Ch28
Honor
Great sex? Check. Amazing friend? Check. Great listener? Check. Reliable? Check. Supportive? Check. Smart, honest, tactful, sweet, and hardworking? Check. He's perfect…for me?
On paper all of these qualities are a girl's dream. Plenty of girls pray nightly for a guy like Punk, contrary to his name he is quite remarkable. Being with him is easy, I let him lead and I follow, a little tiff here and there is to be expected but we get along seamlessly. So why is it that I feel like I'm missing something?
"Come here Pooka." He pats his lap, it's just me and him on the bus. Teen Wolf reruns are on TV, I forced him to watch though he thinks the show is silly. He'd much rather be watching something else entirely.
"I'm watching my show!" I giggle as he tickles the bottom of my foot. I put up with it trying to cuff his fingers until a Taco Bell commercial pops up on the screen.
"Now you're not!" Punk inclines himself up against the wall, kissing my shoulder, "Plus you've seen this before. You can quote your favorite scenes."
"Ahhh… We did enough of that last night." He pokes his bottom lip out, attempting to charm his way into my pants… well panties since I'm just in my underwear.
"Well let's do it again and again and again..." Punk mumbles against my tummy.
"Nope, Scott and Allison are about to seal the deal." I say pushing him away then crawl over his lap to pick up my cup of tea.
"Well I'm trying to seal my own deal here. That's better than watching people on TV get it on." He complains. Playfully he slaps my ass causing me to almost drop the cup. Normally horse play like this would have me in his lap but not now. I'm sore and tired from last night both in and out the ring.
"Ow!" I groan, "Jerk! That fucking hurt! Later Punk. I promise."
"What are you going to do about it?" he waggles his eyebrows. I bite his shoulder then peck his lips returning back to my place.
"That. Now chill out, please." I settle back against the couch cradling my mug in my hands.
"He's getting some and I'm not!" he complains as he pulls my leg over his lap. "I don't even know what you see in this show. Why do you even like it?"
"It's a show full of mythical creatures and raging hormones tied in with suspenseful riddles and plots. Who wouldn't like stuff like this? I don't ask you why you like hockey…"
"Plenty of people object to it. It's juvenile," Punk grumbles placing me back on the couch then goes to the kitchen.
Honestly? I'm tired of so much sex. If there's anything him and Randy have in common it's their sex drive.
"Punk..." This is the only time we have an spat is when I don't want sex. He's slamming stuff down and grumbling. "We're doing this again?"
"Yeah we are!" I hear this and I get really annoyed. "I bet if I were Orton, you'd spread 'em in a heartbeat. I can't even get anything from you anymore. But him? You can't keep your mits off of him."
"What?! Would you rather someone has to pry me off of you with a crowbar? Punk, I'm not arguing with you." I roll my eyes and go to my suitcase pulling on a pair of yoga pants, an aqua blue tye-dye hip scarf, and I pull on my sports bra over my regular t-shirt bra. I grab my phone to search a local dance studio and so I can call up Avery I tell her to meet me there. In New York City they're easy to find.
"Hey Sebastian?" Punk's driver is a heavy built older fellow, with long white hair that's always in a neat braid trailing down his back. He used to be a roadie with Metallica and quite a few other bands before he became a driver.
"Yes sugar," I giggle at his thick laden southern accent, "C'mon now darlin' what you got to ask me?"
"Do you mind dropping me off at… hold on." I glance at my phone, "uh… Jennise's Dance Theater and Studio?" I giggle at him, since I've been riding with Punk Sebastian has taken a liking to me. (Probably because I've a slight accent myself.)
"Sure thing, sugar cheeks."
"Thanks Sebastian," I kiss his cheek.
"Now, hold on little missy! Sit right here and talk with me for a minute." I slide in the seat next to him and wait for him to begin. "I'm not tryin' to be a noser, but what's goin' on with you and that Orton fellow?"
"What? Sebastian he's my ex." He nods, his eyes scanning the road as he pays attention to the GPS.
"I'd appreciate it if you'd warn him not to grab the bull by the horns, he's not going to like the reaction he gets. That's all fine and dandy you two can be civil with one another…but he needs to learn some respect and you need to set those boundaries. Place physical boundaries. You don't flirt with your ex if he's your ex, sweetheart." Sebastian points to Punk in the back corridor of the bus. "Kid back there doesn't let on but he's crazy 'bout ya girl. I'm sure you hear it over and over again but you're not the one for him. Especially if you're going to be pulling crap like that around him." Sebastian is the third person to say this to me, it's making me feel like I'm doing something wrong. I love Punk, I wouldn't have gotten close to him if I didn't.
"Sebastian I love Punk. He's good to me, real good to me."
"You ever wonder why?" He arches one bushy grey brow at me glancing in my direction.
"No. That's what a relationship is all about. We're supposed to treat each other the way we want to be treated. Randy and I are friends. Just friends. I love Punk." I rub my hands down my face.
"Darlin' you might love him, but you aren't in love with him. He's giving you everything you ask for because he could lose you at any second. He's floundering to keep you. It may not be apparent to ya darlin' but damnit he's already lost. He just won't admit defeat."
We turn on to a street lined with expensive looking cars, "Sebastian I love Punk."
"You do what makes you happy darlin'. Please don't hurt him anymore than ya have to. I'm not going to hate you for your choice." We come to a stop in the middle of a parking lot behind the brick building with giant bulletproof windows. "You're still a youngin' no one's tellin' ya to settle down for life. Like I told my daughter, fall in love as much as you want. Just keep your goals in mind."
"Thanks Sebastian," say giving him a hug.
"You go on. Call me when you're done I'll come back and get ya." He squeezes me again.
I hop up off the seat with my phone in hand, a bottle of water, and I bound down the steps. As I leave Punk emerges from the bedroom clearly still irritated. It makes me wonder what it looks like to him when he sees Randy and I talking to or texting each other.
