Apology for the following authors note: I'm sorry, but I need to say a lot of stuff. c:
First off: I've been struggling with some pretty weird writers block, and I've tried everything. I've been reading a lot, using online generators, and...yes...reading even more. I've tried just pushing through it, but nothing has really been working. That's why my recent updates have either been short, or lacking in content. So, I'm asking for a little bit of help. I wanted to know if any of you were interested in either helping me develop a new story, or just helping me come up with ideas/scenes for any of my current stories so that I can get back on track. Of course, I'll give credit where credit is due, so don't think that I'm being selfish, please! And, by no means do you have to help me; I just wanted to know!
Next: The scene written in italics is NOT a part of the Total Divas confessional like in the previous story! Until I bring back the show in the story, any scenes written in italics will be in third-person point of view. Just in case any of you got confused, I wanted that to be out there.
Well, phew. That's it!
Enjoy! :)
The first RAW after any pay-per-view is always full of surprises and change for everyone in the WWE. There's always a title change, return, retirement, debut, or even a change in powers on occasions. And, as always, for me at least, there was a disappointment.
First there was the problem with Randy; resolved. And, now the problem with my knee; unresolved. Everything was going in cycles of frustration, and it felt like nothing could go right without something going wrong.
After I'd been stripped of the title, I'd spent the night of Extreme Rules watching Paige début and take the Divas division by storm. Some people discouraged it, but I didn't see the problem. Sure, I was still pissed about having my championship taken away from me, but I knew that the only way I was going to get over it would be to face the facts: I'm not the champion anymore.
So, tonight I was planning on doing exactly that. Facing the facts. I'm not the champion. I'm injured. But, I'm still employed.
For now.
"It took you long enough to get here," Jon teased as I limped towards him. "Rough flight?"
Shaking my head, I gestured towards the bell boy who'd helped me carry my luggage up to the hotel room. "It was normal. I guess, for someone with a bad knee."
"You really need to let it go, Chey. Complaining about it isn't going to heal it."
"That's easy for you to say," I said flatly, "I'm the one with everything falling apart." He looked down and stuck his hands in his pockets. I could tell that something was bothering him, but I couldn't tell what it was from just the look itself. "Is everything okay?"
He shrugged. "It's normal."
Frowning at the repetition of my lazy response, I crossed my arms. "You can lie to me, Good. Now tell me what's going on."
We both walked deeper into the hotel room, him draping his arm over my shoulder, and we entered the "living room" where we sat down on the small provided couch.
"I got a call from the board this morning." I nodded, pleading him to continue. "They're taking the title from me tonight, too."
My eyes widened and my heart dropped. "What? Why would they do that?"
"There...were some complications. I'm losing it in a 20-man Battle Royal tonight."
"Complications?" That was all I'd heard. "What kind of complications?"
He sighed. "Word got around about the arguments I'd been having with Randy."
Arguments? They only time they'd ever communicated was the sole time I'd walked in and stopped them. Unless...no. He wouldn't. Not after I asked him not to.
"Jon," I scolded.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I couldn't help myself. After what he did to you, I needed him to know that he wasn't getting away with it."
Standing up quickly, and hurting my knee in the process, I began to limp around on my crutches, pacing the room. "I told you not to do anything about it. Everything was just going to go away."
"I said I was sorry."
"Is sorry going to get our lives back?" He looked up at me with sorry eyes, but I couldn't stop. "We're dysfunctional, Jon. Ever since this whole thing got started, we've been ruining things for each other."
"What do you mean by that? We had no say in any of this."
I shook my head. "We got together, and now we're ruining our careers."
"Our careers aren't over. Hell, they're just getting started."
My brain was getting an information overload. I wasn't sure if it was all the medication I was on, or the fact that everything in my life was turning around in circles; but, either way, things were getting difficult.
"I don't know what to do," I admitted before settling back down on the bed, throwing my head into Jon's chest.
He began to rub my shoulder with his hand before placing a kiss on my temple. "You worry too much."
"How can I not? Nothing is working out."
"Right now," he said, trying to make it fit in with what I'd said. "Nothing is working out right now. But, this isn't the ending of anything. You've had to deal with a lot of crap lately, and things are just settling back down."
I pulled away and raked a hand through my hair. "I'm sorry for saying that we're dysfunctional."
He laughed and pulled me in for a kiss. "We are, babe."
He knew that she'd be alone on Jon's new bus. Jon had a match tonight on RAW, and even though he had one of his own, it wasn't for another hour or so.
Randy walked through the thick, humid air with determination. After the trouble she'd caused him over the past few weeks, he knew that they needed to sit all this out.
Truth be told: he missed her. He missed hearing her walking into his hotel room after her workout, he missed the smell of her body mist that she'd spray once she got out of the shower. They were only together for a couple of months, but he'd never missed anything that much in his life besides his daughter.
And Lord knows he'll barely get to see her again.
There was silence in the parking lot at the arena, but he didn't mind. He figured that it would give them a better opportunity to talk in private. The silence gave him a sense of relief. As if he didn't need to worry so much about someone coming by and thinking the wrong thing, or better yet, putting the pieces together and understanding everything that was going on.
All in all, he only wanted to see her. To feel her warmth. To smell the fresh lilac scent that always surrounded her body. To taste the minty taste off her lips. Hell, he missed every little thing about her. Her hair, her eyes, her smile. Everything. It was all a distant memory to him now.
In fact, he hated himself for what he'd done. Once he got the deal with the 'Authority' to put Evolution back together, he was able to recollect himself again. Nothing angered him to that point anymore. Nothing made him tick the way Cheyenne had when he was in his dark place. He was tamed.
She was his tamer.
His fast heartbeat slowed to a steady, rhythmic thump as he could smell the lingering scent of lilacs in the air. He knew she was close. But, it wasn't until he was standing on the metal steps to the front door of the bus that he really felt her presence. Like she was standing right in front of him.
She was supposed to go inside to watch Jon's match from his locker room, but after she caught a glimpse of his tour bus, she opted for that instead. It was considerably smaller, but in the cozy way. The way that made her feel better about being on the road nearly everyday of the year. It gave her piece of mind.
Cheyenne had heard the footsteps of someone on the pavement from a few feet away from the front door, and it was her curiosity that got the best of her. Knowing that it couldn't be Jon - his match was just getting started up - she pulled a few stands of hair behind her ears and walked slowly towards the front door.
"Hello?" she asked once Randy knocked on the door lightly.
Hearing her voice caused him to lose his breath. He'd never missed such a sound ever before in his life. He at such a loss for words, that no sound escaped his lips. He simply stood there, waiting for something to happen.
Before she could say something more, her adrenaline kicked in and she opened the door. Her first instinct was to slam the door in his face, and surprisingly enough, his first instinct was the stick his arm out and stop her from doing so. They stood like that, in the thick, humid air for minutes before Randy cleared his throat.
"Can we talk?"
"No," she said dismissively.
This changed something within him. Before he got to her, he'd wanted nothing more than to hold her, but her rebuttal was changing his mind.
"I just want to talk to you, Cheyenne."
She shook her head and bit back tears. "I can't," she muttered, "talk to you."
"Why not? It's not like you have anything better to do," he said with a sly grin forming on his face. He felt confident that she wouldn't say no, and once she had, he knew that he needed to change his tactics. Force her to say yes.
"I'm busy," she uttered, barely hesitating to respond.
Tilting his head to the side, he pursed his lips just enough for them to show. "Calm down, babe."
"Don't," she said angrily, "call me babe. Don't ever call me babe."
He nodded and backed up, putting his hands up in surrender. "Fine," he sighed. "Have it your way. But, just don't forget me, okay?"
She couldn't respond. She could barely breathe. If it wasn't enough that everything was falling apart in front of her eyes, she had her messy past following her around and lurking behind every corner that she turned.
He walked away, and she stayed behind, watching him leave. Watching him walk away, where he would sit and wait for the right moment to come back and pick apart the life that she builds for herself.
Exactly like a predator always does.
