DISCLAIMER:  I do not own Stephanie McMahon, Chris Jericho, and various other WWE characters that appear in the subsequent story.  They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.  Vince, suing me would put a major downer on graduation day, not to mention the after parties, so I'll ask you politely to spare me.

Façade

CHAPTER NINE

            *7:25… it's 7:25* I noted with relief as I glanced at the reflection of the clock in the dresser mirror.  I still had 5 minutes to work on my wig; the hair on my left side was being difficult, and I was so nervous that my shaky hands were making it worse.  Sitting back on the bed, I forced myself to take a few calming breaths, reminding myself that it wasn't an official date and that I was putting too much into how I looked.  But part of me didn't care; I wanted to look fabulous, to make Jericho speechless when he came to my door. 

            Shaking my head, I decided I was crazy and returned to my place before the mirror.  With the assistance of a few pins and tape, my wig was on in seconds.  The unruly left side, seeming to understand my current frazzled state, was now behaving perfectly.  Finger-combing for a few seconds, I did a slow turn in front of the mirror, checking for any wrinkles or out-of-place hairs. 

            A knock at the door startled me; glancing at the clock I saw that it was 7:28.  "Of all the times to show up early," I muttered, not feeling 100% confident about my appearance.  However, my dinner date was here, and I had no other choice but to answer the door and face the music.

            When I opened the door and caught sight of him, it was I who found myself unable to speak.  Wearing a dark gray cashmere sweater under a black suede jacket, and pitch black leather pants, he looked amazing.  After my long appraisal, I met his amused gaze and blushed a bit at my behavior.  "Hi," I managed to squeak out.

            He nodded his greeting, then gestured towards the elevator.  "I'm flattered.  All that drooling for me?"

            I bit back a laugh.  "You should change your catchphrase to 'conceited sexy beast'," I deadpanned.  Grabbing my purse from the inside doorknob (a trick Dawn Marie taught me, for 'the woman on the go'), I shut the door and gave him a smile.  "Where are we going?"

            He shrugged, placing his hand on the small of my back and guiding me towards the elevator.  "Somewhere fit for a Princess." 

            It was then I noticed that he seemed uneasy; his posture was rigid, and his usual banter seemed forced.  Worried, I followed him into the elevator, and when the doors shut, decided to investigate.  "Did I do something wrong?" I asked quietly.

            "No."

            "So everything is ok?"

            "Sure."

            "Great."  Annoyed by his one-word answers, I crossed my arms and began to wonder if having dinner was a huge mistake.  *Obviously!*

            "What was that?" 

            Surprised, I realized that I had spoken out loud, and decided that I didn't really care.  Grabbing his hand from my back, I tugged at it, forcing him to make eye contact.  "Look, this was obviously a mistake.  I thought you wanted to talk, but I guess you have nothing else to say.  Let's just call it off, ok?"  Untangling my hand from his, I reached over and hit my floor number. 

            Jericho sighed.  "That's exactly it.  I think you have the wrong idea about tonight." 

            My heart dropped into my stomach.  Fidgeting with my dress, I felt like the biggest idiot on the planet.  "Oh," I whispered, gazing at new black and white pumps.

            "I just don't want this," here he gesticulated between us with his hand, "to always be about business."

            I blinked; did he actually say what I wanted him to say for once?  "Wait, what?"

            "I said…" he began.

            "No I know what you said," I interrupted, wanting more clarification.  "Did you think that we were going to talk business tonight over dinner?"  He nodded slowly in confirmation, and I couldn't help but smile.  "So explain to me then why I would get all dolled up in the hopes that you wouldn't even think of calling me 'Briefcase Bitch'?"

            His eyes brightened.  "So this means…"

            I had to chuckle.  "Yes, this means you are a Jackass.  And that neither of us is here to talk business tonight."

            Exhaling loudly, Jericho blessed me with the first smile of the evening.  "Well, in that case…" he trailed off, taking the liberty of wrapping his arm around my waist.  I shivered at his touch, then decided to place my hand on top of his just as the elevator doors opened.

            As we made our way towards the front of the lobby, he suddenly stopped.  Just as I turned to ask what was wrong, he used our entwined hands to slowly spin me around in front of him.  "You look…" he stopped, his brow furrowed in thought.

            "Nice?" I helpfully supplied with a grin.  Looking down, I examined the black wrap dress with white trim that I was wearing, and whistled lowly under my breath.  "Nice really isn't good enough; how about amazing?"

            With a smirk, he pulled me up against him, his face by my left ear.  My breath caught in my throat as his lips barely made contact with the side of my neck.  "Breathtaking," he finished.

            I smiled languidly, relishing in our intimate position, but all too soon he pulled back and we resumed our walk towards the door.  I took this time to try and slow my racing heart; if the night was just beginning and I was responding like this, I was bound to go into cardiac arrest by dessert.

            A comfortable silence settled over us as Jericho ushered me into a waiting taxi and we sped off into the city.  Trying not to sit back on the seat (to both ward off wrinkles and disgusting taxicab germs), I began to people watch out through the window.  Within a few minutes, however, I began missing physical contact with my date.  With a deep breath, I boldly placed my right hand on his leg, careful to keep my attention focused on the people outside.  The muscles of his leg immediately tensed, but after a few small strokes of my fingers, relaxed somewhat.  I was rewarded by his arm pulling me back against him, his hand resuming its position on my hip.  Closing my eyes, I concentrated on his breathing, his heartbeat, and every inch of his body that I could feel, wanting to remember this perfect moment.

            All too soon, though, the taxi abruptly stopped, and Jericho assisted me out of the taxi and into a swanky looking restaurant in the heart of Baton Rouge.  Upon our arrival, the maitre-d scurried out from behind her podium and whisked us to a secluded corner of the restaurant.  Jericho was the perfect gentleman, rushing over to pull out my chair and seat me before the approaching waiter could interfere.  I smiled at him, taken aback by all this date-like behavior and just a tad curious as to why I had never known him to be so well-mannered.

            Taking his seat across the table, I watched as the waiter poured us some champagne, then retreated to the front.  Lifting my glass, I decided to try and break the silence.  "What shall we toast to?"

            Jericho's brow furrowed as he lifted his glass.  "How about… to a completely business-free evening?" he finally suggested.

            *Perfect.*  "To a completely business-free evening," I seconded, tapping my glass against his before taking a large sip.  The champagne was dry, bubbly, and discernibly expensive; if Jericho was trying to impress me, he was succeeding.  "Mmm," I voiced, placing my glass back on the table. 

            "You like?"  He chewed on his lip a bit, a nervous gesture.

            "I like everything so far," I confirmed.  "So what's for dinner?"

            He put a finger to his lips.  "It's a secret, but the maitre-d promised that we wouldn't be disappointed."

            "I see."  Faking a smile, I began to inwardly worry about the main course.  *Please don't let it be raw or spicy or anything disgusting,* I mentally prayed, wishing that I wasn't such a picky eater.  If only it could be guaranteed that my dinner would be an identifiable part of a cow. 

            "So…"  I turned to Jericho, waiting for him to finish his sentence, but he never did. 

            "So…." I repeated, trying to hide a smile.

            "When do you fly to Raleigh?"

            "Actually, I'm driving."  I frowned at the thought of the long trip ahead of me.

            Jericho seemed surprised.  "That's a 15 hour trip, at least.  I didn't know you were a road warrior."             

            "I'm not.  I don't want my arm to puff up again on another stupid plane ride."  I shrugged, taking another sip of wine.  "Driving all day seems like the lesser of two evils."

            "You going by yourself?" 

            I nodded slowly.  "Yeah, I doubt I could find anyone crazy enough to pass up first class airfares for a boring car ride."

            "I would."  Taking a long drink from his glass, he winked at me over the rim.

            My mouth dropped open in surprise.  "You just had to prove me wrong," I commented before I could catch myself.

            "Maybe I am crazy.  I just don't like the thought of you driving nearly a thousand miles by yourself." 

            "Awww," I cooed, enjoying the crimson hue that spread across his face.  "I appreciate the offer, but I'd rather go alone."

            He cocked an eyebrow.  "Why?"

            "A long drive like that will give me time to think.  Brainstorm ideas for Raw and Smackdown."  *And daydream about how freaking hot you look,* I mentally added.  "Maybe worry about what you'll say on Thursday."

            "This conversation has shifted business," Jericho noted with a sigh, leaning over to refill both of our wine glasses.  "And trust me, the interview Thursday will be all business."

            Somehow I wasn't quite ready to drop it.  "Right.  Of course.  Let me supply the folder this time."

            He groaned.  "What do you want, a script?  I don't usually plan this stuff out."  Leaning back in his chair, he scratched at his chin thoughtfully.  "Maybe I'll tell the crowd my new nickname for you.  Make them love me."  He shot me a grin.  "After all, who wouldn't love the King of the World over a Briefcase Bitch?"

            I rolled my eyes.  "Very mature.  Perhaps you'll be voted most popular by the yearbook club."

            "I was actually shooting for best kisser," he leered, his grin widening when I blushed.  "Looks like I got your vote."

            I searched my brain for a comeback, but could find nothing.  Thankfully, the God of Serendipity was on my side that night; right when I opened my mouth to fumble a response, a delectable shrimp appetizer appeared.  I restrained myself from grabbing a fistful in my mouth, instead delicately popping one bacon-wrapped shrimp in my mouth.  "Mmmmmmmm…" I groaned with pleasure, immediately reaching for another, and then another.

            "Who'd thought that the Billion Dollar Princess eats like Miss Piggy!"

            With the shrimp halfway to my open mouth, I met his amused look with surprise.  *Way to act like a pig in front of your date!* I mentally admonished myself.  Horrified, I looked away, before placing the shrimp on my plate.  "Yeah, I've always been a barnyard animal.  Hunter called me a cow, and now I'm a pig," I joked halfheartedly.

            "Stephy…"  

            "Seriously though, it doesn't stop at the farm.  Look at these batwings I call arms!"  My ego was crumbling, and yet I couldn't stop berating myself.

            "Steph!"

            I refused to meet his eyes.  "I mean, look at me!  You should start calling these fun-bags fat bags!"  I was close to tears; I had never felt worse about how I looked.  "That'll really get the crowd going!"  I crossed my arms in front of myself, hiding the gigantic stomach that I had grown post-chemo. 

            "Stephanie, I…"

            I cut him off by standing up and looking around.  Spying a hallway to the left of the main dining room, I supposed it to be the bathroom and decided that crying in there would be more favorable than another public breakdown.  "Excuse me," I mumbled as I took off towards a sanctuary of porcelain tiles and sinks. 

            Once safely inside the restroom, I made sure to lock the main door before hopping up on the counter and allowing the tears to fall.  Placing my purse beside me, I hid my face in my hands, wondering why on earth I still had to suffer even when in remission. 

            After awhile, I grew tired of crying, and jumped off the counter to gaze at my reflection in the mirror.  When this date started, I spun around before Jericho and felt gorgeous.  Now, my gaze hovered around my stomach and hips, no longer camouflaged by the cut of the dress.  Feeling fat and ugly, I did the only thing I could think of:  call somebody to reassure me that I was indeed a desirable female.  Digging through my purse, I found my cell phone and immediately called Kurt.

            "'Lo?  Steph?" Kurt answered after a few rings.

            "Kurt," I greeted, choking back some tears.

            "Stephanie?  What's wrong baby?"  Before I could answer, I heard him growl.  "Wait, aren't you on that date with Jericho?"

            "Yeah."

            "I'll kill him."

            I had to laugh.  "Kurt, you don't even know why I was crying.  It could be stupid."

            "I already know what, or should I say who, is stupid.  And I still want to kill him."

            I sighed.  "Kurt… do you think I am fat?"

            It was his turn to sigh.  "Steph, baby, we've been over this.  I think you look gorgeous, you've got more curves than my gold medals…" he suddenly stopped talking, and I heard a sharp intake of breath.  "You're telling me that he called you fat."

            "Miss Piggy," I clarified, preparing myself for his explosion.

            Kurt rarely disappointed me with his reactions.  "That king of crap!" he shouted.  "Forget the easy death; first I'll shave his head, then I'll make him tap, and then I'll wring his neck!"

            I smiled at the imagery.  "Thanks Kurt, but what I really need is a way out of this bathroom without having to see him again."

            "Why not?"  Kurt sounded surprised.  "Steph, don't let him win!"

            "But Kurt…"

            "Don't 'But Kurt' me," he interrupted.  "Make him take responsibility for his words.  Get out there, throw something in his face, and tell him off like the Stephanie McMahon that I know."

            Although I wasn't sure about the telling off part, however, I did like the idea of drenching him in that expensive champagne.  "Ok Kurt, you talked me into it."

            "Good.  Call me afterwards."

            "I will.  Thanks Kurt."

            "No problem.  And Stephanie, you know I think you are the most gorgeous girl in the continental 48 states."

            I laughed.  "I love you Kurt.  Bye."  Hanging up, I retried some toilet paper and removed the mascara streaks on my face.  Once satisfied with my appearance, I grabbed my purse and, forcing my chin up high, I walked out of the restroom and back towards my date.

            Three-quarters of the way back to the table, I began to lose my nerve.  However, just as I thought about bolting back to the bathroom, I realized two important things:

            1.  My date was missing.

            2.  So were the shrimp.

            Stopping in my tracks, I looked around curiously, unable to spot my blond companion.  "He couldn't have just left," I thought out loud, walking to the maitre-d station in order to get some questions answered.            

            In the front area of the restaurant, however, I spied two figures standing beside a tall fichus plant near the coat check.  Coming closer, I saw the pulled back blond hair of Chris Jericho; however, his companion was partially blocked by Jericho's body.  Completely intrigued, I sidled closer, using the wall and the fichus as cover. 

            "… Get outta here!  The last thing I need is for Stephy to see you," I heard Jericho whisper loudly.  "I've already screwed up once tonight!"

            "What the hell did you do Jericho?" a familiar voice demanded loudly.  Gasping, I looked though the leaves of the plant and saw none other than my dear brother grabbing a fistful of Jericho's sweater.  Clapping a hand over my mouth, I forced myself to remain quiet so that my cover wouldn't be blown.

            Jericho held his hands up in defense.  "Take it easy, killer.  I said something stupid and she freaked."

            "That's enough reason for me to beat your ass."  Shane stared him down for a few minutes, and I seriously thought he was going to throw a punch.  To my relief, he released his grip on Jericho's sweater.  "I know I came here to ask about Monday night, but I need to make one thing clear Jericho."

            "What's that, Boy Wonder?" Jericho said, feigning interest as he straightened the front of his sweater.

            "You better not be messing with my sister.  She's still vulnerable from this Hunter breakup, and everybody knows about the crush she has on you…"

            *SHANE!!!! * I mentally screeched, nearly biting down on my hand at his revelation. 

            Jericho interrupted my brother with a laugh.  "You don't know your sister at all, Shane-O.  And I would never stoop to act like that mongoloid ex of hers."  Checking his watch, he sighed.  "If Steph hasn't found an emergency exit, she's probably back at the table by now.  I'd better go."

            Realizing that this was my cue to stop hiding, I decided on making my presence known.  Tiptoeing back a few steps, I ran a hand through my hair and marched around the plant and up to the two men. 

            "Steph!" Shane greeted with surprise.

            "Shane, how did you know I was here?" I asked with mock annoyance.  Looking at Jericho, I placed a hand over his opening mouth.  "Save it." 

            Glancing at the blond, Shane returned his attention to me.  "I called Dawn Marie and she said you'd be here for dinner with HIM."  Shane scowled. 

            I mentally groaned; I should have known that Dawn would have blown my cover.  "Dinner's over.  Is your limo still outside?"  Not waiting for an answer, I turned on my heel and started walking towards the entrance.           

            "Oh HELL no," I heard Jericho exclaim before he grabbed my arm.  Whirling around, I came face to face with angry eyes.  "You're going to run away because you misinterpreted one little comment?"

            "Misinterpreted?!" I bellowed, snatching my arm away from him.  "You called me Miss Piggy!  I don't see how that is any sort of compliment unless you are a green singing frog named Kermit!"

            Jericho rubbed his forehead wearily.  "You're blowing this out of proportion.  What I meant was…"

            "Oh I know what you meant to say," I interrupted.  "What I also find interesting is what you just said to my brother."  At his widened eyes, I pointed to the spot on the wall that I had occupied.  "I was standing right there the entire time.  You would never stoop to act like Hunter?  HA!"  Stepping forward, I got in his face and snarled.  "When you called me a pig, you did more than stoop.  You became him."  I immediately regretted that statement, and yet could not bring myself to apologize.  Part of me enjoyed watching his stunned reaction.  Part of me couldn't believe that I compared Chris Jericho to the slime I was formerly married to.

            We stood there like that for a minute or two, me staring into his eyes and waiting for him to react.  His eyes held an array of emotions; just when I thought I had figured out one, it would shift into another.  Eventually, his eyes turned sad, and he took a step back.  I felt Shane approach me from behind, his hand slipping around my waist and tugging me gently towards the door.  Calmed by my brother's action, I nodded curtly in my date's direction, and followed Shane out the door and into his waiting limo. 

            The ride was mostly silent, minus a quiet apology by Shane for ruining my date.  I wanted to assure him that things had already gone sour by the time he had shown up, but I kept silent.  Misery loves company, after all.

            Dropping me off at my hotel (apparently my brother was flying to Connecticut tonight), I dragged myself upstairs to my room.  Immediately ordering room service, I kicked off my heels, washed my wig and stood it upright in the bathtub, and put on my favorite oversized silk pajamas.  After wrapping a nice, radiator-warmed towel around my head, I decided to channel surf until my food got here.

            It was during a rerun of Friends that I realized something:  how badly I messed up this date.  I was out to dinner with someone I thought about at least 20 times a day, and I freak out at a stupid little comment.  I ended up playing my old childish games, crying and blowing things out of proportion, until I got my way and made the other person suffer.  Burying my head in my pillow, I wished to God that I could turn back time; perhaps then I'd still be on my dream date.  My fingers itched to call his cell, and yet I chickened out as I reached for the phone.

            A knock at the door interrupted my misery.  Going to retrieve my food, I tipped the bellboy heavily before slamming the door and shuffling back to bed.  Placing the plate on my chest, I picked at my sorry imposter of a hamburger, and wished I was eating delicate bacon-wrapped shrimp again.  Or perhaps feeding them into the open mouth of Chris Jericho. 

            Lost in my fantasy world, I faintly heard someone knocking at the door again.  Going to answer it, I wondered if the bell-boy had come back to thank me for the tip.  Rather, I found myself looking into the eyes of my date.  I stared at him in shock for a moment, before stepping aside and allowing him entry.

            Once inside, Jericho faced me, his hands crammed into his pockets.  "I screwed up," he spoke softly, his eyes focused on the carpet.

            I shook my head despite the fact that he couldn't see it.  "I overreacted," I countered, tipping his chin up to look at me. 

            His eyes still had that sadness from the restaurant lobby.  "No, it was a stupid thing to say.  It was my fault you left."

            "It wasn't the best thing," I agreed.  Sitting down on the bed, I patted the towel on my head gently; it still felt pretty secure.  "I shouldn't have run off with Shane like that."

            "I didn't know Shane was going to be there."  He sat down next to me on the bed, placing one hand on top of mine, causing me to blush from the contact.  "I swear."

            I gave him a small smile.  "I know.  I heard, remember?"

            One side of Jericho's mouth turned upwards.  "Well, Harriet the Spy, I want you to hear this.  From the moment you first opened your door to me, to even now, in your pajamas and a towel on your head, I haven't been able to catch my breath.  That wasn't just some line I fed you in the lobby."

            Suddenly it was I who could not breathe.  "Oh," I exhaled, my face nearly splitting in half from the smile I could not repress.  Leaning forward, I placed a gentle kiss on his lower lip, the only way I could think of to thank him properly.

            His eyes fluttered open, the sadness gone.  "If this is how a bad date ends with you, I wish I hadn't screwed up at the restaurant."

            *This self-blame needs to end!*  I shushed him quietly, pretending to look around.  "Did you hear that?" I whispered.

            "Huh?  What?"

            For a few minutes we both sat still, him straining to hear something, while I used all my will-power not to smile.  "It was me forgiving you," I finally revealed with a giggle. 

            He shook his head.  "You can't do that yet."

            *And here I thought I was doing him a favor.*  "Why not?"

            "Because I haven't done this yet."  I gasped as his free hand snaked behind the neck, pulling me in for a brutal lip lock.  So lost in the sensation was I that I could barely reach up with my right hand to hold the towel on my head.  With the knowledge that it wouldn't fall off, I threaded my other hand in his ponytail and allowed myself to be swept away by the kiss.

            Just as I got hot and bothered, reality struck in the form of his cell phone.  Groaning, he pulled back, and offering me an apologetic smile, fished the phone out of his coat pocket.  "Hello… oh hey Trish, what's up?"  He stood up, walking towards the balcony.

            Rolling my eyes at him, I went to sit up against the headboard, retrieving my forgotten hamburger and taking a large bite.  "Stupid slut," I mumbled as I chewed.  I knew it was illogical to be jealous; after all, who room was Jericho in now, and whom was he just making out with?  Throwing him a glare (which he missed, due to the fact that he was looking out the window), I returned my attention to the television and continued to devour the burger. 

            Nineteen minutes later, I heard him wish her a good night and hang up the phone.  During the course of the conversation, he had removed his jacket, his shoes, and stretched out in the chair before the window.  While I was not watching him talk, I finished off my hamburger, flipped through all 12 channels of television several times, and become irrationally irritated with his behavior.  Now, as I watched him approach from the corner of my eye, I decided he was going to feel my wrath for talking to that trash in my presence.  Just as he moved to sit beside me, I pinned him down with a dirty look, effective freezing him in his tracks.  "Oh, are you still here?" I asked snidely.

            He had the decency to look sheepish.  "Now before you get all angry, the only reason I talked to her at all is because if I don't, she'll keep calling me back like a psycho."

            I shrugged, turning my attention back to the TV.  "Do you think I care?  Talk to your little hussy as long as necessary.  See if I care."

            The bed shifted as he sunk down beside me.  "I won't deny that Trish is a slut.  In fact, she's demonstrated that to me time and time again…."

            "Do I really need to hear this?" I whined, my stomach twisting at the thought of Trish in his arms, night after night.

            "I think you do."  Snatching the remote from my hand, he turned off the TV.  Crossing my arms, I wearily met his blue gaze.  "Trish and I have been sleeping together, on and off, since about the time I switched to Raw…."

            "Is that why you left?" I interrupted, rolling my eyes.  "It figures you would be chasing some skirt."

            Placing his hand on my mouth, he groaned loudly.  "Dear God, would you please shut up and let me finish?"  Of course, I tried to mumble around his fingers, but he pressed harder, effectively shutting me up.  "As I was saying, Trish and I have been sleeping together for awhile, but it was always just sex to me."

            Even though I hated Trish Stratus with a vengeance, I hated the idea of him leading a girl on worse.  *PIG!* I mentally shouted, glowering at him. 

            He took no notice to my dirty look.  "The thing is, she's never challenged me.  Outside of the bedroom, she's rather boring.  You, on the other hand," he sent me a half-grin.  "You've always been a pain in my ass.  You were screechy, demanding, double-crossing, deceitful, and downright charming."

            I blinked; that wasn't the adjective I was expecting him to follow with.  "Plus, you're gorgeous.  So the night that you returned to consult on Raw, and I saw you in the hallway, I knew that any time spent with you would never be boring." 

            As mad as I was about the phone call from Trish, I had to smile at his cuteness.  And I couldn't help but believe every word.  Removing his hand from my mouth (which he surprisingly allowed me to do), I pretended to mull over his words.  "So I'm just this challenge to you," I purposely misinterpreted.  "That's flattering and all, Jericho, but what's the prize at the end?  Having sex with me?  Getting me kicked off of Raw?  Blabbing my secrets to the world?"

            He sidled closer to me and I abruptly shut up.  "While I wouldn't mind the sex part, that's not what I am interested in."

            "Oh no?" I challenged, raising an eyebrow and purposely moving closer to him.  With all the kissing that went on between us, I had a hard time believing there was no physical desire on his end.  "So what do you want, Jericho?" I breathed, placing a hand on his thigh. 

            "It can wait," he decided resolutely before sweeping me up in his arms.  I gave him a victorious smile as he descended for a sweet but short kiss.  "So I was thinking we could sleep together tonight."

            I couldn't help but blush furiously.  "Could you be any less romantic?"  Inwardly, my insides were doing jumping jacks. 

            He laughed, arranging us on the bed so that we laid side by side, his one arm wrapped around me.  "I was talking about actual sleep, Princess.  It is almost midnight, and if we're driving to Raleigh tomorrow I need my beauty sleep."

            I had to sigh with relief.  As much as I wanted us to have sex, there was still the issue of my hair.  I wasn't quite sure if I was ready to reveal that last secret to him.  "I don't recall inviting you to drive with me tomorrow," I commented, reaching to my left to switch off the bedside lamp, then cuddling closer to his chest as the darkness cloaked us.

            "I invited myself."  His voice floated down to me as his arm tightened around my middle.  "I hate flying anyways.  Too many stewardesses asking me to initiate them in the Mile-High Club."

            Despite my best efforts, I laughed quietly.  "Goodnight, Jackass."

            His lips brushed against my forehead.  "Goodnight, Steph." 

END CHAPTER NINE

Author's Notes:  I know I promised this update many weeks ago, and I apologize for the lateness of it.  I also apologize for any glaring spelling/grammar issues; I wrote the majority of this in one night, and then recklessly decided to post :).  What can I say, these last few weeks of college have been a mixture of parties and projects.  Again, I thank you all for coming back and reading, and I hope I didn't disappoint (although even I wanted Steph and Jericho to do the nasty :)).  Please review and let me know what you think!  Thanks y'all, and take care!