Haaaay...Finally I updated!

I got to read some reviews, and to that someone who asked, there'll be more of Cena and Torrie together in the next few chapters. So better watch out!

Here's Chapter 9. Enjoy!

"Touchdown!"

The whistle broke out, joining with all the noises and cheers in the RRC football stadium. The Lions have yet won another game against the Clearwater Muskrats this Friday afternoon, a week after our victory against them. The brawlers were laughing and jumping, happy with yet another win.

I applauded, trying to block the thoughts already surging in my head. Kurt Angle, believe or not, was the new GM of the Eagles for the rest of the semester. Going back to Monday's lunchtime in the school cafeteria, Lumpy just announced his very first project; The Great American Award, something he had won for three years straight for his...erm, "excellence in sports and character." Polls have started this week and it will be announced later in the SC auditorium, then the winner will be announced in two weeks on Spring Night—a joint SC and RRC party that will take place in the fancy hotel, The Halsey Manor Lodge. The trophy was actually presented on that very same day, complete with red, white, blue stripes with a polished gold color and our school emblem; a bald eagle in a flying pose on top. It was something someone would likely kill to possess.

But Kurt Angle? As our General Manager? Would that mean I will be working under him? Vinnie Mac had to be halfway crocked.

Then my lunacy took over me as usual. I didn't know what came over me but by the time class was over, I turned down Eddie and Rey's offers to put caramel Jell-O in the draftees' lockers, went to RRC on foot, and then watched the game of the RRC Lions. Now, after all this, lunacy is considered a possibility.

I stood up and followed the other people lining up to the stairs on the "away" bleachers, then walked to the stadium's hallways where the locker rooms are. I checked my watch to see if there was another bus ride I can catch up into. I hung my head down when I noticed few RRC students passing by. I would just be glad to get noticed.

But it just so happens that I bumped into someone, hard in the shoulders. Pain sharply coursed through me as I ran my hand through my shoulders. I would like to add I was near the Lions' locker room that time, so anything can happen.

"Ow! Son of a bitch..." a growly voice said.

My hand suddenly felt frozen to my shoulders. The voice seemed familiar. Then I looked up and knew it was true. It was Hunter Helmsley, along with his little jerks, Batista, Flair, and Orton.

I swallowed hard. Evolution.

"Well...look what we have here," Hunter said in an acid tone of voice. "It's John Sweeney, Springville's little quarterback."

I rolled my eyes. "It's Cena."

Hunter grinned crookedly. "It's the same thing when you're coming from the SC Chickens."

I saw Dave Batista snicker. Flair let out another "WOOOH!" Glaring at each one of them, I tapped my foot impatiently as they blocked my way.

"Really, you guys. This is just immature," I said as I took a step forward. "I need to get out of here. I have an appointment..."

But Hunter was a really stubborn ass, intervening me with a hand on my chest. I could imagine him piercing it right through me. That had to hurt.

"Not so fast, junior," he said. "You're not getting out of here until we find out what you want."

I shrugged. "I just came here to watch the game."

Hunter looked like he didn't buy the story. "No? You're Angle's stooge, aren't you? You came here to spy on us."

Okay...that statement pricked me right in the ears. I shifted my weight unconsciously on one foot, and I harshly removed Hunter's sticky fingers from my chest. Hunter was slightly confused.

"No, I am not Lumpy's stooge," I jeered. "I won't even have the right mind to spy on you! I'm not your one of your bitches, Helmsley! You ought to know that!"

I heard my own voice rise with contradiction from every word I said, and then I saw Hunter's face shook with anger. Like I said, what is wrong with saying something that is true? Bedding whores, not really caring about their feelings at all because all he ever desired was gold. I know I myself am rotten to the bone, but what he does takes the word "rotten" to a whole new level.

"You take that back," he drawled. "When you're talking to The Game, you ought to get to the point just like everybody else in these here parts of Red River."

I laughed sarcastically. "Point?! What point? Because the only point I see here is the one on your forehead, pencil neck."

Hunter grabbed me by the bottom of my neck, almost carrying me up. "Who told you to talk like that, you punk ass bitch?! You really want some?!"

I spoke before I tried to pry his hands off my neck. "Bring it on, wrinkles!"

"Hunter, that's enough."

The deep, unbiased voice interrupted Hunter from punching me right in the face. I looked at the guy from behind Hunter and realized this was the only time he spoke.

It was Randy Orton.

"Shut up, Randy," said Hunter, not letting go of me. "This kid is my business."

"Yeah, your business is to mope around because you lost from our team. All thanks to me." I muttered.

Randy approached Hunter, clad in a red letterman jacket, jeans, and a pair of grey Nike Shox. He was tall, about six foot four, his tan skin contrasting with the light blues of his eyes and his freshly washed spiky dark brown hair. He was no doubt, one of the best looking guys in RRC. Probably the whole neighborhood.

"Just put him down," Randy regarded him calmly. He laid a condescending hand on Hunter's shoulder, a slip of his tattoo peeking out from his sleeve. "He's really not worth beating down."

Batista and Flair gave each other strange looks. I saw Hunter's eyes bore down to Randy's, and then he finally put me down. I rubbed my neck, imagining the bruise. Hunter faced Randy and tapped the taller guy in the back.

"Take care of Sweeney for us, will you Randy?" Hunter ordered. "We have hot dates waiting for us at the Danger Zone."

Randy nodded. "No problem. I'll catch up to you guys later."

Hunter walked to the exit, Batista and Flair following him in his heels. I was left face to face with the youngest member of Evolution, towering above me in his full height. Randy smirked, his sharp features joining with his smitten expression.

"Okay Sweeney," Randy began. "Ready for an all-time beating?"

I scowled at him. "It's Cena, you moron."

We glared at each other through the seriousness of our expressions. Then, a few seconds later, we threw our heads back and laughed.

"That was a good one," he said. "Man, you really suck."

I pushed him playfully. "Same goes to you, Orton."

We both walked off from the football stadium then to the RRC parking lot. Randy stood and leaned from a light post and looked around while I stood next to him. I looked behind me and stared at the Red River College Building. Unlike our school's light marble, dark sloping roof complete with turf and different kinds of flowers, Red River ranged in brown bricks and flat/black clapboard rooftop with lush green trees and wild grass. Two different buildings, same owners. Yeah...

"Who are you waiting for?" I asked Randy.

"My limo," Randy said casually.

I clicked my tongue. "Right. Spoiled princes like you just just wait for their flashy cars while the peasants just memorize bus schedules."

A shiny black limousine loomed into view, a few meters away from where we are standing on. Randy smirked at me again.

"We study on exclusive schools, so there won't be a peasant around here, and you're telling me you don't have a car?" he said incredulously.

I shrugged, thinking that I made myself clear.

Randy looked at me expectantly. "Want a lift?"

I raised my eyebrows. "You won't mind?"

"Of course," Randy said cockily.

I only nodded gratefully. The chauffeur hopped out from the driver's seat and opened the door. I went inside the limo while Randy ordered the chauffeur to head straight to Springville College.

The interior of the limo was really luxurious, a free cable TV hanged on the front, and a mini-refrigerator propped on one side. There even was a Danger Zone pizza box laden on a table near our seats. I sunk down to the warmth of the leather seat, barely noticing Randy sitting down next to me as the chauffeur shut the door, went back to driver's seat, and drove the limo to SC.

"Want a drink?" Randy offered, opening his refrigerator.

"Sure."

Randy peered through the refrigerator, the fog spilling on the car floor. "I only have sodas here."

I thought for a moment. "Do you have red Dr. Pepper?"

Randy extracted a shiny red can from the refrigerator and slammed it shut, then tossed the can at me like a football. "Only the best."

I smiled as I popped open the Dr. Pepper can and gulped down its contents, feeling the carbonated drink fizz from my insides. Randy, on the other hand, opened the pizza box, revealing about an 18-inch size pepperoni and cheese. Randy grabbed a slice and took a big bite out of it. I watched some TV myself, and it is another episode of South Park.

"Mmmm...nothing beats Danger Zone's pizza," Randy said through chews.

"Hey! Quit hogging it all!" I objected.

Randy suddenly pushed the whole box to me. "Who's the real hog on both of us, eh John?"

I threw an empty Dr. Pepper can in Randy's direction, but he ducked too quickly.

"He shoots, he scores!" I exclaimed.

"Damn man. You are dangerous." Randy grumbled.

"You started it, genius." I said, grabbing a slice for myself and started nibbling on it. Then I looked back at the TV again and saw Eric Cartman accidentally killing Kenny by throwing him to the lawnmower. "I can't believe you're still into this, Randy. this is kid stuff."

"Why? We're still pretty much children ourselves," Randy returned. "Unless you want to switch to SpongeBob Squarepants..."

"Please do."

If there was any other person I could trust, it was Randy. We've known each other since sixth grade, but due to peers and encountering adolescence, we separated; Randy applying in Red River while I applied at Springville. Then again, Randy was always popular. Girls had been in love with him his whole life, while I never even got a second look. Until I lost my braces, grew taller and more muscular...God knows. I mean look at me. But our change of personalities never stopped our getting along. Maybe because we're the same. I don't know...

Like I said, both SC and RRC are good in spreading different kinds of cheesy rumors, and if anyone important would notice me and Randy together would cause another silly issue, you know him being a member of Evolution and all that. I never even told Eddie and Rey about this at all. Yet.

Randy drank his own soda, then he licked his lips and smiled cynically. "Heard that Kurt Angle became your new GM."

I pretended to look surprised. "So RRC's a little fishbowl too. Where did you hear it from?"

"Actually, you should be asking who."

"Okay then. Who?"

Randy gave me a strange look. "Who else? Hunter!"

"Hunter?!" I said disbelievingly.

I was baffled. What does the leader of Evolution have against Lumpy? The two of them stood on their own territory, no matter how foolish it really is. How would the two of them make contact with each other?

Randy seemed to notice my confusion. "Aw, man...you didn't know?"

Now I really was confused. "Know what?"

Randy leaned over as if it was such a major secret. "Captain America was once in a love triangle with Hunter and Stephanie McMahon."

Stephanie McMahon was the principal's daughter. I met her last summer, but she was already graduated that time. She even did me a favor, stripping off the tube top of Sable, the girl who was rumored sleeping with his very own father. And whenever I see Stephanie, there was no sign of a boyfriend.

"Wait a minute. What do you mean a love triangle?" I said incredulously. "Stephanie was Hunter's girlfriend? When the hell did that happen?"

"Actually, it kind of happened three years ago," Randy answered. "Hunter was still in SC that time. He and Stephanie was an item back then. Both of them were one power couple in SC. The two of them are so close; Principal McMahon already started to arrange their marriage when they both graduate."

Randy paused, and then continued. "Everything had been fine back then, until Kurt Angle came to the picture. It was like love-at-first-sight for the bulbhead, you know. Hunter eventually found out, and that was where the war began. After that it was always fighting, fighting, fighting. It lasted for two years."

I felt shocked. No one—and I mean no one—ever told me any these things before. "What happened next?"

"Apparently Stephanie saw Hunter's true colors so she dumped him. Hunter really went awol, and even more so when he found out he was transferring to RRC. He finally seemed to have gotten over it at our summer training when he picked me, Flair, Batista, and we became Evolution; the most feared group in the football scene. Paid, laid, and made, baby."

I leaned back in my seat, stunned. "What a soap opera."

Randy laughed, and then suddenly turned serious. "Yeah...some soap it was. Ric told me everything that had happened, and after all that, I was like 'whoa.' But it really did make me think. Hunter just loved her, I guess. And I know Stephanie loves him too. Things have gotten kind of, well...twisted."

I shook my head. "Just like the Meat Loaf song. Anyone would do anything for love."

"Oh! Is that the 'I Would Do Anything for Love' song?" Randy said, bursting into spontaneous singing. "Oh, I would do anything for love, but I won't—''

'Yeah. That stupid song." I interrupted him. Randy's tone deaf—you don't want to hear him sing.

Randy took off his jacket, revealing a black Rolling Stones shirt. He threw his jacket somewhere inside the limo. "So...what's Angle's first project anyway?"

I leaned back in my seat, gradually relaxing. "The Great American Award."

Randy nodded. "Oh, the usuals. When will the winner be announced?"

"On Spring Night."

"Ah...the joint party between SC and RRC," Randy breathed. "You picked a date yet?"

Please—I was beyond caring. "No."

"Well, why don't you start now?"

"Heh. I'm not like a certain someone who an already pick from the ones lining up."

Randy smirked. "I don't use my looks for nothing."

"You're such a skirt chaser."

"Come on. A thug such as yourself never had any admirers? Please."

I snorted. "They admire me, but I don't admire them."

Randy examined his tattoo on his right arm, a dreamy smile on his face. "There is actually someone in your school that I really want to ask out."

"Really?" I asked curiously. "Who?"

Randy furrowed his dark brows, his face scrunched up in deep thought. I forgot what her name was. Torrie something or other."

I slowly turned my head and fixed my dazed expression on him. "You mean Torrie Wilson, right?"

"Yup, that's the one. Man, you've got it made, going to the same school with her. It may not seem like it, but Dave's actually drooling over her too, you know."

I went silent.

Randy noticed my torn expression. "Why have you gone quiet?"

I didn't say anything. Slowly, a grin made its way to Randy's features.

"Ah, I get it. You like her, don't you?"

"No." I immediately said.

"Yes! Yes you do!" Randy insisted.

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

I scowled. "Damn it, Randy. You tricked me!"

Randy held his hands up. "Okay, I know you're not saying anything, but you know its okay for me. Why don't you try asking Torrie out? Even if I did it myself, I doubt she'll say yes, with all that 'stay on your territory' crap."

"Oh sure," I drawled sarcastically. "Like that'll ever happen! What if she says no?"

"What if she said yes?" Randy countered.

I thought about that until we were finally a block away from the SC campus. The chauffeur opened the door, and I stepped out the limo, my sneakers planted firmly on the pavement. Then I looked back at Randy.

"Thanks for the ride."

Randy smiled knowingly. "Anytime. Oh, and John?"

"What?"

"Think about what I said. What if she said yes. Got that?"

"Sure, dawg."

"Take of yourself, bro." Randy called.

The chauffeur closed the door, and the black limousine whisked away from our territory in a heartbeat. I started to walk and walk, until I finally made my way inside the school campus. I headed straight to the path leading to the school auditorium.

"John? John, is that you?"

I looked up and saw Rey running up to me. Any normal stranger would know something was up.

"There you are!" Rey said, looking relieved. "I've been looking everywhere for you, J. You have no idea."

"Well...I'm here now," I said. "What's up?"

"The nominees for the GAA have already been chosen," Rey said breathlessly.

"Who are they?"

"There's that dreadlock dude from RRC Booker Huffman, sophomore Charlie Haas, Big Show, and you."

My eyes widened. "Me? I was nominated?"

"Like you didn't expect it!" Rey joked.

"Wait, hold up. You said all the nominees' names, right? That makes the four of us. I thought there were five nominees."

Rey started to walk inside the auditorium. "That is why Kurt organized a little program. He's going to announce the 5th one."

I followed Rey's heels. "Must be you, or even Eddie."

Rey shook his head. "Oh, I doubt that he's gonna be happy if that ever happens."

Frowning, I stared him down. "What do you mean?"

"Bradshaw did a running clothesline on Eddie while we were practice playing and almost broke his neck a few hours ago."

"Bradshaw?!" I screeched. "You...you are talking about a different Bradshaw, right?"

"Nope. No matter how big this school is there is only one Bradshaw, the same guy moping over Faarooq weeks ago. The worst part was, I couldn't find Eddie anywhere after that happened."

I opened the heavy stage doors and let myself in. "This I gotta see."

Rey and I took seats near the front of the stage and found that almost everyone was here, the others bringing some snacks like they're going to watch a horror flick instead of a little program, but it seems everyone heard about the Eddie/Bradshaw situation, and they knew something must be up.

Angle finally appeared on the stage with the Great American Award on a small card table. He took a microphone and the audience finally hushed.

Hmm. This had better be good.

"Before I announce the final nominee of the GAA, I would like to say a few words to a certain someone here," Angle announced, looking angry. "Eddie Guerrero, come on out!"

Eddie came out from the red curtains draping to the floor, a microphone on his hand and a scowl on his face.

"I don't know why Bradshaw—or even you hate me so much, holmes," Eddie began. "But since we hate each other so badly, why don't we settle this? Right here...right now!"

The crowd cheered, throwing their junk food in the air. The two men glared at each other for a few seconds until Angle held up his palm and backed off a few steps.

"I can't fight you, Eddie," Angle declared, obviously trying to regain control of him. "Look at me! I'm the General Manager. I didn't become something that you are."

"You?" Eddie grinned. "Please tell me."

"Read my lips: irresponsible. An irresponsible waste of time."

Eddie only laughed. "Irresponsible..."

"Yes, irresponsible!" Angle repeated.

"Come on, esse," Eddie nudged. "Just tell everyone out here who the 5th guy is, because I obviously know."

Protests came from the crowd, others trying to will that Eddie was the 5th nominee, but Angle didn't look convinced.

"Hold on a second there, holmes," Angle mocked. I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to make me choose you as the 5th nominee for my award."

Eddie only shrugged, innocently ignoring the EDDIE chants coming from the audience.

"Well it's not you. I have chosen the right guy. Someone with a bright future ahead of them as you were stealing cars."

Angle faced the audience. "Presenting the 5th and final nominee for the Great American Award... John Bradshaw Layfield!"

The giant fire exit doors suddenly opened and a polished white long limousine came from the outside of the auditorium. A gold plate was on the grill, depicting the initials JBL, and yes, there were even a horns of a bull glued right to the hood, signifying him being a Texan native.

What a disaster.

Finally Bradshaw came into view, bursting through the limousine's sunroof. He was wearing a dark gray suit and a white cowboy hat, and he kept waving to the audience as if he was campaigning for US presidency. The crowd lustily booed him off, but he only flashed his toothy grin in return and continued to wave.

Great. This guy was almost crying over a loss of a friend a few weeks ago. Now he turned himself into a power hungry, power tripping bastard that has just formed himself a new fan club that no one would even dare to attend to.

I looked at Eddie. His eyes were narrowed straight ahead, but I could sense more turmoil than that. Hopefully, I know he'll be able to solve this problem by himself. Eddie didn't like anyone meddling in his affairs. I wish this would end in a proper way. A tall guy named Luther Reigns, who is possibly Angle's new stooge, gave Bradshaw a microphone of his own.

"Thank you, Mr. Angle," Bradshaw said through his mic. "And let me say to you, the Springville student body that I'm proud to accept this nomination of the Great American Award for an all-American such as myself, and I will guarantee victory to all of you, my football fans."

The crowd started the EDDIE chants once again, this time Rey and I joined in. Bradshaw only smiled.

"That's very good, people," he said. "You're also allowed to chant my name. In fact...I could hear it right now. JBL!"

"Sucks!" the crowd returned.

"JBL!"

"Sucks!"

"JBL!"

"Sucks!"

"JBL!"

"Sucks!"

Bradshaw laughed, oblivious to the crowd's hatred over him. Angle shook his head.

Rey suppressed his laughter. "Is it me, or is this guy completely stupid. Loco loco right to the head. Doesn't he even know that everyone but Angle hates him now?"

"Yeah, he's goddamned stupid, alright," I said sarcastically. "That Bradshaw doesn't even know who he's competing with."

"Really? You want to win?" Rey asked, amazed.

I paused. "Now that you mentioned it, yes. I do want to win. I think this GAA thing ain't so stupid after all."

"I doubt it, though," Rey said thoughtfully. "Even if you got the most votes after the polling, Angle will still have to choose the winner by his decision. And with all the bad blood that has been going on with you two the past couple of months..."

"Well fine. I'll make Lumpy like me?"

"Ohhhh...how?"

I thought long and hard, and came up with only one answer.

"I have no idea."

Rey laughed at my sarcasm while I snuffed and pouted and sank down in my seat. (A/N: John Cena pouting? He would look really cute, just include puppy dog eyes!) The rest of the crowd was still buzzing tart retorts on Bradshaw, while the goddamned stupid guy never left his limousine. He looked at the stage, started, then smiled widely again.

"Well, what do you know?" Bradshaw began. "It's Eddie Guerrero!"

The audience's eyes turned to Eddie. He stood there, forgotten, touching his neck, no doubt still feeling the effects of the vicious clothesline. A small, devilish smile formed on Eddie's face as Bradshaw continued to test his patience.

"I would just like to remind you about what happened a few hours ago were completely on the spot to make my well-known impact for today," Bradshaw reminded. "It's nothing personal, partner. It's just business."

Eddie made several mouth movements before he smiled in the same manner once again. "It's just business, holmes?" he echoed. "Well, horale vato, in that case...I'll make it personal!"

Eddie's voice grew to a rasp, obviously fuming before he ran down the stage to Bradshaw's limo in full speed. Bradshaw locked all his doors, so he trash talked as Eddie fumbled with his car door handles. Then, Eddie jumped for the roof like he was built on springs. Bradshaw sunk down in fright as Eddie crawled to the sunroof, his legs sticking out from the outside. Then Eddie went back down on the floor with a little surprise on his hand.

It was Bradshaw's white cowboy hat. Eddie held it up as the audience cheered raucously. Bradshaw's hat-less head went back up the sunroof, his face scrunched up in a silent fury. To add insult to injury, Eddie went back the stage and wore Bradshaw's hat, the brim covering the half of his face.

"You have a big head, esse!" he quipped. "Oh! I know what we should do! How would you like to fill this up?"

Everyone cheered, going for Eddie's plan, but Bradshaw shook his head defiantly.

"That's a 3,000 dollar hat you're holding! You stop desecrating it right now!"

Eddie grabbed the brim of Bradshaw's hat, wiping it to his ass like he just did his business. "Huh? I don't know what you're talking about."

Laughs and jeers were all pointed to Bradshaw from the audience. Rey and I were both bending up double form too much laughing.

"Man, is Eddie really zonked out bad!" Rey got out.

"Damn! I forgot how funny he really is, until now," I managed to say.

Eddie was still frolicking around the stage with Bradshaw's hat, while Bradshaw only settled to glaring at him instead of leaving his stupid limo. Maybe he's scared of Eddie, or scared of being humiliated in his new image. Angle was nowhere in sight.

"C'mon people! What's it gonna be? Anyone got a Coke or..." Eddie asked the audience, wiping the edge of the hat to the nose this time. "Let's just get this thing over with!"

And with that Eddie jumped off the stage and went to the first line of students seated up front, holding the hat upside down. A girl started to pour water inside the brim, while a group of rowdy boys dumped popcorn and fries in. Bradshaw stared in horror.

"Don't do it, Eddie!" he yelled.

But Eddie showed no signs of listening. The brim of the hat was already to the half when Eddie came to our row.

"Would you mind helping me, esse vatos?" Eddie asked, pushing the hat towards us.

I peered at the brim of the hat. Beer, Coke, and water were all mixed up, the chips and the other junk food floated adding up to how disgusting it is. I shrugged, and then Rey and I both spat into the hat. A few minutes later, the junior and senior boys started doing the same thing. There was so much spit flying around, Eddie had to hold the hat at arm's length. I think I started a trend!

"Nice!" Eddie laughed, enjoying it. "Very attractive."

After all the work was done, Eddie ran up back again to the stage, Bradshaw's hat overflowing with his concoction. Eddie put the hat at the very center of the stage, and with a swift move, he jumped down on it, literally flattening it. Everyone laughed and laughed and laughed.

Bradshaw, on the other hand, watched everything that had happened with a deadly serious look on his face.

"You're gonna pay for this, Eddie. You're gonna pay." he said bluntly.

"Well why don't you come on up here right now and let me go kick your ass American style!" Eddie countered.

And with that, Bradshaw barked to his chauffeur to exit the limo, and I even saw some of the school's faculty and professors leaving the scene, shaking their heads from Eddie's misdemeanors.

"Horale viva mi raza!" Eddie declared.

Yup, that's our Eddie, alright. A guy like him was meant to humor everyone. You don't know how this guy used to live his life. Once drowned into the bowels of addiction, Eddie now found himself in a new addiction once again, wowing both SC and RRC into a new high known as Latino Heat.

The students were the only ones left in the auditorium now. Others already started to leave with smiles on their faces, knowing Eddie have made their day. Eddie made his way to our row, shaking his shoulders Latino-style, Rey slapping him on the back while I applauded him.

"You did great, amigo," Rey said when he stopped slapping Eddie. "Bradshaw deserved it."

"One thing though," I piped in. "Bradshaw may come crying to Vinnie Mac right this minute."

Eddie shrugged. "McMahon's a sheep. If I told him what really happened, he'll figure it was worth it."

"Man, you should have been here before!" Rey exclaimed. "Where have you been anyway?"

I blinked. I simply can't tell these guys about the Randy situation; Eddie and Rey are also my friends, and I've enough problems already. And as far as keeping secrets go...

"Walking," I lied, trying to change the subject. "So Eddie...are you ready to call this a night?"

Eddie looked surprised for a moment. And then, as quick as a cat, an evil gleam flashed across his dark eyes. He smirked knowingly.

"This? You hombres have seen nothing yet."

(t.b.c)