The chill of the night nipped at Danielle's nose as she stood outside, in front of the bar, waiting for John to arrive. Her snow-dusted black knit cap was firmly on her head and her black pea coat seemed to be the only thing protecting her body from freezing.

It had been nearly fifteen minutes since she'd left her car and she hadn't expected to be waiting for John this long, let alone waiting at all. Then again, Danielle didn't exactly expect to bump into John Cena tonight. She'd watched him for a while now and he had become one of her favorite wrestlers to watch; highly athletic and powerful, with the capability to verbally destroy his rivals. Maybe her birthday wasn't turning out so badly after all.

"Sorry I'm late," John apologized as he jogged towards her.

"I was beginning to think you had stood me up," she responded honestly.

"I wouldn't do that, especially not to young woman like yourself," he smirked. "I had to give my bros the heads up that I was leaving. I couldn't just hang them out to dry, so I gave Sean the keys. He's the only one who hasn't been drinking tonight."

"So how are you planning on getting home then?" Danielle asked suspiciously.

"A cab. It wouldn't be the first time I have taken one, that's for sure. Honestly, I don't mind at all," John shrugged. "So you all set?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Where exactly is this café?"

"About four blocks from here."

"Ha. That's nothing," she laughed as they began walking. "I take walks around here every morning… rain or snow."

"Wrestlers are all about dedication, Danielle," John stated simply.

"I understand that and it's precisely why it doesn't bother me so much. I work through the type of pain that people could never deal with. I tore my ACL when I was 16 and I never thought I'd be able to play sports again, period. Do you know how hard it was to come back from that?"

John quickly thought back to his days at Springfield College.

"I was fortunate enough to escape injury in my four years of college ball and while I can't relate first hand, there were many of my guys that went down to similar injuries. Most of them weren't really the same after that," John nodded. "How did you tear it in the first place?"

"My sophomore year, I was on the varsity soccer team as the starting goalie. We were playing our rival school and I jumped to grab the ball, which was inches from the crossbar. Luckily, I tipped the ball over the back of the net, but I came down and twisted my knee slightly. The stubborn person that I was, I decided to play through the injury, seeing as the team needed me. A few minutes later, one of their forwards rammed me into the goal post, knee first, on a corner kick. I felt a pop and that was it," Danielle closed her eyes and shook her head. "In one second, my season was over."

"I'm sorry," he replied. "I know it doesn't mean much."

"No, I appreciate it," she smiled weakly. "I rehabbed like mad and got to where I wanted to be, but by the time I was back to normal, my athletic career was over. I had missed all opportunities to play in college and would have to wait until the end of my freshman year to even consider trying to appeal for a spot," she spoke softly as she stared down at her footprints in the snow. "It tore me apart inside."

Surprisingly, John felt a twinge of pain for her. He knew how much he loved what he did and he couldn't bear to think about what would happen if it was all taken away.

"So then, why Boston?" he asked curiously.

"When I fell out of sports, the debate team was something that kind of dropped into my lap at the right time. Everything about it fascinated me – the passion, the intellect, the hard-work it required. The competitive nature of it all didn't exactly hurt, either," Danielle chuckled slightly at the thought. "Somewhere along the line, I fell in love with it all and found myself moving towards a career dealing with political science. From there, I pretty much worked my ass of in school to get where I wanted to be."

"But how did you wind up here?"

"Truthfully?" she asked, to which he nodded affirmatively. "You're going to think I'm crazy," she shook her head and smiled in embarrassment, kicking some snow with her boots.

"Try me," John challenged her.

"It was the only shot I really had to do what I loved… and that was wrestling."

"That's not crazy, Danielle."

"Oh yeah? Is this crazy?" she arched an eyebrow at him and pasted on her best Cheshire cat grin before picking up a clump of snow from the freshly coated sidewalk.

"Don't even think about it," John held up his hands and warned her.

"Of course, I'm not going to think about it," she shook her head and launched the snow at his grey, hooded sweatshirt. "I'm just going to do it."

He looked at her, looked down at the spot on his sweatshirt, and picked up his own snowball. "Oh… hell no."

Danielle ran and ducked behind a light post as John fired his shot at her, which exploded on the base of the streetlight. When he went for the next bit of snow, she began to run down the street.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?" he called after her as he began a full sprint after towards her down the street.

"Come and get me!" Danielle turned and yelled back.

He knew that she was a former soccer star and a wrestler-in-training, but he had underestimated her. She was quick and agile, even after going through ACL reconstruction surgery, which further impressed him.

Danielle began to slow down as she approached the open café and reached a complete stop right at the storefront. However, John had sped up and was quickly gaining on her. Soon, he had fully reached her and wrapped his arms around her body.

"Gotcha!" he yelled in triumph, as he lifted her in the air, leading her to kick her feet aimlessly.

"Oh no you don't!" she fought back through gritted teeth and crouched down, before lifting John off the ground on her back.

Taken by surprise, he slid down into a pile of snow, which gave her the opportunity to dash inside. Noticing where she'd disappeared to, John stood up, dusted the snow off his sweatshirt and jeans, before heading inside to find her.

"I see you managed to dust yourself off," a voice called to him from the far off corner of the room.

John turned in the direction of the voice to find Danielle seated at a table, with her head propped up on her still-gloved hands.

"Bet you didn't expect that one, huh?" she gloated as he began making his way towards her.

"Not really," he admitted, turning the chair opposite her around and sitting down in it.

The waitress quickly greeted them, took their orders, and left the table in a matter of minutes, as they got back to conversation.

"How long have you been able to do that?" John asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"Probably somewhere north of two years now," Danielle shrugged nonchalantly. "The first wrestler I ever lifted was a woman about 130 pounds, which is nothing. After a year, I pretty much found myself able to lift the guys. One of the trainers suggested I get involved in a match to set up a manager-like role with another wrestler. I would up hurricarana-ing a guy who weighed close to 240 pounds."

"But how did you manage to pick me up on your back? A hurricarana is all about leg strength and timing… that's completely different."

"Cena, if you only knew some of the stuff I can do in the ring," she stared at him confidently.

"I'd like to see that sometime," he answered seriously. "I'm home for the week. The Smackdown taping tomorrow night is in Boston and the house shows are pretty much in the area for the week, too. At max, they're going to be an hour away from Boston. That's it. You know, I've gotta work out before the matches tomorrow… maybe I'll stop by the gym and see what you've got."

"You know, Mr. Cena, you might have just asked for more trouble than you bargained for."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

There was something about this girl that was getting to him. Sure, he was sarcastic and sometimes brash, but she was bringing out something in him that he hadn't felt for years with any girl. He could just be himself around her. She didn't judge him and she didn't want anything from him. They just shared a common bond at the moment: wrestling. It wasn't just his life, it was hers too.

"So, Danielle," he addressed her as the waitress delivered their coffee mugs, "You told me you came out here to do what you loved and wrestle. Why couldn't you wrestle in your home state?"

"Wow. That's a good question," Danielle relented as she stared thoughtfully at her coffee mug, tracing a circle around its edge. "I used to sneak into my older brother's room late at night to watch wrestling. It wasn't so much because it was past my bedtime, but rather because wrestling wasn't really something my mom approved of."

"My mom wasn't too thrilled with it either," he mused, recalling the times she'd watch him and his brothers beating the crap out of each other on the lawn, while yelling at them to get back inside the house. "But it was in my blood and there wasn't much she could do about it."

"I wish my mom felt the same way," she sighed and looked back up from her coffee cup. "I used to tell her that I hated wrestling and that I thought it was barbaric because that's the way she felt. My dad would take my brother to shows and tapings, but I didn't go and it killed me. He had all these awesome shirts and posters, but I couldn't have any. I had to keep up the lie that I'd built up," shaking her head in disgust, she continued, "You know? Seventeen years of watching wrestling and I've never owned a single piece of memorabilia, let alone a shirt. Even now, when I'm on my own."

"That's a hard life to live, Danielle," John sympathized with her.

He found himself wondering how such an amazing girl could be forced to live such an extensive lie?

"It really is. When my brother moved out and got his own place, I had to watch every show in my room. I'd change the channel quickly if she walked in back then, but once I hit high school, I wised up and plugged my headphones into the television. After a while, I stopped using the headphones and wanted her to catch me, but I would basically just chicken out at the end."

"So that's why you came this far to wrestle?" John asked, intrigued by her dedication.

"Yeah… because I knew that I could train and stay in school away from home. I could never do it back in Jersey." She reached for her mug, drew a long sip of the hot liquid as it warmed her hands, and returned to conversation. "Never."

"How are you staying on your feet, though?" he delved a little deeper and then was quickly overcome by a feeling of regret. "I'm sorry… I'm getting too personal, aren't I?"

"Don't worry about it, John," Danielle shook her head at him furiously. "I don't mind. If anything, it helps. You're the first person that really understands."

It was certainly true. When he graduated college, he moved to California with five hundred dollars to his name and slept in his car while training at a wrestling gym. If anyone understood, it was him.

"I'm glad I can help," he answered truthfully.

"But to answer your question… I had a lot of money saved up from working during the school year. I started at a summer camp and then went on to work at an ice cream store for two years after that. Unfortunately, it led to a weight gain and I wasn't exactly skinny before that. I took care of that during training. The only reason I didn't blow right through that money was because I got an academic scholarship to BU right out of high school. I got a 1490 on my SAT's and they were pretty much willing to let me go on a free ride. My "tuition savings" basically went towards training and a car," she laughed.

"All that intelligence and all you want to do is lose brain cells as a wrestler?" John joked.

"You're sounding more and more like my mother."

"How'd she take it when you told her you had enrolled in a wrestling school?"

"Umm…" she began to fidget awkwardly in her chair. "She didn't. Mom still doesn't know about it. My dad doesn't know either… even though he does know I watch wrestling. I told him when I was seventeen and he agreed it was best not to break the news to Mom any time soon. My brother, on the other hand, married this lovely woman about ten years ago and they, along with my nephew, are pretty much the only other people that know. Her stepfather, in fact, used to train with Scotty 2 Hottie and Tazz way back when he was a wrestler. I watched some of his tapes, they were pretty good. He and his wife know too… after all, he's been helping me out with my power moves a lot."

"What happens if you make it to the WWE?" John asked as the waitress left the check on the table.

"You mean… when I make it to the WWE?" she corrected him. "I don't know. I've got to get there first. I've seen many people I train with give up their dream, but that's not me. Either I make it… or they'll have to toss me out of the gym to get rid of me. Even then, I might show up. They have scouting down here every three years or so. Last time around, I was too green for them to look at, so some other guys got my spot. This year, they're coming back… in a few weeks… and I'm ready for them. I've just got to keep myself healthy and on track."

"Danielle, you're going to do just fine. I've got faith in you," John smiled reassuringly as he took a swig of coffee.

"But you barely know me…" she trailed off.

"I seem to know you better than most people do," he pressed his lips together and shrugged. "I live the same type of life that you do and I know how hard it is to get where you want to be. I scratched and clawed my way up the ladder to get where I wanted to be. I was in OVW for a year to perfect my game, but you're already being trained by the Killer himself. You're way ahead of most guys in the business. If they like you, which they will, you'll be up in no time."

"I hope so," Danielle concluded and then caught the clock. "I think I'm going to hit the gym early tomorrow morning, so maybe it's best to call it a night, as much as I hate to."

"That sucks," John exhaled deeply as he left money on the table and stood up.

"But when we're chilling out together in the WWE, it'll be worth it," she smirked at him.

"True, very true," he said as he pushed open the door for her.

"Thanks, John," she grinned at him and looked around the deserted street. "I don't think that there are any cabs around. How are you getting home?"

"You know… that's a good question."

Fumbling through his pockets, he managed to come across his cell phone and dialed his cousin. Marc picked up a few moments later.

"Yo? Where are you guys?" John asked him over the speaker phone.

"Home. Where are you?" his voice, slightly slurred, asked.

"Stranded," he rolled his eyes. "I'll catch you later."

After hanging up abruptly, he began to walk the way from which he came.

"Where do you think you're going?" Danielle called after him. "You're just going to leave me alone here? Way to be my knight in shining armor."

Damn. Strike one against him.

"I was going to try to walk back to Tonic and call a cab," he called back to her.

He heard footsteps running behind him and turned around to find Danielle standing in front of him.

"I can give you a ride. I took the keys remember?" she reminded him, dangling her keys in the air. "I would never leave my friends, drunk, and with their car keys," she tilted her head at him.

"You would do that for me? I live forty minutes away from here. I thought you had an early morning tomorrow…"

"Well, now you do too. I expect to see you at 7am sharp," she smiled.

"Done," he agreed with a poignant nod.

She slung an arm around his shoulders, six inches above her head, and laughed.

"Come on, Cena, let's get you home."

The snowfall had turned into more of a flurry by the time they arrived at her 2000 Honda Civic, which she had bought back in 2001, after it had been repossessed by the dealership. She unlocked the doors, opened the driver's side door, and immediately turned on the heat.

Looking over at John, she mused, "You can open the door anytime you like."

"Yeah… right," he chuckled, opened the door, and slid into the car.

"I know my way around Boston and the freeway no problem," Danielle began to speak as she twisted the keys in the ignition, "But once we get to West Newbury, you're going to have to give me directions."

"No problem…have you ever been there before?" he inquired, continuing the conversation.

"I think I stopped in town for gas once and the gas station didn't have any at all. Thank God, my tank lasted until the next town over," she laughed.

"You know? That doesn't surprise me at all."

About forty minutes later, they had pulled off the freeway and were navigating the streets of West Newbury, Massachusetts. The roads were still slick from being freshly coated in snow earlier that night, but a little slow driving would take care of any risk there was.

"Make a left up here… my dad's house is the second on the right," John instructed her.

After turning into the driveway, Danielle put the car in park and turned to the passenger's side of the Civic, "So I guess we're here, huh?"

"Yep… Fabo's house," he nodded.

"I'd walk you to the door, but that's your job," she winked at him as he got out of the car and walked around to her side, after which she rolled down her window in compliance.

"Next time, next time," he laughed at her flirtation. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Count on it. Seven 'o clock, sharp," Danielle nodded once.

John went to walk inside when she stopped him, "Wait a minute," she halted him, reaching for her glove compartment and pulling out a pen. "Here's my number… just in case."

She knew it was a stupid excuse to give him her number, and she'd secretly bang her head against the wall later because of it, but Danielle wanted him to have it anyway.

After writing down her cell number on his hand in blue ink, John smiled genuinely at her. "Thanks. I'm putting it into my cell as soon as I get inside the house."

"You don't have to tell me that to make me feel like you're going to do it, John."

"I wouldn't just tell you anything for the sake of it. I really am going to do that," he assured her. "Promise."

"Thanks," she blushed uncharacteristically. "I appreciate it."

"You're a cool girl. Why wouldn't I want to talk to you…? I'm gonna want to know how you're doing in school and how you're doing in training."

"John, you can call me anytime," she nodded.

Another thing she'd bang her head against the wall for later.

Way to act desperate, Danielle, she thought to herself. Nice one.

"It's going to be good to have a friend back home to check up on. Too many people are checking up on me… it's going to be nice to return the favor to someone else," he grinned smugly.

"Um… thanks," she shook her head in laughter.

"I'll catch you tomorrow morning. Goodnight," John told her as he turned to walk back into the house.

Danielle let out a heavy sigh as she rolled up her window and put the car in reverse, however a brief knock on her window stopped her. It was John.

She rolled down her window, "Yes?"

"I forgot to tell you something," he responded.

"What'd you forget?" she asked as she cocked her head to the side.

John leaned in slowly and pressed his lips to her cheek.

"Happy birthday, Danielle," he smiled into her skin, before retreating back up the driveway, leaving Danielle's mind on repeat.

What the hell had just happened?

A/N: Please review everyone! I really want to know what you think! And thank you for the many subscribers to my story alert list! I 3 you guys!