Title: Bad Day
Author: Christina
Category: WWE
Pairing: Torrie/Cena
Summary: Sometimes, we all just have one.
Rating: PG (Just for some mild language)
Spoilers: None really.
Comments:
1. As you all know, something went wrong with my account and deleted all my stories. Poop, oh well, I'm back with a new fic.
2. I was somewhat inspired to write this fic because of the song "Bad Day" by Daniel Powter. Good song.
3. I have decided this will only be a one-shot since I feel it would somewhat ruin the whole flow of the story if I were to continue it seeing as how it ended nicely.
4. As always, please leave feed back as you have no clue how much it impacts me as a writer.
The alarm clock's unwelcoming tone caused Torrie Wilson to nearly fall off her bed; apparently sleep deprived. Wanting to get a few more hours of sleep, she hastily tried to feel her way through her surroundings in the pitch black hotel room until she found the snooze button only to find she pressed the radio letting out a loud, unpleasant sound. She grunted something about the powers that be, won't let her have enough rest before finally deciding to wake up and made her way towards the shower. Brushing the sand off her eyes, she slowly turned the shower knob only to be doused with a cold burst of water letting out a soft yelp. She always hated Mondays, probably because its the one part of the week where she's forced to degrade herself to chocolate mud fights and bikini contests. She never understood why she even stuck around with the damn company, probably because she's under the impression if she sticks around long enough, maybe Vince will give her something worth while, perhaps a title run? Although the theory was highly doubtful, she was in a sticky situation, where would she go if she were to be released?
Torrie soon erased such dark thoughts and quickly dried herself off before heading towards her suitcases scampering through her bags in hopes to find something decent to wear. Her superficial obsession was soon punished as soon as she noticed the digital clock on her nightstand.
"Shit I'm late." She panicked, eventually giving up on her search and quickly found some jogging pants and a white t-shirt before running out the door. If this were any indication as to what her day was going to be like, it would be a disaster.
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It was gloomy for a mid-spring day in California. The gray clouds were not looking very promising as it looked like it was on the verge of letting out another cold shower Torrie won't be too excited about. While trying to focus on the road, she tried to feel the contents of the passenger seat with her idle hand searching for her cell phone only to be halted by a police car's siren directing her to pull over. She wasn't exactly very coordinated nor was she very organized which led her to another form of punishment for her careless actions. Torrie put on her most synthetic smile hoping she can charm her way out of this situation. Unfortunately for her, it was a woman.
"Just my luck." She said to herself; convinced as the police-woman walked towards her vehicle.
"M'am do you know why you're being pulled over." She asked with authority. Not receiving a response, the woman continued.
"M'am, you just passed a red light a few blocks back. Please hand over your drivers licence." Torrie obliged with the command and slowly handed over her ID. As the police officer made her way back to her vehicle, she crushed her delicate hands into her blonde locks obviously overwhelmed with stress. Out of all the days to be late, why must it be today? Hopefully, management won't be too mad at her for being late, afterall, at least she had an excuse.
After preoccupying herself by listening to other vehicles swish on by, Torrie received a fine from the officer and sped off hoping she'll have enough time to squeeze in a good work out. She was already 30 minutes late. Once again, she blamed forces she can't explain as a probable explanation for her not-so lucky events that have transpired today.
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If one thing wrestling fans were well known for, was for their persistence. They'd wait outside the arena for hours just so they can scream at the fellow superstars that entered. Today was no different especially for John Cena.
"You suck!...Go back to where you belong you fuckin' poser...Idiot!" The crowd found sick pleasure into torturing the current champion as he was simply trying to make his way backstage. Fans always had a narrow-sided perception that wrestlers have no emotions, that they come with the price of admission. Sure, Cena can sympathize with them as to why they'd egg him on seeing as how his character has gone stale. But they obviously don't realize that he's just a human being with feelings as well. He conveyed his true emotions by laughing the situation off hoping the crowd would eventually die down. However it didn't, as he could still hear the distant noise of fellow wrestling fans screaming his name followed by strong use of adjectives. It's times like these he wondered why he wrestles for a crowd that doesn't even like him.
"Just another day." He sighed, before wandering off into the locker room.
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"1...2...3!" The referee declared, Cena's music blared throughout the arena. John raised the belt in triumph after a hard earned victory over Triple H. The crowd, showing their defiance boo'd the current WWE champion as if he was undeserving of the title. Those warm memories of the people chanting his name were all but a distant past. A bittersweet reminder of what he once was. Saving the remaining dignity he had left, he swiftly walked up the ramp as the crowd cheered for his opponent.
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Another successful episode of Raw was finished taping. Backstage; the wrestlers and crew were all obviously relieved that it was finally over as it was a seemingly impossible task to run a live show smoothly. Torrie soon decided to head out later than everyone else, not want to be noticed seeing as she was sure people backstage weren't too happy with her "fashionably late" arrival. A few hours later, she quickly ran towards her rental car noticing rain was pouring heavily down the now empty parking lot. Quickly starting the engine, she awaited anxiously for the car to start only to die out on her. She tried a few more times before eventually giving up. This day was obviously not going as she had expected it to be. She was stressed, tired, and needed a ride back to the hotel. Torrie searched through her purse, hoping she could contact one of her friends to give her a lift and take care of this vehicle tomorrow. She quickly dialed Victoria's phone only to hear a loud beeping noise. Her phone went dead.
Torrie was flushed with anger as she slammed her fist into the steering wheel sounding off the car horn.
"Why are you doing this to me." She pleaded, her face easing into her lap as she quietly cried to herself, not wanting to be seen.
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John Cena slowly dragged his feet across the carpet as he was about to leave the arena. All the other superstars decided to go out tonight but he simply refused and reasoned he was tired and just wanted to go home. He was tired of all the insults, brutal comments, and the harsh actions directed towards him. Not wanting to think about such thoughts, he walked toward the exit assuring himself a good night's rest will make him feel better. As soon as he opened the door, he found her sitting there under the shade, watching the rain splash into small puddles.
Putting his duffel bag down, he slowly made his way towards her. She looked like a mess, her hair tangled up into different directions and remaining dry streaks of liquid kissed her soft cheeks.
"Hey Torrie" He said in a barely audible voice.
"Hey." She replied with apathy.
"Been here awhile?"
"Yea."
"Bad day?"
"Yea."
"Same." He smirked. John was somewhat comforted to know that he was not the only one who was having a bad day. Torrie smiled, inviting him to sit beside her. He complied, slowly sat down on the hard concrete and ooched on over beside her. It was nice to have someone you can relate to at times like these.
"Why would you be having a bad day champ? You've got everything going for you." She stated quickly wiping the tears off her eyes. John was amused by her, even though it was obvious she was crying she'd try to cover it up.
"Yea, I know I shouldn't be complaining since after all, I have it good. It's just..." He was always hesitant when it came to expressing his emotions. He felt that it would ruin his "credibility".
"Go on.." She insisted.
"It's just sometimes I don't know what to do. The fans hate me, and I just don't know what to do to please them." He confessed. Torrie was intrigued by him, on the surface he seemed like your typical meat head yet he was also selfless into making others happy. A trait she highly admired.
"It's nice to have fans that boo you. It shows that they care." Torrie continued, she eased her chin into her own knees, feeling the thick cotton fabric of her sweatpants while her hazel orbs gazed upon the dark, deserted parking lot. Such a captivating woman she was, she was able to make him see things in a whole new perspective. It was Cena's turn to break the ice, curious as to why a young lady like her would be depressed.
"Now that I've shared my thoughts with you, I think it's my turn to start asking." He playfully nudged grabbing her attention from the rather depressing weather.
"It's just one of those days where everything goes wrong. Late for work, got pulled over for passing a red light, ridiculed backstage, car broke broke down, and now I'm stuck here."
"At least you've got me." Torrie's eyes widened after hearing such a comment. Just one simple line turned her day around. A smirk grew on her face as her head eased into John's shoulder catching him somewhat off guard. She could feel his muscular frame through his silk jersey which somewhat tickled her cheeks.
"Yea. I'm definitely glad you're here." She agreed. As if on instinct, John's arm slowly wrapped around her shoulder, slowly stroking her slender arm. He could smell her sweet aroma-bubble gum accented with a hint of mint.
Torrie's eyes slowly came to a close succumbing to the temptation of obtaining her long awaited rest. She took comfort in his warm embrace, his mere presence diminishing all her worries and regrets.
"I get it, I get it." She murmured to herself before falling to a quiet slumber. Both of them wished every night could end like this; nothing more, nothing less.