To Walk Away?

There's supposed to be someone out there for everyone right? That special someone – that person who makes your heart race and your palms sweat with anticipation. That person who, when around him, you become acutely aware of his presence, of the feeling of his body close to yours, of the sound of his voice as he tells you a story or laughs at something someone just said. Well, that's the way it is for me. With him. It's funny because, for some time, you could have hardly called us friends. We were mere acquaintances – acknowledging each other when we passed in the hallway, chatting for brief moments here and there. But recently? Most recently, it seems as if we've become more. The only problem – he's got a girlfriend. Bigger problem? She's moving in with him.

Those eyes. That smile. The empty words of love that fall from her lips. She's no good for him. He has to know that…doesn't he? No, he probably doesn't. She's got him so wrapped up, so enthralled with her, that he can't even see straight, that he can't see her for what she really is. She doesn't really love him – but she's got him thinking that he'll never find anyone better than her, that he'll never find anyone who supposedly loves him as much as she does. He doesn't see it, or he chooses to just ignore it. The looks she gives the other guys, the innuendo that drips from her voice whenever she's around them. She's a fallen angel: all peaches and cream on the outside, cold steel underneath. He's wasting his time with her. He's wasting himself…

Sitting in the quiet hallway of the arena, her laptop perched precariously on her thighs, she was lost in thought. She should have been more focused on her work, not thinking about his strong arms that seemed to be her protection against the world. She should have been returning a dozen or more phone calls, not thinking about his eyes that seemed to be able to read her so well. She should have been making the changes to tonight's scripts like Stephanie had asked, not thinking about the lips she longed to kiss. She should have been doing any number of things, but instead, she sat watching him.

She watched him as he talked on his cell phone, laughing at something the person on the other end of the phone had just said. She knew he was talking to her. Knew they were busy making plans, knew they were professing their undying love for one another. Shaking her head, she let out a quiet sigh. She wished she could have told him the truth, told him about what he couldn't see himself. Told him what the so-called love of his life was really like. She lied, she manipulated, she attempted to control every situation so she could get her way. She had forced him to give up a number of friends simply because she didn't like them. She had pushed him away from his family, telling him that they needed alone time when he wasn't on the road. And like a fool, he had fallen for the puppy dog eyes and the pouty lips – telling his friends he couldn't hang out with them anymore, telling his family he needed to spend time with his girl when he had time off. She wasn't quite sure, but somehow she had managed to avoid being cut out of his life. She supposed it was because she seemed non-threatening – she was never one to ruffle feathers or place herself in the middle of situations that didn't warrant her attention. The two of them were friends, best friends…at least that was what she hoped everyone saw when they scrutinized their relationship. Friends and nothing more. But if he asked…

Shaking her head, she tried to focus on the work in front of her, rather than on the thoughts running through her head – all of the what ifs causing her to have a difficult time concentrating on the task in front of her. Stephanie had requested that the script changes be finished within the hour, and she had yet to even start the assignment, too engrossed in her own thoughts and feelings to start her work. As she leaned her head against the wall behind her, she closed her eyes, her mind drifting back to her early days with the WWE…

Flashback

She had joined the WWE two years ago, straight out of college, as an assistant to one of the writers. The job wasn't glamorous, not by any means, but it had paid the bills and she was getting to travel all over the world and work with a great group of people. She was friendly towards everyone, but she wouldn't have exactly called any of them her friends. Except for him. When she had first started working, he was the only person to even acknowledge her presence, offering her a nod of his head when they passed in the hallway. Part of her questioned why he would even bother paying attention to a lowly staff assistant, especially when he had the attention of so many other females, both in and outside of the company. The other part of her didn't want to question it, instead choosing to simply revel in those brief seconds as they passed each other in the hall.

Of course, she had known who he was – she had been following the WWE since she was a small child, knew of his reputation around the locker room, knew of his penchant for having a bad attitude, for thinking he was the greatest thing walking the halls, God's gift to women. She knew, and yet, she didn't care.

You should never judge someone for being who they are her grandfather had always told her, and she hadn't. She had watched him form afar, watched as he stalked the halls like a lithe cat, snarling at those who got in his way, flirting with those he found attractive, and generally attempting to show the locker room that he was all his moniker denoted. She had seen the attitude and the aggression, but she had also seen something else – she had seen the questions in his eyes, the uncertainty in his posture – as some around him preached about destiny, about greatness, about what he would soon become. She could sense that he still doubted himself, still wondered whether he was truly meant for greatness. She longed to tell him the truth – he was talented, beyond his twenty-six years, and when the time came, he would ease into the greatness so many had foreseen in his future. But only if he was able to harness the anger, the attitude, and the aggression.

As time moved forward, when they passed each other in the hallway, short meaningless words were exchanged, but the pair never had a real conversation. Until that night…

She was walking down the hall of the arena, her heels clicking quietly against the concrete, having just come from dropping off a new script in Chris Benoit's locker room. Thinking about the past, about things probably best left in the dark recesses of her mind, she almost tripped over a pair of outstretched legs, catching herself at the last moment, moving around him and continuing her way down the otherwise empty hallway. Something, however, made her turn around. He sat there against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, his head in his hands. She debated for a moment before slowly turning and approaching him. She wasn't sure if she should interrupt him, interrupt his thoughts, but her feet seemed to have a mind of their own as she continued to move towards him. Standing at his side, she waited to see if he would look up, if he would even notice her standing beside him. When he didn't, she reached out and tentatively placed her hand on his shoulder. Startled, he looked up, an unreadable expression crossing his features before he swiftly stood, placing his hands on his hips. Involuntarily, she took a step back, instantly regretting ever stopping to speak to him, and yet she couldn't move, couldn't look away. Something about his eyes captivated her, rooted her to that spot in the hallway.

Swallowing her nerves, she lightly bit her bottom lip, before asking in an almost whisper, "Are you, um, are you okay?" When he didn't respond immediately, she took a deep breath and continued, determined to get him to at least answer with a yes or no before she went back to her office to continue her work. "I mean, I, uh, I know we haven't really spoken to each other, but you seem like you might need to talk to someone…" She trailed off, hoping maybe the floor would just open and swallow her whole, regretting ever stopping to speak to him.

He simply stood there, those eyes boring a hole through her very soul. He took a moment to study her. He noticed the slight blush on her cheeks, the way she was nervously biting her lip. And yet, she had maintained eye contact with him the entire time, never wavering. Few people, if any, particularly women, did that around him. Usually, they were such timid little things, they would barely get out a sentence before dissolving into a fit of giggles. But not her.

They had passed each other many times in many different hallways the past few months, and for whatever reason, he had always acknowledged her presence, whether with a short nod of his head or a few words. She was an assistant to one of the head writers, he knew that much. Short. Blonde hair. Conservative dresser. Beautiful smile. The thought rose unbidden in his head, and he wondered when he had ever before bothered to pay attention to a woman's smile. And that was all he had allowed himself to know about her. He didn't need to know anything else, didn't want to know anything else. He didn't have time…didn't have patience. Didn't need any more friends or acquaintances. He had enough of those already. But here she was, asking if he wanted to talk, tell her his problems.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, he continued to stare down at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Why would you care? I don't know you. You don't know me. So does it really matter?" he asked, a harsh edge entering his voice.

Shaking her head slightly, she sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "You're right. I don't know you. And you definitely don't know shit-one about me. But you look like something's bother you and my grandpa always said that if you see someone in pain, then you should do something to ease it. So that's all I was-"

"How sweet…your grandpa told you that? Look, I'm not in pain. Nothing's broken. Nothing's wrong. I'm just fine…" he interrupted. He never liked feeling inferior to those around him, but at this moment, that's exactly how he was feeling. Something about her made him feel small.

Without hesitation, all previous nervousness having disappeared, she took a step towards him. "Your spirit is. Broken I mean. I've seen how you act around here. You scowl, you're mean to the people that work backstage, you flirt with anything in a skirt. But you still have questions floating around in your head. You still wonder if destiny really is on your side. If you can match up to everything that's been written, everything that's been said about you. And that's why you were sitting here, alone, instead of laughing it up with everyone else in catering," she said matter-of-factly.

Anger clouded his features for a moment. "How the hell would you know what I was thinking little girl? Huh? You probably just want what everyone else wants – a piece of me. Is that it? Am I right?" he asked as he slowly moved towards her until he had her pinned against the wall.

Rolling her eyes, she placed her hand gently on his chest, and pushed him back slightly. For a moment, he was so taken aback that she would even put her hands on him that he couldn't register what she was doing, but when he realized that he had let his anger once again get the better of him and he was crowding her, he took a couple of steps backward. Startled when he stepped away from her so easily, she looked up at him with unfaltering hazel eyes.

"The most I've ever gotten from you was a nod of your head and maybe a quick hello as we passed in the hallway, and that's fine with me. I've never wanted anything more from you. I don't want more from you now. I've got enough things to deal with in my own life, without having to ask what's happening in yours. There just seemed to be something bothering you, and I'm sorry, but it's not in my nature to just walk past someone who seems so broken down. If that bothers you, then I'm sorry and we can go back to exchanging quick pleasantries when we pass each other in the hall," she declared, as she turned to continue her way down the hallway.

As she made to move past him, she felt his hand gently grasp her wrist and pull her back towards him. Turning, she pulled her hand from his and raised a questioning eyebrow, her arms crossing over her chest. He looked at her for a moment before a small smile came to his lips.

"No one has ever talked to me like that before," he said, as he leaned back against the wall, giving her a genuine smile this time.

"Yeah well, maybe someone should have. Maybe you wouldn't keep getting into trouble if someone had bothered to stand up to you before now," she said defiantly as she continued to stare at him.

Laughing now, he pushed himself off the wall and stood before her. "I like you," he said, nodding his head in approval. "You're different then most people around here. You're not afraid of me." Pausing, he looked down at her face, which now also held the faint hint of a smile. "So you really want to listen to all my problems? Find out why I was sitting in this hallway by myself instead of fucking around with the guys?" he asked.

When she nodded her head in agreement, he extended his hand. "I'm Randy. Randy Orton," he stated.

Placing her hand in his, she smiled. "Melanie. Melanie Raye. It's a pleasure to meet you Randy."

End of Flashback

From that moment on, she and Randy had become inseparable. She was his shoulder to cry on. She had lost count of how many nights she had sat in his hotel room while he poured his heart out – about his latest storyline, the pressure being put on him by management, his anger, his hopes, his dreams. She would quietly listen, offer him advice, and sit with him until he fell into a fitful sleep. And he was her protector. Making sure she always had a ride to the arena, walking her to her office or her hotel room, telling other wrestlers to back off when the flirting became too much for her to handle. And yet, there one was thing Randy couldn't protect her from. He couldn't protect her from the past, from her nightmares. Because he didn't know about it, about any of it – didn't know why she had been raised by her grandfather, didn't know why she preferred to room alone, didn't know why her eyes often looked haunted – and she intended to keep it that way.

And now here she was. Caught between a rock and a hard place. She had a best friend whom she adored. And he was in love with someone else…

She hadn't realized she was staring at Randy, too lost in her own thoughts, until he looked up from his conversation, throwing her a small wink and a crooked smile. She smiled back, trying hard to hide the pain in her eyes, embarrassed to have been caught staring at him. She averted her gaze back to her laptop, quickly beginning to type in the script changes for the evening. Suddenly, she felt someone nudge her shoulder and looked up into the blue eyes she had come to know so well.

"Let's go out and celebrate tonight, Sunflower," Randy said as he plopped down on the crate beside her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

Melanie couldn't help but smile at the nickname he had given her. Your hair looks like sunflowers. That's what I'm gonna call you from now on – Sunflower. It suits you.

Sighing, she closed her eyes for a moment and rested her head on his shoulder. "What are we celebrating?" she asked quietly, trying to stifle a yawn. She was exhausted and, at the moment, all she wanted to do was return to her hotel room, the comfort of her bed, and sleep the rest of the night away.

Randy squeezed her shoulder before dropping a quick kiss on her temple. "Sam and I got the house. The real estate agent called this afternoon. Isn't that great?"

Stiffening for a moment, she refrained from rolling her eyes, trying to muster up some amount of enthusiasm. "Uh, yeah. That's great. It's the one near downtown right? The brick one you were telling me about?" she asked as she sat up and moved away from him slightly, suddenly very aware of just how close they were sitting to each other.

"That's the one. It's going to be so great. We're closing in a couple of weeks and then Sam and I will be moving all our stuff in. You'll have to come to St. Louis to see it once we're all settled!" Randy exclaimed.

And so my heart breaks into a few more pieces she thought as she bit the inside of her cheek. You're his best friend Melanie. Nothing more. Stop trying to pretend that something could ever happen between the two of you because you know it never will.

"Sunflower? You okay? You're awfully quiet," said Randy, noticing her silence. He once again wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to his side. "Maybe we shouldn't go out tonight. You look really tired – we can always do it another night."

"I'm fine," Melanie lied. "I just really have to finish these script changes. Look, come find me later and we'll go out somewhere, okay? My treat."

Hesitating for a moment, Randy finally nodded his head in agreement and hopped off the packing crates. As he began walking down the hallway towards his locker room, he quickly turned and made his way back to Melanie.

She looked up, startled, as she felt a pair of lips brush her cheek. "I forgot to mention that you look beautiful tonight Sunflower. You really do," whispered Randy as he straightened and, without looking back again, made his way down the hall to his locker room.

She tried to suppress the shiver that traveled down her spine at the feel of his lips on her skin or his warm breath on her ear. But she couldn't. She had tried so hard, for so many months, not to let him get to her, not to let herself fall hard and fast for someone she could never have. She had sworn to herself, up and down, that she wouldn't, that she couldn't get involved with Randy in any capacity beyond friendship. And yet, whenever he wrapped his arms around her or dropped a quick kiss on her forehead as he said goodnight, she felt herself fall just a little bit more. She didn't want to be the other woman, didn't want to get herself involved with a man who's heart belonged to someone else. But a part of her said, Who cares? Sam doesn't really love him anyway. She loves the fame, the money, the prestige. But she doesn't love the man. The other part of her thought, No, no, no! You cannot get involved with him. He's in love with someone else.

Melanie shook her head, stopping her train of thought. Saving the changes to tonight's script, she slipped her laptop in its carry-case and hopped off the crates. Making her way back to her office, she printed out the new pages and sat down at her desk for a just a moment, resting her chin in her hands, her mind once again turning to the one man who was never far from her thoughts.

How do you tell the man who was once a mere acquaintance and has now become your best friend, that you've fallen for him? How do you tell him that he's everything you've ever wanted? How do you tell him she's not right for him? How do you do it without hurting him and making him despise you…

Now, I'm not the type of girl who would ever try to get in the middle of a relationship. And I would never, ever want to do anything to hurt him. It's all well and good to say that though – that I don't want to get in the middle of anything, that I just want him to be happy. I want him to be happy with me though – not her!

My friends keep telling me to back away, to not get too close, because my heart will eventually end up broken. I guess it already is – broken I mean. But how can you give up a friendship that has come to mean the world to you? How can you simply walk away and forget him…

Let me know if this is something I should continue with. Please read and review!