Title: Secret Admirer
Summary: Shawn Michaels comes back from his four-year hiatus and finds he's inspired many. One in a slightly different way than others.
Note: Okay, starts at the Raw on June 3. Each separate letter comes on a Raw episode, but letters are _not shown on TV_. Slightly AU for the actual shows; I occasionally ignore appearances by Shawn/add in appearances for Shawn/do same for Matt.
Kevin opened the door, allowing the newest nWo member through. Shawn ducked under his friend's arm, still exhilarated on the audience's response to his return. His eyes fell on the former Giant and he let out a grin.
"It's great to see you, man!" Show exclaimed, bounding over as well as he could to give him a hug.
Shawn rolled his eyes, but was secretly pleased at Paul's reaction. "So where's this new member, Kev? And where's Pac?" he questioned.
"Booker?" Kevin questioned.
"Yeah, where's this newest addition to the Kliq?"
"He's already gone home," Show reported. "Doesn't like mixing with the wrestling folk. Thinks our 'oddities' might rub off on him."
Shawn snorted. "What's life without a little chaos?"
"Speaking of chaos...the writers are planning to make you a big in-ring return. Apparently you get a big challenge for Summmerslam. Writers aren't decided yet."
Shawn raised an eyebrow. "So your tellin' me I could get the Undertaker, or I could get the modern equivalent of Stone Cold?"
"Actually," Show corrected. "Stone Cold's still around, and unless you've gotten extremely chummy with McMahon...and I mean rockin' the bed chummy...I don't think you've got much hope of a title shot."
"Undertaker's the champ?" Shawn questioned. "I bet Mark's happy about that."
"Extremely." Kev let his grin slowly slide. "Bet Undertaker wasn't too happy with Jeff Hardy," he mused.
"The whole vomit deal?" Paul questioned. "Mark's gonna be kicking himself for suggesting that idea. I don't think he knew that the writers had Jeffers in mind. There's got to be a fight somewhere down the road for Undertaker versus Hardy."
"Seriously, Jeff and Mark are gonna hafta spend a lot of time planning that match so it looks believably without even one real punch," Nash continued.
"Okay, I am now getting really lost. A little help here?" the Heartbreak Kid asked.
"Mark and Jeff are going together. Pac and Triple Paulie occasionally get together. Glenn's off, no fun for John Layfield, Guererro's so obsessed I'm surprised he hasn't proposed to himself yet, Stevie Richards and the former male Jazz are happy together..." Kev rattled off. "Actually, if you're planning to ask someone out, don't. Until you ask everyone around them whether they're single or not, otherwise you'll get put back on the tracks to recovery again."
Shawn nodded, sweeping his hair to the side as he pulled his shirt over his head. He walked slowly to the lockers, saying over his shoulder, "Nah, believe me, single life's the best place right now for me." He stopped talking as he opened the door, and slowly picked up a piece of paper.
Kev called, "Well, if you wanna see him, Pac's in the infirmary, but we're going out. You comin' to celebrate?"
Shawn still was quiet, but shook his head and yelled back, "Nah. I'll get a lift from someone here."
"If you insist." He heard the sound of an opening door, and the sounds of Show's and Kev's feet. Then he was alone.
Shawn unfolded the piece of paper with the words 'HBK-Shawn Michaels' written on them clearly.
He read:
'Dear Shawn.
Congratulations on your return. Right now I'm watching your friend Nash's little advertisement thing onscreen, but I know it's a new member, and I know it's you who's joining the New World Order. We've met, very briefly. I think we were introduced backstage, once. Of course, occasionally we were both escorts, but that's another story. Oh but I sincerely hope you are wearing those shorts…Paul was right about two years ago, at the Ironman Match you refereed. You did look like you were smuggling bananas in those shorts. (But hey, if you've got 'em…)
Again congratulations on your return. Last but not least, I hope I get to watch you compete in the ring. Even sweeter would be if somehow I got to watch at ringside.
Love
A not-so-secret admirer.
(Clue: the extremist.)'
Shawn raised his eyebrows, glancing around like whoever it was was watching him.
Matt winced at the doctor's insisted prodding. "Doc, I'm fine," he snapped. "I told you, I just want some freakin' ice!"
Sean raised his head. "Yo doc, don't pester him. You know that guy you replaced, the dude who quit and then sued the company?" The nameless doctor nodded. "That man right there is responsible for it. The old dude insisted on babying Hardy here, and got a nice old black eye outta it."
The doctor sent a look at the ticked off Hardy, before realizing he should probably take Sean's advice. He quickly skipped out of the way as Matt sent a fist flying, and skedaddled out the door and down the corridor.
Matt gazed out the door with a reflective look on his face. "You know," he started. "I never said sorry to that other dude." He caught Sean's eye, and both Superstars burst out laughing.
"Oh dude," Sean finally chuckled, wiping the beginnings of a tear out of his eye. "I'll never forget the look on your face after Vinnie-Mac told us that other dude was suing."
"Hey, it's in the rulebook!" Matt protested weakly.
Sean joined him in repeating the contract _everyone_ who even came in contact with the WWE signed. "'Stipulation Eighty-Two, if in any way I should be harmed for loss of property, damages or personal endangerment by working for this company I cannot hold anyone accountable, but will have free rights to hazard pay.'"
"That guy obviously didn't read the fine print," Matt smiled. He lost his grin, pressing the ice absently against his bicep. "What're you here for?"
"Goldust was pretty stiff tonight," Sean said with a smile.
"Ouch, the Bronco Buster?" Matt questioned. 'Pac' nodded. "Saw that, he did it wrong," Matt reflected, before glancing towards the door. A couple of seconds later Sean glanced up too, the sounds of footsteps coming starting up in his ears.
"I always wanted to ask you this man, but how do you always know when someone's coming?" Sean asked.
"What, before everyone else?" Sean nodded. "Back home we got lotsa' forest, and you've gotta have good ears to tell whether or not that noise you hear is a cute little chipmunk or a brown bear. Then you've gotta have good runnin' skills," Mat joked.
Sean laughed heartily as the door cracked open. Sean was on the right side of the room to see who was coming in, and happily he called out "Shawn!" before jumping off the bed and bouncing to the door.
Shawn Michaels laughed as the man the world knew as X-Pac jumped at him like a kid. "Hey kid, don't take me down for the three count," he chuckled.
X-Pac grinned, already turning to introduce Shawn to the other man in the infirmary. His eyebrow rose as he saw Matt staring steadily at his upper arm, holding the ice on it so hard his fingertips were going white. Sean filed the information into the back of his head for later revival, and bounced towards Matt.
"Shawn, this is Matt, Matt, this is Shawn," X-Pac said, plopping down onto his bed. He started firing questions at Shawn, who was forced to look away from the top of Matt's head.
"Um, I knew I'd be coming back for a while, no, I thought it'd be a revival of D-X, and yes I enjoy the WWE today," Shawn answered in order. "How've you been going, kid?" he questioned Sean.
"Fun, everything's fine. Since…then, I've gotten the light-heavyweight belt, and fought with just about everyone on the roster…even watched some damn good matches in the back."
Shawn raised an eyebrow. "The Showstoppa's got competition, now?" he questioned.
Sean laughed, nodding at Matt. "If that one's got anything to say about it, oh hell yeah!" He changed course slightly. "Watch Wrestlmania X-Seven?"
Shawn nodded. His eyes suddenly widened, falling on the top of Matt's head. Matt stared steadily at his arm. "The TLC series was you?" he exclaimed.
"Yep," Sean answered for the silent Hardy. "Him, his little brother, Dudleys and Edge and Christian. We all had a lot of fun watching that one."
Shawn returned his eyes to the black head. "So it's _your_ brother Jeff who's in the 'line with Mark."
Matt nodded silently, still gazing obstinately at his arm instead of the Heartbreak Kid.
Sean's brow wrinkled. Matt was usually so talkative when there were people around interested in him; this was really unlike Matt to pretty much ignore Shawn.
Shawn nodded, unaware of Matt's unusual behaviour. "Sean, you ready to go?" he questioned.
"Yep." Sean shot Matt another look, and was surprised when Matt caught it, finally looking up.
"Hope to see you again soon, Matt," Shawn said over his shoulder, unaware Matt had looked up for the first time.
Matt watched X-Pac step out of the room, following his friend, before uttering quietly, "Maybe a lot more than you think."
Dear Shawn.
You're probably getting sick of these notes, huh? Well, can you blame me for any of this? I mean, one look at you would make any other nice southern boy cream his cargoes, how could you blame me? Hopefully you don't, but I hope you don't think I'm stalkin' you or something. I'm not _that_ obsessed with you. Just got a crush the size of Australia…
You don't know who this is still, do you? If extremist doesn't point straight to a couple'a people, then I can't do much more for you. Or maybe you're just ignoring these letters, your friends and you too wrapped up in your triumphant return to worry about some mid-carder sending the Showstoppa notes.
If you don't want these notes anymore, don't wear a baseball cap in your next promo. Otherwise these notes'll keep coming until either you kick mah ass, or someone finds me out.
Love
You-don't-know-who.
Shawn patted X-Pac on the back. "Dude, that was an awesome match," he complimented. He absently shifted his cap so he could see better, his lines said until McMahon burst in. He thought absently of the note he had recently found in his bag, the simple printing somehow more personal than delicate script. The superstar couldn't say he disliked the attention; who didn't like someone admiring them? Plus the mystery of who this person was wouldn't let him give up these...fan letters, for lack of a better word.
McMahon came in, and Shawn stood, delivering his somewhat stupid line of "Hey, it's Vinnie-Mac."
The promo continued, Nash receiving a match later on that night with Goldust and Big Show with a Booker T opponent. Shawn sat with a sigh once it had ended, his mind returning to the note. Okay, time to play detective. Both notes said the person was an extremist. That narrowed it down, quite a lot. He had been an escort…so he was part of a wrestling group, like the Four Horsemen or somethin'. 'Other nice southern boy'…someone from the south, which didn't exactly narrow it down. Most of the high flyers came from the south. Mid-carder, someone with moderate or above success…no world titles in other words. Shawn shrugged. Maybe wait for one more note and figure it out?
Dear Shawn
These notes starting to get annoying? Too bad. Anyways…what to talk about, what to talk about…I really hope you wrestle again soon, if you are, 'cause that's pretty much why I got into wrestling, the Showstoppa inspiration. Got many a bruise wrestling and trying to be exactly like you…black and blue. You've cost me a pretty penny in the last couple of weeks…had to go out and buy almost every DVD that could possibly have you on it, like the funniest moments one, and this Wrestlemania highlights one that only goes up to 1999, and only shows a clip of the main event 2000. So in other words I can't see myself on the DVD, which really sucks. My apologies, actually, for writing these notes like this…you know at the next arena we're at for Raw…Cleveland, Gund Arena…there's one guy who sits in the main hallway for almost the entire show, unless he's got a match, then he's only away for thirty minutes, at most. Anyways, you want more of these notes, go up to him and tell him. Yeesh, I've really yabberred on, haven't I?
Love always.
Cameron. (No, my name isn't Cameron.)
Shawn wrinkled his nose, re-reading the previous note. Here he was in the Gund Arena, and no idea where in the main hall he was supposed to see this guy. He saw a duo sitting on the anvil cases, both striking but for different reasons. One had vibrant coloured hair, and was gestating wildly, showing off his painted fingernails. He had on a white wife-beater and long cargoes, and his mind stopped. _Cargoes…'make any other nice southern boy cream his cargoes'…was with somebody…escort…_ His mind was frozen, rolling at the same time. As he refocused, he saw the bright one look up and see him. Green eyes grew wide, then a smile crept on the wildly done face. Green makeup was smeared on the guy's forehead reaching down to his eyes, and Shawn could see red and black markings on both arms, either tattoos or body paint. The man tapped the person next to him on the arm, and the second man rolled his head, indicating he was listening but had his eyes closed. The coloured one said something, then hopped up and off, almost bouncing down the corridor away from his friend.
Shawn inwardly let out an expletive, thinking he had just lost his only contact to his mysterious admirer. He glanced at the only man remaining with a silent sigh and then plopped down on the case next to him. The guy's eyes snapped open, then realizing who it was, slowly closed again.
"Tell X-Pac Ah didn't steal whatever it is, Big Kev that it wasn't me who planted the dye in his conditioner, or Show that Ah'm sorry about the bad legdrop."
Shawn sat up a little, not expecting a quick flurry of words from the seemingly comatose man. His companion leaned his head back to the wall, exposing the soft skin of his neck, and allowed the former Degenerate to check out the person he was sitting next to.
The man wore plain, faded denim jeans, and had on a black mesh shirt that kind of shimmered whenever he moved. The only decoration on his body was a ball-and-chain necklace with a 'HB' symbol on it; a symbol that was somehow familiar to him, and he wracked his brain for it. He had black hair, pulled back into a ponytail, with wispy bits escaping every which way.
"Ah'm Matt Hardy," the man said in response to an unasked question. He moved his head to the side, his eyes almost staring a hole right through his 'lids. His lips moved into a smile that made Shawn's heart jump. "And you're the Heartbreak Kid."
"Nice to know my reputation precedes me," Shawn said, settling back on the box. "I met you in the infirmary, didn't I?" he questioned.
Matt nodded, his eyes still closed. "You want to ask me something more, or do we just sit here in silence?" he questioned. "'Cause Ah'll be stayin' here all night, just by way've warning."
Shawn nodded silently, his bouncy nature finally taking a rest. He leaned back, his legs crossed at the ankle, and the position he was in would have allowed him to go to sleep, had he been sure that his environment was safe. Of course, his choices for a pillow were either the wall or the man sitting next to him, but Shawn wasn't sure which one would be more uncomfortable.
"So who was that?" Shawn questioned, breaking the silence after a few minutes. Matt rolled his head down the hall, following the path of his friend.
"That was Jeff," he answered blandly. "Gone somewhere, probably to make out with Mark. Not time for Raw yet."
"Doesn't he stay with you?" he questioned, his mind already running overtime.
"Nope. Ah'm the only person Ah know of in any arena that just sits in one spot the whole night," he said, with a little half-smile on his face.
Shawn raised an eyebrow. "Um, why?"
"This is what Ah refer to as 'the hall'," Matt said, lifting his hand for quotation marks. "Big place full of nostalgia. Right out there is where Jeff an' Ah had our first eveh ladder match, at No Mercy in 1999. Me an' Jeff versus Edge and Christian. Pulled off a lotta' sweet stuff, like a legdrop over a ladder, sweet li'l seesaw thing, dropkicks, spear from the ladder, poetry in motion. You get the drift."
"So what else's happened in your career?" Shawn questioned absently after a beat of silence, the soft drawl of the superstar next to him meeting some part of him and soothing it into quiet.
"Well, both me an' Jeff 'ave been five time tag champs, and one WCW tag champs. I've been European an' Hardcore champ, and Jeff's been Intercontinental, Light Heavyweight and Hardcore champ." Matt snorted slightly. "You should'a seen the hardcore match me an' Jeff had. Pretty wicked stuff. Then me an' Lita got into a romance ang'e, then the Hardy Boyz broke up. You might've seen us figh'in' on Vengeance, bu' no one wanted to see the boyz break up. So, we made a triumphan' return at the Royal Rumble an' No Way Ou'. And…" He shrugged. "We both got drafted to Raw."
Shawn whistled. He had gone off Federation television after he'd left, and had only started watching the PPVs around No Way Out 2001. He hadn't started watching normal WWF programming until late December, and so had missed the entire Hardy saga.
Suddenly something struck him. "Hang on," he said slowly. "You said _you're_ the one who sits here all night?"
Matt nodded, a grin creeping over his face.
"You're the one I've got to see, aren't you?"
Matt nodded again.
"Well, do you tell me who my 'admirer' is or not?"
Matt sniffed, touching Shawn's arm lightly. His eyes were still closed. "You've got the last letter, don'tcha?"
Shawn pulled it out; the paper crinkled more than he could remember. He pressed it into the younger man's hand, Matt accepting it quickly. By touch alone he unfolded the note; running his fingers over the writing imprints on the back he even got the writing facing the right way.
"There's this one guy who sits in the hall for the entire show, unless he's got a match. Anyway, if you want more of these notes, go up to him and tell him," Matt quoted easily, not having to open his eyes. Shawn stared at him, open-mouthed. _This guy a psychic?_
"Nowhere does it say Ah actually tell you who it is," Matt said, running his fingers over the writing like he was reading through his fingers.
Shawn shrugged, then realized Matt wouldn't see him. "Seemed like a read-through-the-line thing. I show up, tell you whatever, you tell me, I confront whoever it is…"
Matt shrugged back, a soft smile touching his lips. "Can't tell you his name. Can tell you the answer to a lot of questions though."
Shawn raised an eyebrow. "How do I know you'll tell the truth?"
Matt raised his right hand. "Scout's honor." He snickered. "Of course, I never was a scout…"
"Uh huh…is he cute?"
"I suppose so. Clashing features, but still cute. Got a fanbase of adoring girls, anyway." Matt settled back on he wall.
"Do I get any background info on him? Like where he grew up?"
Matt smiled lightly. "He grew up in Cameron…that's where he got the name at the bottom…North Carolina. No momma, dad was at work mostly. Visually got into wrestling around Wrestlemania IV. Kept watching, and suddenly saw this slim, beautiful man on TV. Followed the man's career, cheered like mad when he got the Intercontinental belt. Got into the WWF a coupl'a years ago, had a couple'a 'career-defin'in'' matches, and is now considered a pretty high midcarder."
Shawn whistled, the soft accent slowly lulling him into a soft, dreamy state. "He attached?"
Matt grinned softly, innocently. "Nope. One of…I think about five who aren't in this company."
"Okay," Shawn murmured, all stress from earlier that day seeping out under the smooth pressure of this man's southern drawl. "Sleeping now…"
He was surprised to feel a soft shoulder being offered to him from the side, but he leaned into the larger man. Warmth spread out, revoking his opinion that this man was cold and fairly uncaring. He glanced up once, but hitting only black, he shut his eyes and gave into the dark.
Matt smiled softly as Shawn met his gaze, then settled down on his side. He vaguely felt he should be a little offended that the guy fell asleep while they were talking, but he really couldn't care less. He slowly slipped an arm around the Heartbreak Kid, the Showstoppa moving into the warmth. He smiled gently, touching his lips to the top of Shawn's head. "He's attached to you," Matt whispered.
Shawn yawned quietly, his eyes blinking open sleepily. He was warm…very warm. He shifted a bit, and became aware of a soft weight gently settled on his shoulder. Gently he tried to move away slightly, and the arm was removed.
"Sorry 'bout that," a soft Southern voice apologized. "You looked a li'l like you needed a good sleep."
Shawn yawned again, stretching a little to accommodate the new space. "I did," he admitted. "Thanks for being such a good pillow."
The man laughed softly. "I'm used to it."
Shawn glanced up again, to his surprise the man's eyes open and looking at him. He studied the brown eyes, ringed with black and tinged in dark colours towards the center. Matt blinked shyly, averting his eyes for a moment before looking back at him. Shawn shook his head quickly, trying to get the last remnants of sleep out of his mind.
"So how long was I out?" Shawn questioned, rubbing the back of his head. He never was good at waking up; it took him a while to get alert.
"Ah'm not sure. Jeff's match is going though, right about now he'll be gettin' chokeslammed, Ah think. I need to go get ready to attack Raven. You wanna get a drink or somethin' afterwards?" Matt offered. "My shout. You can find out more about your admirer."
Shawn considered it. "I don't think I've got anything else to do."
Matt smiled genuinely, getting up and off and offering a hand to the Showstoppa. "It's a date."
Raven stormed through the door, slamming it and anything in his path with his bag. "It's bull! Ack, this is so unfair!" he protested.
Turning the corner, he stopped as he spotted Matt Hardy lying on his rental car. A feral grin was on Matt's face as he lunged forward, tackling Raven in a move any gridiron player would be proud of. After ramming him a few times into the garage door, he threw him on his car. "Have a nice trip," he smirked. Raven lay still for a moment before bellowing in anger.
"Good," the director grinned before motioning to the rest of the team to pack up and move out.
Matt affectionately slapped hands with the man that just seconds before had been cursing his name. "Great job, Levy."
"Seeya later Hardy."
Shawn duly tipped his glass to Matt before taking a drink. Matt smiled softly.
"So I get any details of this guy, like what he likes?" Shawn persisted.
Matt laughed and shook his head. "Pushy, aren't you?"
Shawn simply grinned.
"Lessee…what do you want to know?"
Shawn considered, tapping the glass against his chin. "Hmm…favourite colour."
Matt inclined his head. "Blue, dark blue."
"What he would be if he didn't get into wrestling."
"Engineer."
Mentally Shawn furrowed his brows. These answers were just a little too perfect, a little too quick…"Best friend."
Matt wiggled a finger at him. "You're getting a little too much info there."
Shawn looked at him over the table, considering. "What's your ultimate dream?"
Dark eyebrows wrinkled slightly. "I thought you wanted to know about this admirer of yours."
"I do. I just want to get to know Matt Hardy as well."
The eldest of the Hardy Boyz shrugged. "I dunno…win the World Heavyweight title in a six-pack TLC challenge."
"Who would the ideal opponents be?"
Matt smiled softly, using his arm to prop up his head. "Um…Christian and Edge, first off, mostly because I'd love to see them on that level when I am. Kidman and Rey Mysterio, because I'd love to see what they could do with all the parts of the match…and Mick Foley of 1999, just 'cause he'd have the crowd totally up off their feet."
Shawn smiled back at him, his glass resting against his cheek. "Where're you from?"
"North Carolina. Me an' Jeff are li'le town boys. Yanno the Hurricane? 'E grew up in Raleigh, about an hour or so's drive away, an' he used to jump on these old, old trains that carried coal…"
The lightest brunette at the table laughed harder, just imagining what Matt had just described.
"Ah kid ya not. Shane and Shannon were utterly obsessed with superglue."
"I can just imagine your kid brother stuck to the bed naked with lipstick smears all over his butt," Shawn chuckled.
Matt grinned at the memory. "The worst part about it was that his girlfriend at the time came in and thought they were actually kiss marks. He couldn't get to talk to her for weeks afterwards."
Shawn calmed down slowly, stray giggles still escaping. His eyes met Matt's, and he could see the younger man was trying not to laugh, with his grin periodically growing and shrinking. That set him off again, and this time Matt joined him.
Shawn calmed down again, slower this time, and concentrated on looking at he tabletop. He took a few deep breaths until the urge to laugh faded. Then something Matt had said caught his attention…
"So then this little kid called Shannon, from Cameron like us, met Jeff at a school social…"
Shawn stopped, unknowingly his finger tracing a heart carved into the diner's table. Matt noticed Shawn wasn't saying or doing anything pretty quickly.
"Shawn? You okay?" Matt questioned. When he didn't get a response, he frowned. "Shawn?"
Shawn stared at his hands, but was distracted when Matt's enclosed over his. "Shawn?" he asked softly.
"It's you, isn't it?"
Matt's hands withdrew. "What's me?" he questioned in a clipped tone.
"You know. You're my secret admirer, aren't you?" Shawn raised his eyes, gazing at the top of Matt's head. "Matt."
Matt nodded his head silently.
"Matt? Matthew, look at me."
Matt let his eyes rise meekly. "You really need to tone down that act," he whispered softly. "That sexy yet innocent Texan boy ain't exactly the best way to avoid attention. I was just the one who waited."
Shawn dropped his head into his hands. Matt took it as a sign of rejection. "I'm sorry, Shawn."
Before Shawn could say anything Matt was out of the diner.
"Dammit, you stupid kid," Shawn ranted quietly. He shifted gears, speeding up on the dirt street. Matt had obviously forgotten the fact that Shawn had driven them to the restaurant, and had stormed out and presumably started walking. He glanced around.
"Eureka."
Spotting a black shirt he pushed down on the brake before hopping out of the rental. He barely remembered to take the keys out of the car. Brushing past the hood of the car he jumped over a few of the small bushes disconnecting the side of the road from a dirt track a few metres in.
"Matt!" he yelled. "Hardy!"
"What, Shawn?" a tried voice asked from behind him. He whirled around.
Matt was leaning against a sapling. He took a brief moment to take in the second-skin denim jeans, the slightly torn shirt…must've got that earlier…the weary look in his eyes and the twigs caught in his hair. Shawn reacted instantly.
Taking four steps he got right in front of Matt, and the younger man flinched slightly as if expecting a slap. What a surprise for him…
Shawn kissed him. He pressed his body into Matt's, feeling the hard muscles under his shirt. He wrapped his arms around Matt's neck, crushing their lips together.
With a muffled…what sounded like a curse…Matt retaliated. One hand went to the back of Shawn's head, the other running over the firm planes of his body. God, he'd never been kissed like this before…
At almost exactly the same moment they opened their mouths, and their tongues met in almost a violent dance for control. Shawn was out of the breath by the time the kiss ended. His eyes met Matt's, and he could see the younger man heaving slightly as well.
"Wow," Matt said suddenly, brushing his hair out of his face.
Shawn could only nod.
"So when can we do that again?" Matt questioned, a cheeky smile spreading over his face.
Shawn could only shake his head. Taking a deep breath he stepped forward and reclaimed Matt's lips.
Well, could be worse.
His admirer could have been Regal.