, but she climbed in anyway, curling against him as he pulled the blanket over them. His arm slid around her waist, anchoring her against his chest like it was second nature.

She exhaled, resting her head against his heart, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. "I like this," she admitted softly.

Tristan pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Me too."

The room was quiet, save for the muffled sounds of the city outside and the occasional rustle of sheets as they shifted.

Barbara's fingers traced idle patterns against his forearm. "You know... you never once suggested I stop working."

Tristan frowned slightly, running his hand along her back. "Why would I?"

Barbara shrugged, her voice thoughtful. "Because you're... you. Because you're stupidly rich, and some guys in your position would expect their girlfriend to just drop everything and live off them."

Tristan's grip on her waist tightened slightly. "That's not me. I don't want to take anything away from you. If anything, I want to share everything with you."

Barbara exhaled, tilting her head to look at him. "And I want to do the same."

Tristan smiled slightly, his fingers brushing her jaw. "Good."

Barbara studied him for a moment, then let her head fall back against his chest. "You're really moving out."

Tristan hummed, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head. "Yeah. And you're helping me pick the house, so if it turns out ugly, that's on you."

Barbara let out a soft laugh, nudging his side. "Excuse me? I have great taste."

Tristan chuckled, pressing a lazy kiss to her temple. "Guess we'll see."

For a while, they just laid there, wrapped up in each other, comfortable in the warmth of the moment.

Then, Barbara shifted slightly, resting her chin against his chest. "Tristan?"

He ran a hand through her hair, fingers slow and gentle. "Yeah?"

She hesitated. "How do we make this work?"

Tristan's fingers paused for a beat before continuing their slow movements along her spine. "You mean us?"

Barbara nodded.

He exhaled, pressing another kiss to the top of her head. "We figure it out."

Barbara sighed, shifting so she could look at him properly. "I don't want to just 'figure it out.' I want us to be sure. To know what we're doing."

Tristan studied her for a long moment. "Okay."

Barbara tucked her hair behind her ear, brows furrowing slightly. "This is going to be long-distance for a while. I don't want that to ruin us before we even start."

Tristan's grip on her waist tightened. "It won't."

Barbara searched his expression, looking for something—anything—that reassured her. "Promise me."

Tristan didn't even hesitate. "I promise."

Barbara exhaled, resting her forehead against his. "I don't want to be one of those couples that barely talk. I want us to check in, call, FaceTime—every day, whenever we can. I want to see you. At least one of us flies out every two to three weeks."

Tristan nodded, his hand coming up to cradle her cheek. "Done."

Barbara swallowed, voice quieter now. "And no cheating. No lies. No bullshit. If this is real, if we're really doing this... I want us to be all in."

Tristan, his green eyes locking onto hers. "Barbara. That's not even a question."

Barbara studied him carefully, and there it was—that unwavering certainty in his expression. She sighed, closing her eyes briefly before pressing her lips to his.

Tristan kissed her back instantly, slow and steady, like he was pouring his promise into the way he held her.

When they pulled apart, Barbara traced her fingers along his jaw. "Okay."

Tristan kissed her again, softer this time. "Okay."

And just like that, the weight on her chest lifted.

.....

6311 need them stones

We have one more Chapter for now that is so focused on Tristan and Barbara since they have just started dating, and I wanted to build a strong foundation before anything else.

I think the Greatest of All Time has fucking traumatized me with its main character and his relationship with his girlfriend. I don't want to write anything even close to it, so I just wanted to focus on Tristan and Barbara for a few Chapters, and I kind of went overboard with it.

Also, everything about Barbara in this Chapter is true; god, I know too much about her; someone help me.