Make Me Believe

A/N: This chapter is kind of short, but sometimes I think you can say what needs to be said with fewer words than normal. I hope you all enjoy it anyway!


As far as Cameron was concerned, there was absolutely no need for four thirty to come around twice in a day. The one in the afternoon was just fine - who needed another one?

Once she heard Ryan start his shower, Cameron struggled to blink her eyes against the darkness. Does my throat hurt? My head? Am I gonna vomit? It was the same checklist she ran down every morning, trying to come up with some excuse not to leave her bed. But the feeling of the air conditioning against her sweat-moistened skin reminded her that the electric bill would need to be paid at some point.

Rolling out of the bed, she cringed as her feet hit the floor. Every muscle in her body ached in the aftermath of the torture she had put it through the night before. Limping toward the kitchen, she set about making a sandwich for her husband. He was more than capable of fixing his own lunch, but she couldn't help feeling a little bit guilty for bringing people to the house when she knew he would be asleep.

Part of her had wanted him to be happy for her, to realize that other people supported her. But another part just wanted to pay him back for all of the late-night poker games and ESPN nights he and his friends had shared while she was trying to rest. The vengeful motivation brought on a guilt that she couldn't live with, so she had determined in the early morning hours that she would make him lunch and apologize before he headed off for the day.

By the time he stumbled out of the bathroom, dressed in ragged jeans and a tank top, he was rubbing his hand over his face and looking haggard. "Hey," he mumbled as he lowered himself to a bar stool and leaned against the counter heavily. "Sorry I was a dick last night," he apologized, raising his tired, blood shot eyes to his wife's face.

With a small smile, Cameron tossed a warm pop tart to husband before biting into one of her own. Leaning a hip against the counter opposite him, she shook her head. "I knew you'd be in bed," she admitted. "I'm sorry I brought them here."

Squinting against the harsh flourescent light overhead, Ryan's face twisted. "Was that the Undertaker that I kicked outta my house?" Cameron nodded as her husband flinched. "Dad's gonna kick my ass," he groaned.

Cameron chewed her breakfast, considering the man before her. He wasn't so bad. Not all the time. In fact, lookin' like he did in that moment, he was downright sexy. "It'll be our little secret," she winked.

A comfortable silence settled over them as the couple continued to eat, stealing furtive glances when the other wasn't looking. There was something easy about their relationship, something comforting about knowing damn near everything there was to know about each other. There was something calming about the way that they didn't have to speak to be in one another's company.

"So you really made a buck last night?" Ryan asked, sitting up straighter in his seat and stretching his lanky arms over his head. Cameron nodded and pulled the wad of ten dollars bills out of the gym bag sitting next to the counter. "What are you gonna do with it?"

She knew what she wanted to do with it, but she was a bit surprised that he was asking. "Well, do we have enough to cover the phone bill?" she asked. Ryan nodded. "Then I'm goin' grocery shopping after work," she smiled brightly. "And I'm buying fresh vegetables - nothing in a can," she added, bobbing her head happily. "And if you play your cards right, Mr. Tucker, you might just get steaks on the grill for dinner."

Ryan stood, laughing as he checked his watch. "Ya know what?" he asked, grabbing his car keys from the counter and moving around to hug his wife. "This wrestling thing might not be so bad after all." When she tilted her face, he covered her lips with his, savoring the taste that was sweetly Cameron. "I gotta get goin'," he growled, pulling back and grabbing her ass with both hands.

Cameron squealed slightly, pushing him away and handing him a metal lunchbox. "Go make us some money," she pointed toward the door, shocked when he kissed her again. "Be careful out there," she called.

He just waved her off as he headed out the door. Turning, he smiled. "I'm glad you did well last night," he winked.

"Thanks," she accepted the compliment with a blush, staring at the door as it shut behind him. Maybe Ryan would come around after all.

Though she considered cleaning up, Cameron could hear her mattress calling for her attention. She could catch a couple more hours of sleep before she had to be at the grocery store for her first job of the day. While standing on her feet for six hours wasn't a tantalizing concept, she knew that there was no other option. She might dream of professional wrestling, but it wasn't her career, and it wasn't her paycheck. Not yet anyway.

The ringing of the telephone woke Cameron again at seven o'clock. Groggily, she answered. "'lo?"

"Did I wake you?"

Squinting her eyes, Cameron wracked her sleep-rattled brain for some face to put with the gravelly voice. "Who is this?"

"Hm. . . I'll give you a hint," the soft, accented voice teased. "I'm a big fan."

As she struggled out from under her covers, Cameron swallowed a nervous lump in her throat. "Do I know you?" she asked, trying to hide the fear rising in her gut. While he sounded vaguely familiar, there was something gravely unsettling about being awakened by a man, claiming to be a fan, while she was home alone.

His rumbling laughter was quiet, but even. "It's Mark," he finally admitted. "I didn't scare ya, did I?"

Heaving a sigh of relief, Cameron growled. "You can't just call a girl and be all creepy sexy first thing in the morning," she chastised.

"You think I'm sexy?" Mark asked in a playful tone.

Cameron pouted, leaning against the headboard and blinking her eyes furiously. "I said creepy sexy," she yawned, stretching her arms above her head. "That's not a compliment," she added. "It's like a creepy guy tryin' to be sexy," she explained. "Like a rapist."

This time, Mark laughed a deep belly laugh. "I don't think I've ever had a woman tell me I sound like a rapist before," he said.

"Well, you might wanna keep it in mind the next time you make a wake up call." After a brief moment of silence, Cameron's brain began to catch up with her body. "So did you just call to scare me shitless, or did you actually want something?" She dragged her feet to the floor and began gathering her items for the shower.

"Actually, I did have a reason," Mark answered. "We're filmin' our No Mercy pay-per-view in Atlanta at the end of the month," he said. "And I was wondering if you would be interested in attending? As my guest? You and your husband," he added quickly, as if trying to keep her from getting the wrong idea.

Cameron couldn't stop the laugh that passed over her lips as she limped out of the bedroom, the muscles in her right thigh tight and sore. "Seriously? You'd do that for us?" Mark mumbled an affirmation. "That's awesome, Mark. I'll talk to Ryan, but yeah. I'd love to be there."

"Great," Mark responded. "Well, I'll let you get back to your dreams," he chuckled. "But I'll be lookin' forward to seein' you in a couple weeks, Cameron."

The way he said her name, the lazy manner in which it rolled over his lips, made her heart flutter in her gut as she mumbled her good bye. Now all she had to do was convince Ryan that they could afford a weekend in Atlanta. And convince herself that she was just excited about seeing a pay per view.