PART SEVEN

MEANWHILE

Stacy Keibler was asleep in her hotel room, when a knock on the door stirred her awake. She opened her eyes,, glancing across the dark room at the door. Her gaze travelled over to the alarm clcok on the nightstand, which read 11:48. Okay, so it wasn't all that late, but it wasnt exactly early in the evening either. Who the hell could be at the door? Stacy didn't feel like getting up to answer it, so she turned back to her side and ignored it. She closed her eyes, thinking that whoever it was gave up, until she heard the knock again. Biting her lip, she carefully slid out of bed, glancing over at Test, who was snoring steadily. Stacy silently crept to the door, not wanting to wake him. She tentatively unlocked and opened the door, frowning when she saw who was there.

"John, are you crazy?!" she whispered harshly, eyeing John Cena angrily. "Andrew will *kill* me if he catches me talking to you!"

Normally, John would have scowled at the mention of Test's name... he wasn't too fond of Stacy's boyfriend. At the moment, though, Test was the farthest thing from his mind.

"I know Stace, and I'm sorry, but I *need* to talk to you. It's really important," he insisted, hushing his tone when the blonde woman placed a finger to her lips.

Chewing on her lip thoughtfully, Stacy sighed again, nodding and stepped out of of her room, not before glancing back towards Test once more to ensure he was asleep. She ran a hand through her hair, adjusting the sweatpants she had worn to bed as she stepped out the door.

"Alright, but hurry up," she told him, closing the door behind her, watching to make sure that it didn't shut all the way. The two of them took a few steps down the hall, and then John placed a hand on her shoulder, his skin as pale white as a ghost.

"I fucked up Stace... I fucked up big time," he said, shaking his head in sheer disappointment. He really hated himself at the moment. Concern grew on Stacy's face as she gazed up at him.

"What happened?" she asked curiously.

Before he could answer, Stacy felt her stomach drop. She knew almost automatically what this all had to be about. She thought back to earlier in the day when she had left John in the hotel cafeteria with Trish. Something must have happened between them.

"This has to do with Trish, doesn't it?" she questioned knowingly. John met her eyes, nodding shamefully.

"Yeah... it does."

"What did you do?" she asked, frowning slightly.

"Well," he said slowly, "it's not so much what I did, but what I *didn't* do." Stacy raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

"I kind of, um... well..."

"Spit it out John, I don't have a lot of time," she warned softly. John nodded, taking a deep breath before he again tried to elaborate.

"Okay, I went to her - Trish's - hotel room tonight. She was at the door, trying to get in, I guess. I was going to apologize to her for being a jerk in the  cafeteria earlier, but I didn't get to it. Something just... came over me, and I kissed her. At first, I thought she was gonna haul off and hit me for touching her. But she got into it eventually, and then we both kinda lost it. Next thing I knew, we were half naked in her bed, making out," he explained.

Stacy's eyes were wide with surprise at his description of what had happened. She had been hoping and wishing that the two would have a shot at getting along, but not in her wildest dreams could she envision them getting along *that* well.

"And?" she asked.

"And," he said hesitantly, looking away. "I... I choked."

"You choked?" Stacy asked curiously, not sure of what he meant.

"Yeah?... I just got... nervous, all of a sudden. I don't know why, but I just felt like I had to get out of there. So, I left," he admitted.

"You left?!" Stacy asked in disbelief, inadvertently raising her voice. "John, what's the matter with you?! You had the chance to not only tell Trish, but *show* her how you feel about her, and you blew it!" John lowered his head shamefully.

"I know! Stacy, I didn't mean for things to end like that, but it just happened. I didn't even realize what I was doing till I was halfway out the door, and then it was too late to turn back. That would've made matters worse than they already are," he insisted seriously. He would never intend to hurt *any* woman like that, even if it was a woman he didn't get along with. Shaking her head, Stacy eyed John in sheer disappointment.

"Well, you were right when you said you fucked up. What do you want me to do?" she asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest. John shrugged, drawing his gaze back up to her.

"I don't know... if you just talk to her or something, let her know I didn't mean to leave her like that. I got to get back on the road with Smackdown tomorrow, and I'm leaving first thing in the morning. But I want... I *need* her to know that I didn't mean for shit to go down that way. Please Stace, just tell her for me," he requested.

John's appearance - the pleading tone in his voice, the distraught look in his eyes - almost made Stacy smile. It was clear to her that he really was sorry for leaving Trish... and if he was really sorry for what he did, he had to truly care about her.

"Okay... I'm not guaranteeing that she'll listen, but it's worth a try. I'll talk to her in the locker room tomorrow," she said. John sent her a small smile of relief, reaching out to give her a tight hug.

"Thanks so much Stace," he said quietly, letting go of their embrace. "You're the best. Alright, I'll let you get back to bed now. Talk to you later."

Smiling, Stacy waved goodbye, watching John disappear down the hall, in the direction of his room. Her smile slowly faded as she thought of the talk she was going to have to have with Trish the next day. It was going to take a lot of work to get Trish accept John's apology, especially considering the fact that it wouldn't be coming from him personally. Stacy sighed as she headed back to her room. She really wanted things to work out for Trish and John. She knew how much John liked Trish, and she knew that - as much as she vehemently denied it - Trish could have the same feelings. It was just so difficult to be such good friends with both of them, to hear to different stories every time something happened. Shaking her head, Stacy pulled her door open, and gasped...

Standing in the doorway, glaring at her with angry eyes, was Test.

I know I've said this before, but thanks so much for all the reviews guys! You're turning this into one of my favorite stories to write, and I hope ya'll like reading it as much!