The poster's eyes seemed to stare at her as she modeled her final choice of an outfit in the mirror. It had taken a half hour for Danielle to decide on her clothes, finally opting for the casual look: a pair of blue jeans and a black sweater. Taking a shower, doing her hair, and applying her make up took up only an hour of her time, but cleaning up her bedroom seemed to be taking forever.

Just fifteen minutes ago, the small bedroom she occupied looked as though a tornado had blown through straight from Oz. Somehow, by a miracle, and maybe with some help from some magic red slippers, Danielle managed to put everything away and still have a few minutes to spare to check up on everything.

She quickly checked her refrigerator and found that the new carton of eggs, bags of cheese, carton of milk, bags of fresh vegetables, carton of orange juice, and various other items had all been successfully retrieved. Not to mention, the dishes and table were set up exactly as she'd asked her best friend earlier.

Thank God for Julia Dottrina, she graciously thought.

"Alright, John, I'm ready for you…" she exhaled deeply, her eyes darting around the room to make sure that everything was in place. "I think."

John looked down at the slip of paper in his hand, silently praying that he hadn't gotten the wrong address. If he had, he'd never make it to Danielle's apartment on time and she'd probably leave, thinking he'd stood her up. Once again, that was the furthest thing from his mind.

Danielle wasn't like most of the women he'd known in his past, ex-girlfriends included. She understood where her priorities lay and how important it was to just live life to the fullest, even at a young age.

For the first time, John began to think about her age. She was a day over twenty-two and he was rapidly approaching his twenty-eighth birthday. Six years didn't seem like much when he heard about a man of thirty-six marrying a thirty-year old woman, but this was different. His family wouldn't care and in fact, he knew that they'd adore her, but it was her family that worried him slightly. How could she hide her wrestling career from her family when it was his as well?

Danielle Landon was certainly no pushover and fought for what she wanted, but she also clearly knew when some things just weren't worth it. He hoped that he was worth it to her.

John had never expected, in a million years, to meet a girl like her. True, there were girls in the WWE that were gorgeous, and nice, to boot, but there was no complexity when it came to their characters. Danielle could be serious and tough when she wanted to be or fun-loving and flirtatious, but it was her softer side that attracted him to her the most. Typical problems he had overheard on Smackdown ranged from running out of makeup to bad hair days to fashion crisis, but John couldn't imagine hearing that from her on a daily basis.

No, he knew quite well what Danielle's biggest problem was: her mother. John knew that they had a good relationship, but it was precisely that aspect of their bond that troubled Danielle the most when it came to breaking the news to her mother.

She was afraid to lose her.

Traveling up the stairs of the apartment complex, to the third floor, John began to think of ways to possibly make a move on her. He wasn't going to try anything stupid or anything that could be misconstrued as chauvinistic and rude… it was more of a question of what to say and finding the right moment.

And after losing out plenty of girls in the past, John wanted to make one thing clear to himself: he was not going to lose this one.

The sound of a chime echoed loudly through the silent house, sending Danielle into a brief panic.

He's at the door, she thought. He's at the door!

Composing herself, her subconscious quickly reminded her what to do: Answer the door.

Unlatching the brass chain lock, Danielle pulled the door open and found John standing before her in a yellow polo and blue jeans, flowers in hand.

"Hey," he smiled at her.

Immediately, her knees went slightly weak.

Come on, Danielle, her mind screamed at her. You can get hit by 250 pound men in a wrestling ring and not fall over, but you're going to let one smile do you in?!?

"Hey yourself," she replied, exchanging a grin with him. "My, my. You clean up well."

"Thank you," John nodded graciously. "But I could certainly say the same for you. Oh… and these are for you," he handed her the bouquet of spring flowers.

"Aww, thanks, John. That was sweet of you," she received the bouquet and whirled around towards the kitchen to find a maze, her hair following suit, allowing John to catch the scent of her hair.

Roses, he announced decidedly in his mind.

"Please, please," she waved him into the apartment, placing the flowers in a vase and filling it up with some water. "Don't just stand there, come in!"

He entered the room and looked around, "This is a really nice apartment. You share it with two other girls, right?"

"Yeah," Danielle nodded in concurrence, "My best friends, Kasey and Julia. Those girls are the only reason I've survived college," she added, beginning to gather ingredients from the refrigerator and move them to the counter.

"I don't know how you do it," he bounced his shoulders once in amazement, sitting down on one of the chairs at the table. "I could barely handle school on its own, even when I was given some slack because I was on the football team at Springfield. But you… you're a bright young woman at a great school, who's getting up extra early every morning to train. That's crazy, Danielle."

"Yeah," she shrugged, taking out a frying pan and a skillet. "But rebels are supposed to be crazy. By the way… would you like an omelet or scrambled eggs? I can put in just about anything."

"I guess I'll have an omelet. Put in whatever veggies you've got…and cheese," he smiled. "I haven't had a decent, home-cooked breakfast in ages."

"And unless I cook for you another time, you'll never have another one like it," she shook her head playfully from the stove.

"I hope you can some time," John replied sincerely. "I can't cook for my life. I can make pasta and cereal, but that's about it."

"Well, come over here and maybe you'll learn something."

He pushed his chair away from the table and walked into the kitchen.

"Something smells good," he announced, sniffing the air.

"It's your eggs, John," she answered as he stepped up behind her. "I told you… you'll never have another meal like it, unless I cook for you again."

He propped his head up on her right shoulder, looking down at her hands at work and smiling.

"Like I said before, Danielle," John turned his cheek towards her shoulder, briefly reveling in the floral scent of her caramel blonde locks and the soft cotton fabric of her sweater, "I hope so."

Immediately, a chill ran down her spine and his voice reverberated within her body, within her mind, and within her soul. There was something about John Cena that got to her and whatever that something was, Danielle didn't want it to go away.

"Be careful what you say, John," she warned him.

"I'm just being honest," he assured her, continuing to talk directly into her ear. "I'm a pretty stand up guy, you know?"

"I know, believe me I know. That's one of the things I like about you, John," Danielle sighed, continuing to watch over the eggs, separating them from the pan with the spatula as she spoke.

"I hope you realize that your cooking isn't the reason I like you."

Danielle whipped her head in his direction.

Had she really heard that right?

"What-what did you say?" she stammered in shock.

"I said I like you, Danielle," he repeated to her, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "A lot. I know it's only been less than a day, but…" he pointed to the blatant smile now gracing his face. "You see this?"

"Yeah," she managed to breathe out.

"I haven't been able to stop doing this since I met you."

Danielle broke their stare for a moment to flip the omelet and then slide it onto the plate, followed by her own from the other pan, as John removed his temple from her shoulder.

Honestly, all she wanted was to do was eliminate any distraction there might have been from the moment, yet now she was silently kicking herself for possibly destroying it.

Swiftly, she pivoted to face him, looking him into his perpetually deep, turquoise eyes, noticing the height differential for the very first time.

Standing at six feet, one inches tall, John towered over her petite 5'4" frame. She'd always enjoyed being with men who were taller than her, but every memory of every single guy she'd been enamored with throughout her life had been washed away with one look into those deep blue orbs of his.

"Do you mean that, John?" she stared him down, placing her hands on her hips.

"I don't say things that I don't mean," he replied, continuing to seek out an answer in her hazel eyes, but finally relenting to drop his stare.

Danielle let out a heavy sigh, figuring that she had just killed the moment altogether. What a waste.

Her eyes followed John's pacing across the gleaming tiles of her kitchen, occasionally followed by a pause and his hand sliding up and down his jaw line.

"John," she called to him softly. "I…I…I…"

"No, Danielle, it's okay," he put his hands up to stop her from digging herself further into the hole she already was in. "I understand."

"That's what I'm trying to say!" she cried out in frustration. "You don't understand!"

"Then make me," he ran his left hand over his closely-cut brown hair. "Make me understand."

She turned around to haphazardly mix the potatoes that she'd left sizzling on the stovetop, before continuing the conversation momentarily.

"John, the last thing I was looking for in life was a relationship, okay?" she threw her hands up in the air, allowing them to quickly fall to her hips. "I've been let down way too many times to let love distract me from where I wanted to go and what I wanted to be, but then last night happened," Danielle's face softened as she leaned backwards against the countertop. "And… and I met you. I never met someone that understood what I built my life on, the principles behind it, and the way my mind works. Talking to you made me see that I wasn't alone in the world. I know, I know. I have my best friends, who know everything about me, but they don't know what my mind is like at the end of the day!" she raised her voice slightly and the shut her eyes tightly to prevent the tears from falling.

Yet when she blinked, her vision was blurred and her eyes watery.

"I know exactly what that's like," John nodded knowingly, somewhat caught off guard at her honesty.

"That's what scares me, John," she admitted, a lone tear scraping away at her porcelain skin.

"Danielle, there's no reason for you to fear me… at all. I just want you to know that."

"I don't fear you," Danielle shook her head honestly.

"Then what do you fear?" he began walking towards her. "I know it's not any wrestler or for that matter, any tattooed woman in…"

"Us, John!" she yelled, completely aggravated by her inability to make up her mind. "I'm afraid that if we start something… we won't finish it."

"You make this sound like it's a project," he laughed, much to her dismay.

"Don't patronize me, Cena," she spat at him harshly, switching the stove to off. "I've been left dreaming of a life that never came to be way too many times before, okay? The last thing I need is for that to happen again…"

"So what are you going to do? Let this pass you by?" he questioned angrily.

"What do you want me to say, John?" she rubbed her temples roughly.

"Look," he held his hands up in mock surrender, trying to solidify a temporary cease fire with her. "I never meant to start an argument with you over this, Danielle. I just wanted to be honest with you and let you know how I feel. If you don't feel the same way, I can't force you to. All I want you to do is to just repeat what your heart is telling you," he finished, but held a finger up to silence her before she could begin again. "Not your mind, your heart."

"I want there to be an 'us,'" she answered shakily.

"That's what I want too," he assured her. "You're the first girl who's completely herself around me and I don't want to lose that, Danielle," John wiped at one of her tears with the pad of his thumb as she leaned into the palm of his hand . "I don't want to lose you."

"You don't have to," she smiled contently, enjoying the feel of his touch.

"That's good," he beamed at her. "Because otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to do this."

John leaned forward, cutting through the empty space between him and Danielle, to connect with her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt his lips capture hers, reveling in the moment.

A few moments later, he pulled back a few inches, leaving Danielle with eyes still closed.

"Hey, John?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yeah?"

"I don't want you lose you either," she admitted.

"That's good," he smirked slightly, trying to hide the fact that he was just as excited as she was. "But I think you owe me breakfast..."

"Yes, I think I do. Sit down," she laughed, stacking some potatoes on both plates, as John followed orders.

She placed an orange juice carton on the table, then returned a few moments later with their respective plates and sat down.

"So we're official now?" Danielle asked, dropping her fork on her plate, and placing her left hand down on the table, as she realized what her words meant.

"I guess so," John responded, covering her left hand with his right.

"Good."

"Yeah, I think so too. I just have to warn you, Dan," he spoke honestly, using his nickname for her for the first time, "This isn't going to be easy. I'm going to be on the road a lot and we're going to be apart for long stretches at a time. There are going to be nights when I am not myself because I'm dazed and/or in pain. Our relationship is never going to be a piece of cake."

"John, if I wanted easy, I wouldn't have become a wrestler."

"That's true. You know, in a month's time, you might even be out on the road with me."

"Yes," she admitted, "But I'd much rather be on RAW then Smackdown, babe. The title's there and the division's there."

"I understand that," he agreed with her, "But we'd still be traveling pretty close. Even though, as champ, I'm obligated to stay on Smackdown."

"I know that too, but you know what I also know?"

"What?" John chuckled, arching an eyebrow at her.

"In the WWE, anything can happen."

The week had gone by rather quickly, signaling the end of her spring break and of John's stay in Massachusetts. Truth be told, she'd gotten rather used to having him around and being with him most of the time. That didn't mean that she ditched her friends in the process at all and in fact, they enjoyed hanging out with John as much as she did. Then again, it didn't hurt that John had four brothers and a cousin that they could potentially choose from.

It was going to be hard for Danielle to get back to school the next day and refocus herself on everything that she had prioritized in her life. School came first and foremost, with only a month and a half or so left until graduation, and wrestling came second, followed by everything else.

Now, she didn't want to get ahead of herself, but Danielle knew in her heart that there was a good chance that she could be in the WWE by the beginning of summer. The only problem was still, of course, her mother.

Her eyes flickered to the clock, which read 8:11pm, signaling that it was time to call Mother Dearest.

She picked up the phone after the third ring.

"Hello?" her voice traveled through the speaker.

"Hi, Mom."

"Hi, Dani! How are you?" she asked excitedly.

"I'm good," Danielle replied to her question routinely. "I just figured I'd call to say hello. How's Dad?"

"He's good… just trying to figure out how to put together your sister's new desk," her mother sighed and Danielle heard some yelling in the background. "And it's not really going too well."

"So I hear…"

"So how are Julia and Kasey? It's probably slightly lonely up there with them back here for a while. I bumped into Kase and her mom at the mall the other day."

"Well, Mom, I must admit, it's not too lonely up in Boston," Danielle smiled coyly into the phone, fully understanding that her mom would pick up on the blatantly dropped hint.

"Danielle Rachel Landon!" she exclaimed in surprise. "What's his name?"

"His name is John and we've been together for about a week now. I met him at a bar down the street on my birthday and we went out for coffee after finding we were both bored. We pretty much started talking and realized how similar we were."

"Wow! That's good news, I'll be sure to tell your sister… what's he like?"

"He's about 6'1" with brown hair and bright turquoise eyes," Danielle began indulging in her conversation about her boyfriend.

"You and your blue-eyed boys," her mother teased her and Danielle pictured her mom rolling her chocolate brown eyes at the thought.

"He used to be a body-builder, Mom. That doesn't hurt."

"Finally, someone who might actually be able to match your metabolism," she continued to joke.

"Mom, please. But there's something you should know about John. He's older than me by more than a couple of years…"

"Well, sweetie, Dad and I are fourteen years apart. You know you're just not allowed to go above and beyond that!"

"He's twenty-eight," she forced out quickly.

Surprisingly, her mother didn't protest the relationship and only asked a single question.

"Does he treat you well?"

"Of course," Danielle answered immediately.

"Then that's all that matters," she cleared her throat and began to discuss a new topic, well… almost new. "You're coming down in three weeks, right? On Saturday for dinner?"

"I think so…" Danielle trailed off, thinking about the possibility of being a contracted WWE wrestler by then.

"Then bring John with you."

I knew it was too good to be true.

"He travels a lot, Mom. He's got a steady job that takes him on the road all the time, so I don't know if he'll be able…" her words were cut short by her ring tone, Celebrity Skin by Hole, sounding from across the room. "Mom? Give me a second, my cell phone's ringing."

"Okay, but if it's John, ask him!" she urged.

Ugh, now I'm stuck.

Danielle darted to her dresser and grabbed her ringing cell phone off the white mica top.

John Cena.

"Damn," she sighed disappointedly. She wanted to hear from him, but now he'd be forced to meet her parents. "Hello?" she answered.

"Hello there, babe," his voice graced her ears delicately, like wind chimes in the springtime.

"Hey you, what's up?"

"Not much, just wanted to see what you were up to?"

"I'm on the phone with my mother… and she wants to meet you. Already," she sighed.

"That's cool, I'm good with parents," he replied nonchalantly, failing to realize that his occupation would wind up as the topic of conversation. "By the way, I'm coming home on Friday of this week and then again, in three weeks. That way, I can see you very soon, and then in three weeks time, we can celebrate your signing of a WWE contract!"

"Please, sweetheart," Danielle cringed at his over-exuberance. "Please, don't jinx it."

"I forgot, I forgot," he apologized swiftly. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Just be forewarned, you're going to be meeting my brother, sister-in-law, her stepfather, and my nephew on Friday. Other than my brother and Rachel's stepdad, you'll be fine. They'll just be overprotective."

"I'm not nervous. It's going to be fine," John's voice soothed her frazzled nerves. "Get off the phone and tell your mother I say hello and that I'll see her in three weeks, alright?"

Flopping down on the couch, Danielle exhaled deeply.

Three weeks and everything changes, she thought.

"Alright, I will," she whined. "I'll talk to you later, John."

"Goodnight, Danielle… oh and by the way, I left something for you in your top drawer by your bed last night," he added suggestively.

"Do you have any idea how wrong that sounds?"

"Absolutely. Goodnight," he laughed and Danielle could picture him grinning smugly as he clicked off his phone.

God, how frustrated he made her.

"Mom?" she picked her cell phone up again.

"Have a nice little conversation?" a slightly younger teenage voice filled her ear.

"Good evening, Samantha," Danielle smiled into the phone, ready to begin her favorite part of the week. Sarcastic exchanges with her sister absolutely made her day. "I thought you'd be out flying on your broomstick right about now."

"Well, apparently, I'm not the only one riding a broomstick… I hear you're seeing some new guy."

"Get your mind out of the gutter, demon child…" she seethed into the phone. But yes. I am dating this guy named John. You'll meet him in three weeks," she answered plainly. "Put Mom back on the phone. Now."

"Oh, you're no fun," Samantha complained and obliged begrudgingly.

"I'm so glad that you and Sam get along, Danielle," she practically could hear her mothers hands hitting her hips, combined with a look of disapproval.

"Me too," she spoke quickly to avoid the subject of her sisterly bond. "That was John. He said to say hello and say that he'll be joining me in three weeks."

"Wonderful," her mother answered brightly and she knew that there were already wedding bells ringing in her mother's sometimes-twisted mind.

Not quite yet, Mother, she laughed in her head.

"So I'm sure I'll hear all about him from your brother this weekend!" her mom added excitedly. "I'm sorry, that's all I heard from your conversation. Anyway, I must go find your father and make sure he doesn't punch a hole through the wall."

"Good idea, Mom."

"Especially," she emphasized the word, "Since you'd be the one to fix it. I believe you put a fair share of holes through walls in your day, Danielle."

"Seven, actually."

"My point exactly. Goodnight, Danielle. Work hard!"

"I will, Mom," she replied routinely again and hung up the phone.

This was how every conversation seemed to end. If her mother only knew how hard she really worked…

As Danielle sat down on her bed, she began to think how interesting it would be to see how her mom reacted to wrestling being John's occupation of choice; even more interesting when she found out that her daughter had been training for almost four years to do the same.

Seventeen years of lying would come to an end and so might a twenty two year old bond between mother and daughter.

Looking at her end table, Danielle's frown turn into a bright grin, as she turned to the poster of John on her wall. "That's right! What the hell did you leave for me, you pervert?"

She slid open her drawer and found a loosely wrapped package sitting inside, right on top. Ripping away the wrapping paper, she removed an upside down, neatly folded black garment with white pinstripes

"I didn't know you were capable of folding anything, period…" her voice trailed off as she picked up the fabric and opened it.

"Chain Gang, number fifty-four," Danielle's hand flew to her mouth as she flipped it around. "Landon. You remembered, John."

Throwing it on over her black ribbed tank top, she couldn't help but admire herself in the mirror as she styled the mock football jersey.

It was fitting, both physically and mentally.

Danielle allowed a smile to creep up her face as she stared at her reflection in the glass, "Damn. I look good."