Chapter 11: Getting To Know You
Lets just say that Kofi and Mickie didn't win their match. They had put up one hell of a fight but in the end, David made Kofi submit to the sharp shooter. I shudder every time I think about that move. I've never been put in it but Tyson has and he swears that the pain is like nothing he's ever been put in before.
After the last match, a street fight between Dave Batista and John Cena, I head to my car. I need to get away and I know that, even though I'm not old enough to drink yet, this bar I passed on my way to the arena this morning is the perfect place to do so. It's not out in the open on a highway but just there enough so that I won't be totally alone.
When I get to the door of the bar I instinctively get my wallet out, knowing that the bouncer is going to ask me for my I.D. I smile at him, "Hey." I try to hand him my I.D but he won't take it.
"Please Miss Stevenson," he smiles, "I'm a big fan. Go right on in."
I smile as I enter the bar. Obviously being a superstar has a few perks. I sit at the bar and order a Diet Pepsi. When the bartender hands me it he smiles, "No charge. The man at the end of the bar says he has it covered." I take the Pepsi and then look. Sitting at the end of the bar is Chris and damn he looks good. He's not dressed in his normal ring outfit of course but he's also not dressed in a suit. A tight black muscle shirt covers his chiseled torso and he's wearing a pair of tight jeans.
I walk over to him, "Thanks."
"It's the least I can do after asking you to lie about…the incident," he frowns, "Please, have a seat."
I sit across from him, "So that's all it is to you? The incident?" I sadly ask.
"It was more…much more." Chris smiles, putting one of his hands on mine. We're staring at each other.
"And yet you have Maryse." I frown.
"Correction. Had Maryse."
I look at him, "You…you broke up with her?"
"Yeah. Catching her in my locker room with David Hartt Smith was the last straw. I've given her my heart and she's given me nothing but heartache," he nods taking a sip of whatever he's drinking, "I don't like to be lied to. Not after what I did to my wife. After that I swore I'd never lie to anyone ever again."
I smile at him, "You told her that we kissed?"
"Yeah," he nods.
"You were trying to protect me from her?" I ask.
"Not her…someone else." Chris murmurs. It's quiet for a few minutes before he says, "You want to know something?"
"Sure."
"I told you about me but I hardly know anything about you."
"Not much to tell. I'm not very interesting." I shrug.
"Bullshit. You're one of the most interesting girls I've ever met. I don't know anyone who'd be brave enough to accept a match against a guy. Most of the diva's these days are just eye candy. I mean, you've got your exceptions, like you and Beth Pheonix, but most divas are the same. It's refreshing to see someone who can actually fight. And to see that person brave enough to fight alone on Raw."
I can't help but blush, "What do you want to know?"
"Let's see… I know what your name is, where you're from, and judging by your theme music and ring lights I also know your favorite type of music and your favorite color," Chris ponders, "Any siblings?"
"No, I'm an only child." I smile, "My parents had so many problems with having me that they didn't want to have to go through that again. You?"
"A younger brother," nods Chris, "His names Jason. He didn't want anything to do with wrestling or hockey. He's an accountant back home in Calgary."
"I see. Well, I would have liked to have had someone to hang out and play with. I was different than most of the girls in my neighborhood. They really didn't like any sport. When they were playing with Barbie Dolls, I was busy playing football."
"I have another question," Chris says, "You went to The Dungeon. What year did you start?"
"Let's see…I was a freshman in high school when I started and I'm a year out of high school now. About five years ago. I was 14."
"Ah. I started when I was 14 too. That was forever ago. I'll be 38 in December." Chris smiles.
I frown, "We're really that far apart in age?"
"Yeah, I guess we are," he replies softly, "And that's even if you want to date me…"
"Is there a reason that I shouldn't date you?"
Chris sits back in his chair, pensively. "Meghan…I'm a bad person. I cheated on my wife for god's sake! That there's reason enough to hate me. Not to mention I am very rude, crude, hateful, spiteful…"
"On television," I interrupt. "I've seen you when you're not. Like when David attacked me. You could have stayed behind in your locker room and not have ran out there to save me. Deep down you're a good person. You just got a little lost along the way."
He stares at me as the jukebox starts to play a slow song. "Want to dance?"
"First answer the question I'm about to ask. And you have to be completely honest."
"Okay."
"What are we? A couple? Just friends?" I ask.
He bites his lip and for a moment I can tell he's lost in thought. Then he replies, "I'm not sure. When I'm around you Meghan I…I just feel right. I can't explain how I feel. It's like everything I've ever done wrong doesn't matter. What do you think we are?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe…maybe we could be more than friends." I offer.
"Would you like to be more?"
"Yes." I nod.
"So would I." Chris agrees.
"So are we?"
"I guess so."
I beam, never having felt so happy in my entire life. With my mind made up, I just feel right. I know he loves me and I know in my heart that I love him. He pushes his chair out and gets up, holding a hand out to me. "Is something wrong?" I teasingly ask.
"May I have this dance?" he asks softly and gently.
I put my hand in his and he leads me to the dance floor. I wrap my arms around his neck and he wraps his around my waist. I feel right in his arms, like I've belonged there for a while. It's like we're locked away in our own little world: just me, Chris, and the music playing in the background. Perfect.
I lay my head against his chest, just listening to the thump of his heartbeat. I close my eyes and think about what life could be like with Chris, two people who are a couple and couldn't be better friends. Now, I don't have the same conception of forever as most girls. I don't dream of the white picket fence and kids running around with the dog. My conceptions a little different. A nice hotel room every night while we travel, Chris being faithful to me and being the perfect tag team partner, maybe a few kids. Who knows?
As our dance ends I open my eyes and look at Chris. There are tears forming in his eyes, "Chris…what's wrong?"
"I can't believe I have you. You're perfect."
"Chris I'm not…"
"But even more than that, you're mine." Chris smiles.
And I can't help but agree.
