induratize

(v.) to make one's own heart hardened or resistant to someone's pleas or advances, or to the idea of love.

December 1999

"Are you drunk?"

"Why would you say that?" Paul questioned, burying his head into Stephanie's shoulder.

"… Because normally you absolutely hate PDA and I'm fairly sure you just tried to eat my face." She answered. Paul smiled at Stephanie before muttering a few unintelligible words in reply, and suddenly, a hand clapped on Paul's shoulder, startling Stephanie. When she looked up, two men were standing there, only one having put his hand on Paul.

"You good, man?" The man with his hand on Paul uttered. He nodded, however, seconds after, Paul turned around before leaning over a conveniently-placed trash can and expelling the contents of his stomach right in.

"Okay, okay, party's over for you, pal. I think it's time to get you home." One of the men uttered, wrapping an arm around Paul and pulling him up.

"Are you over the limit?" The other man asked stiffly.

"Does it matter? I've driven when I've been a mouthful away from blacking out. I'll be fine."

"No, you're about to have a kid. You can't get a DUI right now."

The first man rolled his eyes, knowing that his friend was completely right. He reached into his pocket before tossing his keys towards the other man.

"Take my car. If you total it, I will kill you."

The second man laughed until he realised that the first man had a completely solemn look on his face.

"Wait, I can't go. The party only started a couple of hours ago." Paul mumbled, furrowing his eyebrows. "I didn't even get the chance to play beer pong."

"There's always next year's Christmas party, buddy. Come on…" The second man muttered. Before he could start leading Paul away, Paul turned around and engulfed Stephanie in a huge bear hug. The half-Smirnoff-half-puke smell made Stephanie quietly retch, but she hugged him back nevertheless.

"I love you. Get home safe, okay?" Stephanie said.

"I will."

Paul turned around and headed out of the room, stumbling behind the second man. By the time the two got to the door, Paul was so terrible on his feet that the man had to wrap an arm around him and helped him the rest of the way out.

"Poor guy can't ever handle his liquor." The first man said, sitting down beside Stephanie.

"Tell me something else I don't know?" Stephanie replied, smiling. There was a moment of silence between the two when they made eye contact, and Stephanie felt obligated to break it by asking: "How's the wife?"

"Grouchy." The man instantly replied, taking a sip out of his red solo cup. "I had to spend a week convincing her to let me come to this. She was all panicky about what would happen if she went into labour while I was here."

"It's only a three-hour drive back, you'd make it with hours to spare."

"That's what I said, and besides, she's still got an entire month left." The man said before smiling, "But that's just her, I suppose. She's never been rational about these kinds of things."

"So, are you excited?" Stephanie asked.

"Terrified. I told the old lady I was going to cut out the drugs and alcohol. That-"

"Hasn't happened. Yeah, I can smell the straight tequila from over here." Stephanie interjected, motioning towards the cup in the man's hand. "But she's right, you know? You're about to be a dad. You can't be wondering around at midnight drinking straight liquor out of a plastic cup with a baby."

"Fuck me, you sound just like her. Maybe you should consider being a parent; you sound like one."

"Oh, fuck that, you know how much I hate kids."

It took Stephanie a few moments to notice that the man was staring at her after she stopped talking. When she looked towards him, their eyes instantly met, and a smile appeared on her face.

"I missed you in a weird way, you know? Ever since you left, no one else has popped up that's been quite like you. They're either the kind of asshole that's not funny, or the kind of funny that's too sensitive to really be funny." Stephanie uttered.

"So, you're saying I'm a funny asshole?"

"The best one I know."

"Well, I guess I'll just take that as compliment. I missed our talks. You can hold a conversation and you're nice to look at."

"So, you're basically saying that while I might be intelligent, the fact that I'm attractive is my strongest quality?"

"You couldn't be more right, you pretty little thing."

Stephanie couldn't help but laugh; partially out of horror, and partially out of happiness that the man she had secretly missed deeply, armed with his usual banter, was standing right in front of her again. The two found each other's eyes again for the third time that night, and this time, Stephanie knew that there was something there between them that wasn't there before.

Everything went so fast…

Stephanie didn't even notice the man's lips on hers until she heard his empty cup hit the ground.

He tasted like cigarettes, hard liquor and candy mints. She had absolutely no idea why, but Stephanie was already obsessed with it. Then suddenly, she came back down to Earth and realised what a horrible thing she was doing.

"Nope." Stephanie said forcefully the moment she pulled away, putting her hands on the man's chest. He grabbed them and she instantly pulled away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You're right, I shouldn't have- I really didn't-" The man stumbled over his words, running a hand through his hair. But all it took was one look at each other…

And Stephanie's lips were on his.

To the man, Stephanie tasted like sugar and weak Cosmopolitans. She didn't drink that much, and when she did, it was never anything hard; always a cocktail or a punch. Even though the man normally couldn't stand those kinds of people, he liked how it tasted on Stephanie.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" The man mumbled on her lips.

"Brian has your car, remember?" Stephanie whispered.

"Oh, that's right… Bathroom?"

Stephanie pulled away from the man and took a moment to think. It's harmless, Paul won't know, he isn't even here, Stephanie thought, But then….

"What about Be-"

The man put a finger on Stephanie's lips, a grin coming to his face.

"She won't know, my lips are sealed. And look around you, everyone else is too worried about who they're going to sleep tonight to even take a look over here. I guarantee that this will be just between us." He muttered.

Stephanie took one last look around; the man was right, not a single person was looking at them. With a shy smile, Stephanie reluctantly nodded, and the two headed out of their dark corner at the WWF's annual Christmas party and towards the men's bathroom. The clock above the bar had recently struck twelve-thirty…

Ariette Tallulah Levesque was conceived at exactly twelve-forty-five.

I struggled to find any appropriate words. The last I had heard, Cameron was attending Georgia Southern University in Statesboro, exactly 825 miles away (you best believe that I had worked that out before I touched down in New York).

"I saw you on TV last night, I just about died of shock. I didn't even know you were back from Asia." Cameron said.

God, he still had that southern twang that I made fun of when we were kids. He talks like his dad, well, he talks like- No, don't say that.

"Oh, yeah, I just got back yesterday. I literally got off the plane, went to HQ in Stamford and Grandpa was just like: "Hey, can you do this for me?"" I chuckled, "I'm still getting over my jet-lag." I wasn't. "So, what are you doing here?" I added, "I thought you'd be in Georgia at this time of year."

Cameron only looked down, a small smile coming to his face. His face was slightly red, almost like the fact that he wasn't at Georgia Southern was a source of embarrassment. Did he get expelled? Was he lying about attending college in the first place?

"I… um, well, I did a year at GS, but long story short, I hated it. Not college itself – I started studying journalism there and I loved it – but I couldn't stand the people there and I just didn't fit into any crowd at all. One of my lecturers suggested a transfer and gave me an Emerson College brochure, next thing you know I'm telling my parents that I'm moving to Boston for my sophomore year, well, telling them separately. Mom cried, Dad said: "There's not even any football there, what's the point?", but I'm happy. I came down over the weekend with some friends to see an art show."

I was floored. The Cameron I remembered walked around in cowboy hats, was a die-hard Spurs fan and centred his entire existence on setting up slip n' slides with anything but water. Now, Cameron was… an art nerd?

"That's- wow. So, you're still doing journalism?"

"Yeah, I have a blog now actually. I'm focussing more on sports journalism now I'm at Emerson, so I write about college sports around Boston."

Good for him, he's perfectly happy. That's more than I can say for myself at the moment.

"So, anyway, that's enough about me. What about you? How was Vietnam? And out of all the places in the world, why Southeast Asia?" Cameron asked, smiling.

"Well, it felt like a whole different world to me, and I think that's what I wanted: To step into a world where I wouldn't be reminded of everything that happened." I answered.

Cameron looked down awkwardly, "Listen, I just wanted to say that Dad's sorry, he knows he did wrong, and he just really wants to be in touch with you." He uttered. A hesitancy lingered in his voice, like Cameron wasn't at all comfortable with what he was saying.

I softly sighed before shaking my head, "I don't know. I think- I think it's best if he stays out of my life. I hope you understand…"

"I- well, yeah-"

"Cameron! Come on! Our train leaves at nine-thirty!"

I looked over Cameron's shoulder to see a well-dressed man and woman who looked about his age standing near the door of the lobby. When I looked back at Cameron, I realised how well-dressed he was as well. The old Cameron tended to walk around in cargo shorts and, even when his parents had company over, nothing else; 'no shoes, no shirt, no service' regulations were an obstacle for him in high school. Granted, Cameron wasn't quite a Luka Sabbat when it came to fashion yet, but a double denim ensemble over a white t-shirt did wonders for him.

"I better get going." He muttered.

There was a brief silence, perhaps Cameron was expecting me to say something about how I had somewhere to be as well. I didn't. I didn't even have to be checking out. I could stay in New York forever if I wanted to.

"Can I get your number?" Cameron asked, leaning in closer. "I know things are a bit fucked-up, but I don't want us to be strangers. We don't have to be best buddies, but maybe a text every once and a while, you know? Just to check in?"

I thought for a moment.

He's a nice guy, and you can't just blow him off, he's genuinely making an effort. Maybe there can be something between us other than awkwardness and forced politeness…

"Okay… alright."

"BOY, HAVE I GOT SOME NEWS FOR YOU, GRAMPS!" I boomed the moment I opened the doors to Grandpa's office.

"Oh, that's good. How was your date?" He muttered idly.

I looked to see Grandpa's eyes glued to his computer, glasses on and fingers typing. Obviously, not a single one of my words had actually been comprehended.

"Oh, don't even get me started on that. Anyway, you will never guess who I ran into at Four Seasons." I raved, putting my hands on his desk.

"Well, you're not currently a hysterical mess so it couldn't have been someone too important." Grandpa sighed.

"Oh- Stuff it, Gramps. It was Cameron. Get this, he's going to Emerson College. You know, 'yeehaw' Cameron." I said, stumbling through my words as took a seat on the other side of his desk.

"Cameron, like Cameron your-"

"Yes. That Cameron. I saw him at the Four Seasons, he said he came down to see an art show." I raved. "I just have one thing to say: What the fuck?!"

"Language."

"He's supposed to be in Georgia, Grandpa. I thought I was going to be away from everyone." I hissed.

"Would you just calm down?! He's harmless, it's not like he did anything wrong. He probably feels just as awkward and out-of-place as you do."

There was a period of stillness between us. I realised that I was being ridiculous; Cameron and I, while we maybe weren't on the same boat, were most definitely in the same stretch of sea. He wasn't the asshole, he was just another victim.

"Hey, while I have you here…" Grandpa said, breaking the silence. "Listen, the people love you, and I know you're not qualified, but how do you feel about coming back to Raw next week in Worcester?"

"Uh…"

I loved the spot I did with Ronda, but I wasn't sure I could take the crippling "oh god, what if the whole thing is fucking awful?" feeling again. Plus, I felt awkward about the prospect of seeing Colby again. God, I had read that entire situation so wrong. Next time, unless the guy explicitly states that it's a date, automatically assume that his solid ten girlfriend will be tagging along.

"Come on, we'll do two spots this time."

"Okay, you do realise that no part of that sentence makes me feel any better about going back again? That's twice as much to remember, twice as much room to fail and twice as much chance of creepy perverts talking about me like I'm a cut of meat on Twitter."

"First, I'll give you the scripts tomorrow, so that's not a problem. Second, you're not going to fail, again, we won't do it live so if it's bad, it won't go to air. Third, don't search yourself on any kind of social media and only occasionally read comments, and I hate to say it because this is you're my granddaughter and you shouldn't have to, but you'll get used to it."

"Grandpa, I don't know." I muttered.

"If you do this for me, you can have anything you want. Name it and I'll give it to you; a private island in the Caribbean, I'll get one of those pink Lamborghinis like the Dashians have."

"It's the Kardashians, Grandpa. And I don't want an island or a Lamborghini, but…." I paused. I can't believe I'm actually fucking doing this. "I want an apartment in the city, not a penthouse, just a studio apartment that's not falling to pieces."

Grandpa lowered his eyebrows, "That's it?"

"Yes. Were you expecting me to ask for a castle in Ireland or something?"

"Well, I was expecting something more… exciting."

I sighed as I got up from my seat, "Leaving now…" I muttered before rolling my eyes and walking towards the door.

"Hey, hey…" Grandpa stood up from his chair. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to call you boring, come on, look at me."

I groaned and turned back toward Grandpa, folding my arms around chest. I looked slightly above him, avoiding his gaze.

"You're modest and you're grateful for all that you have been given. Not a word of this leaves this room, but it's a quality that all of your sisters are sorely lacking right now, so I have a theory on where you really got that from-"

"Grandpa."

"Okay, okay, I'll stop. But, and I know you hate that part of you and that if you could you could wish it away, you would, this whole thing isn't going to go away and no one's going to forget it. Can you just look at me and acknowledge it?"

I stood there in silence. I can't, I won't.

"I'm gonna go now. I gotta go and unpack all my stuff, say hi to Grandma, I really can't stay." I uttered, stumbling over my words. I turned around again and opened the door; the feeling of Grandpa drilling his eyes into the back of my head. He wasn't angry or annoyed at me, he was just disappointed, which might have been even worse.

But if I said it out loud, then I could never convince myself that it wasn't real ever again, I thought.

"I'll see you at home." Grandpa grumbled before I heard the sound of papers rustling on his desk, indicating that he had gone back to his work. I only sighed before exiting the office.

When the receptionist asked me if I was okay as I was heading towards the elevator, I just told her that there was something in my eyes.

Coconut Creek, Florida

Paul rubbed his eyes as he stepped out of the shower, creasing his eyebrows when he found that his towel wasn't in the spot where he left it when he blindly reached for it.

"Looking for this?"

Paul took his hand off of his eyes to see Ronda sitting on the vanity, his towel in her hands and a smile plastered on her face.

"I didn't even hear you come in." Paul sighed, taking the towel and wrapping it around his waist.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't have been able to hear me come in either. Nice music, by the way, you never mentioned that you were a fan of Bon Jovi." Ronda said, a smug grin coming to her face. Her moment of amusement was cut short when Paul wrapped his arms around Ronda's legs and pulled her closer to his waist. Ronda eagerly pressed her lips against Paul's and he more than happily reciprocated.

"How was New York?" Paul muttered on Ronda's lips.

"It was fine." Ronda replied before pulling away. She subconsciously wrapped her arms around Paul's shoulders, stopping when Paul suddenly grimaced. Ronda gently turned him around and saw a large purple bruise adorning Paul's left shoulder blade.

"I worked on my defence this morning and I landed on my shoulder when I was bracing some takedowns." He explained.

Ronda lowly sighed, "This kind of thing can't happen anymore. There's only two months until the fight; you absolutely cannot get injured right now." She uttered, tracing her fingers over the bruise softly. Paul only nodded in response; Ronda rolled her eyes before wrapping her arms around his chest.

"So, are you going to call Ari?" Ronda asked meekly.

"Does it make me a bad person if I say I'm not sure?"

"… No. She's not sure either, and she's not a bad person, she's just a kid who doesn't know who she is, and you're just a guy who doesn't know where he stands."

"Alright."

There was a moment of silence between the two after Ronda put her head on Paul's shoulder.

"I told Vince that we we're together." She murmured.

"You fucking what?!" Paul was out of Ronda's arms within a second and spun back to look at her. There was an anger in his eyes that wasn't there before.

"Would you relax? I'm kidding, it's called lightening the mood, ever heard of it?" Ronda argued.

"How the fuck is that shit funny to you?!"

"Why does it matter?! You don't even work for them anymore!"

"Yeah, but you do!"

"Am I missing something here? Because I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Just keep your fucking mouth shut! None of those people need to hear about us!"

"Why are you being such a piece of shit for no reason?!"

There was a moment of silence between the couple, both realising simultaneously that perhaps they had taken it too far in only a matter of seconds. Ronda got off the vanity before exiting the bathroom, pushing past Paul, and slamming the door behind her. Paul turned and slammed both of his fists down onto the counter before grabbing the first thing he could find and throwing it at the ground. Unfortunately, that item happened to be a glass vase, rather, used to be a glass vase, since it shattered into dozens of pieces when it hit the floor.

Ronda stopped in the hallway when she heard the loud smash. She decided to turn around and walk back into the bathroom, knowing that Paul most definitely needed her help cleaning up whatever he had done.

It's okay. Today's just a bad day, it's not like it's anything you haven't seen before, Ronda thought.

A/N: Hey everyone, took a two week break because it's assessment time at school and I needed the extra time. Wow, this chapter is a bit of a filler, but wow, the end was intense af to write. Is the 'secret' getting a lot clearer now? Who's the mystery man with Stephanie? OMG, this is so exciting! Follow, favourite and review.