I'm so, so sorry for the long wait…college is obviously getting into my nerves. Plus the preliminaries are on the 20th to the 22nd, so I'm going to be pretty busy.

Thanks to that someone for those translations—all the credit will be paid off when I get to finish this. Heehee. Enjoy!

…

WHAT WE REALLY FEEL

Part 5 of 5

"I don't know, Trish," Stacy said over the phone, trying not to sound whiny. "I'm really not into a shopping mood this past couple of days. Next week, maybe?"

Trish snorted. "Can't. I'll be going out with Chris."

"All week? You can't be serious!"

"Relax. We're not doing anything anyone's thinking that we might be doing, although it should be what we're doing," Trish replied with a laugh. "Besides, after all this pressure with you-know-who, I think you could really use a break."

Stacy sighed. "I guess."

"So are you still coming over?"

"After my job interview. You sure you could wait? I mean, this could take a while."

"It's fine. I'm a big girl. I can entertain myself."

After that Stacy hung up the phone, looking at her reflection nervously in front of the full-length mirror. She skipped breakfast to pick out her best clothes and barricaded herself for about an hour in her bathroom to do her hair and make-up. Now, wearing a lacy green strapless top, a frilly short black skirt, green Manolo Blahniks, matching dangling earrings, and her blonde hair done in soft curls…she knew she had done enough to make a first impression.

I shouldn't be this nervous. I know I'm going to ace it.

But with all her heart, her mind wasn't really focused on the impending job interview.

Her mind was focused on Randy itself.

It's been going on-and-off in her mind on whether she would reconcile with Randy or not. The idea had bugged her for weeks. She even tried to think if he still might be interested, but after that little fiasco on the road she hasn't heard a peep from him ever since. Lately she's been dialing and redialing his number on the phone, not taking time on what she really wants to say to him. Part of her just tells her to forget him.

So why do I feel so miserable?

Shaking off the thought, she grabbed her tote bag and went downstairs. Her parents already left to go to work late again, leaving her free to do what she liked. She wrote a note on the kitchen phone telling where she was going, found her car keys, and walked out on the sunny California morning, where happy neighbors drove bikes on the streets, a cool breeze winning over the hot salty air.

Stacy took a deep breath and smiled. It seems like nothing can go wrong.

Then a second look on her empty driveway proved her wrong.

Her 1975 red Beetle was nowhere in sight.

Oh…my…God…

After a few seconds, a shrill scream was heard through the entire subdivision.

…

"Are you positively sure that your car—that car—was carnapped?" the pudgy policeman asked for the millionth time.

"Well, it disappeared!" Stacy insisted.

The policeman gave her a disbelieving look and walked away to the direction of the station's exit. Stacy held her ground, stunned.

The moment she broke out of her shriek she immediately called Trish to turn down her shopping offer and bummed a ride from one of her neighbors straight to the police station. As soon as she got there, though, things went a lot uglier. After telling her story, all the policemen just shrugged and went back to work, some of them not giving her a time of the day and would rather save cats stuck up in trees than to listen to her. And here she was a late, sweaty mess, almost broke, and being treated unfairly by these idiots called "policemen."

Shaking her head, she followed the policeman out of the glass doors. When she found him, he was looking around, as if searching for stalkers.

"Please sir, why can't you just listen to me?" Stacy pleaded. "What are you looking for?"

"Miss, is this MTV Punk'd? Where's the camera?" he joked.

"I was carnapped! What will I even get if I got Punk'd?" she groaned, her hands covering her face.

"Stacy!" a deep masculine voice called out.

Stacy jumped at the sound of her name, and turned around to see the person standing only a few feet away, the person she hasn't seen or talked to in days, the person who invaded her thoughts so quickly to the point of actually going crazy.

"Randy…" she breathed.

He looked as gorgeous as always, clad in a brown jacket over a striped polo shirt and denim jeans, but something about the expression of his face made Stacy's pulse pound quickly. Before she could make any other faltering admission he ran up to her, his featured devoid of any annoyed or disgusted emotion.

"Trish told me what happened to your car," Randy told her. "You found out who took it yet?"

Stacy opened her mouth to answer until the policeman cut in. "Miss, we're sorry but your story's kind of hard to believe. I mean, the type of car that you're telling us was carnapped is already out of value. Without value, if I may correctly say—''

"The hell do you mean, without value!" Randy interrupted with distaste. "I owe a lot to that car! If it wasn't so freakin' old, it won't stall. And then I won't meet the girl who would change my life!"

Stacy, too surprised to react, just eyed the hard floor she was standing on.

"You know, this was the very first time I thought of someone else this much other than myself," Randy continued to argue. "Isn't that already passing over true commitment? Isn't that what everyone calls true love?"

When Stacy finally looked up, the policeman was smiling wryly at her, and next to him was Randy, who was giving her a mock serious expression.

"I'll call you," she bleated pathetically to the policeman, then she made her escape.

But Randy suddenly grabbed her arm. "Stacy, why are you always acting like that? You already made the mistake of using a born-to-be-broken vehicle that you keep forcing yourself to drive on. You don't even know if you're going to make it without that damn engine smoking!"

"I…"

"But you still take your chance," Randy's voice suddenly became gentle. "If you're scared to get hurt, I'm more scared to hurt you. Can't you see that?"

Randy's expression looked so torn and hopeless that Stacy was really afraid to look him in the eye right now, but his statement had hit her home. She didn't know what else to do but to look away from him. Anywhere but him.

After several minutes he let her go. "I guess not," he said, as if he was forcing himself to speak. "Goodbye Stacy."

When Stacy turned around to face him he was nowhere to be seen, instead he was walking briskly to his car several feet away. Then, like a bubble growing inside her, it burst out before her head even coordinated with her heart.

"Randy, wait!"

The tall, tanned brunette froze and turned to face her, a shocked look crossing his handsome features. Stacy ran to his car and to him, a suitable distance in front of each other.

"Okay, okay, you're right!" Stacy said breathlessly, exhilarated that she couldn't help smiling. "When in my car I could take the risks…why not with you, right?"

After a few seconds a semi-crooked smile broke out from Randy's face, half-laughing and half-smirking. "What are you saying?"

"Randy…" She squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm taking my chances with you."

She reopened them again excitedly to find Randy, beaming at him like an angel sent to save her, as he started to walk up to her. Stacy began walking up to him as well…until she tripped on her heels, anticipating the smell of tar right at her nose.

Instead, she was caught in the tanned tattooed arms of her beholder, her face caught in the rise and fall of his broad breathing chest, and her own hazel eyes caught in the cool clear blue pools of Randy Orton.

Because of you.

Closing those beautiful orbs, he leaned in closer and pressed his lips on hers; brushing them softly before parting them open, drowning in a kiss that let her see fireworks even with her eyes closed.

And it seemed like letting go would both take them awhile.

(END of 1st story)

…

Yes! Finally finished!

Next story: John Cena and Torrie Wilson in a different twist! I personally can't wait!

Please don't forget to review! Pretty pleases:P