Trust me…you'll absolutely love what will happen next!
And if you would love to see a more mature John Cena, read my AU fic SOLDIER. Lots of parody wrestling action, comedy, mild drama, and a wee bit of romance. :p I hate to sound like JBL, but I guarantee you guys, it's really good! Do read it, please? Thanx!
Here's part 2!
…
WITH A SMILE
Part 2 of 5
"And this is the Mann's Chinese Theater. Mann's Chinese Theater on Hollywood Boulevard in Los Angeles is one of the city's most famous movie theaters. Since it opened in 1927, it has been the location of numerous Hollywood premieres. It is best known for the handprints and footprints of well-known film stars, who have left these signatures in cement in front of the theater for more than 50 years. Now, all tourists form 2 vertical lines to the entrance, do not push each other, pictures can be taken until I give out my order, and after this we'll go straight to the Hollywood Walk of Fame so we'll still be able to catch our favorite stars' stars! Thank you!"
John surreptitiously watched Torrie from the back, leaning against the tourist's cab while she entertained them. Normally he would have done his job all be himself perfectly despite his nearly ripped throat, but he decided that maybe he should relax and watch Torrie do it herself for once, to see what she could do.
The only problem was, John really was watching her, focusing more on her face than her words.
Even from the first time they met, Torrie had always been charming. Even when she was around other people she could wrap anyone around her finger. Maybe it was her smile, or her happy nature, or those astonishing green eyes. Whatever it was, Torrie was obviously working her magic again—this time on her innocent fellow tourists that are much like herself.
With that same charm, he somehow couldn't stand holding a grudge against her for reasons he never knew why. Even being a French girl made an air of mystery surround her, making him curious. Clad only in a fitted shirt, loose denim jeans and sneakers with her light locks tumbling freely on her back, but even in the simple way she spoke, held herself, or the way she batted her eyes and tuck a curly blonde strand behind one ear somehow held her audience in awe, and it's not only because of the sceneries extremely new to them.
And as much as he hated to admit it, John was already held captive by her himself. And it's been going on secretly for weeks now.
How come I never noticed her like this before? She's just so…so…cute.
Noticing? I thought you were just looking at her.
Well, so what? It's not as if there aren't lots of girls around here prettier than she is.
Liar. You already seen them all but she's at the top of your list. You won't find anyone like her.
Sure I can. I don't need a ditz like her.
She ain't a ditz, stupid. She's just innocent. And you take the fun of torturing her because you're obviously crazy for her.
I am not crazy for her!
John mentally shook his head. So many voices debating with him inside his head, proving a losing battle. Shielding his eyes with his hat, that didn't stop a small smile flitting across his face.
But it instantly disappeared as soon as Torrie finished her speech and turned to him, giving him the how-did-I-do look.
John reciprocated with a scowl and mouthed, "Continue jawing them out!" at her. He tapped his watch.
"T-there's still so much to see!" Torrie told her tourists, getting his message. "B-but still…the main tourist attraction are still the Californians—famous for their warm hospitality."
Then she gave John a half-stoned grin. "I hope you've experienced it the way I have. Thank you very much!" she said through her teeth. And with a last glare at him she stormed off inside the Chinese theater, the tourists obliviously following her heels inside.
Instead of following, though, John leaned back again on the cab, free to smile widely as he can.
…
Later that night, John was driving Torrie on the way back home until she started forcing him to treat her to dinner outside after a hard day's work. Caving in, he grudgingly parked his Beetle in front of a 24-hour diner while Torrie didn't waste any time waiting for him and already ran inside.
When John went in, he noticed there were only few people eating there since it was already late, but the food seemed huge. He found Torrie on a two-person booth near the windows, scanning the menus.
He sat across her. "Torrie, I already told you there's food in the house. This place seems awfully deluxe."
Torrie put her menu down. "You should treat me, for once. I did all the work. You didn't do anything the whole day."
John rested his arms on the table. "Maybe I didn't do anything the whole day, but keep in mind that I was the one supervising you."
"You are just so unbelievable, John. Do you even have a heart?" Torrie scoffed, going back to her menu.
John just leaned on his seat, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. Torrie looked up from the menu and gasped.
"Oh my God! He smiled!" She stood up from her chair and waved her hands in the air. "Praise the Lord! He smiled!"
John abruptly pushed her back down on her chair. "Will you stop that and just order!" he hissed, motioning from the curious onlookers.
A cheery 30-something waitress came just in time. "What would you like to have, handsome?"
John's breathing went back to normal paces before he shrugged. "Just coffee."
"How 'bout you, sweetie?"
Torrie bit her lip. "Let's see… a jumbo cheeseburger, two chili dogs, large onion rings and fries, a large chocolate shake, and an apple pie."
The waitress made several checks on her pad. "Okay, would you like a slice of our cheesecake with that? It's really good."
Torrie nodded. "Yes please!"
The woman finally walked off scratching half the stuff on her pad. When she was finally out of earshot, John let out a little snicker. "Leave it to the waitress to sell you a cheesecake, too. What a pig."
But Torrie ignored the insult and saw the unmistakable smile on John's face again. "Another smile! Hallelu—''
"I told you—stop it," John reminded her with a much calmer voice, grabbing her shoulders before she could make a futile effort to stand up again.
But Torrie's grin was contagious. "You smiled, you smiled," she chirped in a sing-song.
"All right, I did."
Torrie chuckled a bit, then her face turned a little serious. "John, I want to ask you about something…"
"What is it?"
"I want to ask for a vacation," she declared. "I want to travel all over Hollywood all the way up to Malibu, see the tall palm trees, like in those pretty postcards. I want to be like our tourists."
John frowned. "You already are a tourist."
"That's the whole point!" Torrie insisted. "I just want someone to drive me around and show me around places I haven't seen before, so I could just be there and feel it before I'd go home."
John got the point. "Are you…you're saying you want me to be your guide?"
"Will you, John? I mean, if it's alright with you. Please?"
John thought for a moment, studied Torrie expectant expression, and then came up with an answer. "I will think about it. Maybe if you would stop pissing me off and stop screwing up more often."
Torrie's expression quickly turned cloudy. "Vous pourriez avoir été mignon si vous n'étiez pas aussi grincheux. (You could have been cute if you weren't so grumpy.)"
"Are you cussing me or something?" John demanded.
"No, sir," Torrie answered with a fake grin. Then she turned away with a rather cute pout and rested her chin in one hand, muttering French nothings that no one would even understand.
Unknown to her, John was observing her with an amused smile nearly reaching his ears, trying to keep from laughing out loud, and of course, giving in to his feelings brewing inside of him.
Damn. I'm definitely whipped.
…
Can you keep up…baby boy lemme lose my breath…
Torrie continued to hum along with the music of her pink iPod clipped onto her jeans. Determined to make up to John, she went by his house early in the morning, went by the living room and saw Dawn Marie ironing his clothes, mostly composing of loose shirts and three-quartered jeans. Dawn actually didn't mind finishing it all, but Torrie insisted on doing it herself. If being his slave or humiliating herself to pay off her debt would make John give her the vacation she deserved, she would happily do it in a minute.
I'll show that big lug that I'm definitely not a failure. I'll prove it.
After a few more minutes the big lug finally went down from long hours of sleep. John sleepily rubbed his eyes, yawned, and sluggishly went down the stairs. When he reached the bottom stair he stretched his bare torso, slid his feet into his Reeboks, and his rather blurred vision saw a blonde girl with her back turned to him, looking like she was dancing while ironing clothes, judging by her hip shaking.
Then his blue eyes suddenly popped open. Torrie? Ironing? What the hell!
As if hearing her presence called, Torrie suddenly turned around and faced him. Her grin suddenly disappeared as she caught sight of John shirtless for the very first time, his tall, muscular frame and six-packs rippling in the morning sun.
Torrie felt her face burn and redden with shame. It was not like her to focus on another guy's body, no matter how great it looked. She already found John good-looking the first time she laid eyes on him, but she wasn't ready for the jelly feeling on her knees and the racing of her heart. Ignoring the thought, she turned around back to the board and continued to iron as if she hasn't seen him.
Seeing her reaction, John suddenly noticed the mistake he made and grabbed a shirt rolled up in his front jeans pocket. He began putting it on, walking towards Torrie.
"What are you doing in my house?" he asked.
The only sound heard was the steam of the iron blowing off. Torrie ignored him and continued to iron, more frantic this time. Then John noticed the pink iPod on her jeans as he jerked off an earphone in her ear.
"I said—what are you doing here, Torrie?" he repeated.
"Ironing! With the, uh…iron!" Torrie finally answered, holding the hot heavy metal almost to his face.
"Dawn…" John started to whine.
Dawn chuckled from the recliner while she sipped a cup of coffee. "She insisted on finishing it. I couldn't do anything."
John was about to argue when Torrie presented a neat stack of shirts and jeans. "I finished all your clothes, John. I'll iron for you 350 dollars a day. Minus in my debt!"
John's lip curled as he grabbed one of his shirts from the stack and detected wrinkles from the collars. "What do you mean 350? I bet not all of those are not all creased up! Make that 150!"
"You're such a cheater, you…you stupid!" Torrie sputtered.
John leaned across her from the ironing board and imitated Droopy's expression. "Awwww…the poor widdle French girl's gonna cry. Ahuhuhuhu…"
"Huh?"
Torrie understood nothing of John's mocks so she only puppy-dog growled at him again, John continuing to tease her.
"Alright, that's enough, you two," Dawn scolded good-humoredly. "You don't want Rico storming up here again, do we?"
"John? John, we're here!"
John started at the sound of his name and was surprised to see his parents waving by the window as they reached the already open front door. He automatically walked up to them and gave them a hug.
"Hi Mom," he greeted. "Dad."
Torrie didn't have any idea how Americans greet visitors so she did the same thing John did and impulsively ran to the front door and hugged John's parents. John's face went blank at her side.
"Hi Mom!" she also greeted. "Hi Dad!"
Mr. Cena looked obviously amused. "Why, Carol, it looks like there's something our son's not telling us."
"Is she a friend of yours, John?" Mrs. Cena asked.
John snapped out of his hypnosis. "Oh, uh…her name's Torrie Wilson. She's that French tourist I was telling you about."
"Is she? She's very beautiful." his mother complimented.
Torrie only smiled sweetly. "Pleasure meeting you."
"Please do come in," Dawn said, walking up to greet them as well. "Make yourself at home while I get some snacks ready."
"Thanks Dawn," John said politely.
John led his parents to the living room and seated them on the cushy sofas as Torrie scrambled to get the ironing board and the pressed clothes out of their way. Later Dawn went back from the kitchen with cookies and juice while Torrie helped her arrange them on the coffee table. Then they were all finally seated down.
"This is quite a neighborhood, John," Mr. Cena began. "Are you sure this place is safe for all of you here?"
"The people here are okay. I like living here," John replied. "What brings you here, by the way?"
"We just want to visit, to see how the two of you are doing," his mother said.
"Everything's fine, Mom. I just wish you could tell me when you're coming to keep me from sending you fare to visit here all the time." John said rather sourly.
A piercing silence followed after Mrs. Cena cleared her throat silently while Mr. Cena looked away. Dawn fell silent too while John's hard expression remained on his face. Torrie felt inwardly offended at John's harsh words and had the sudden urge to kick him in the shins, but also she couldn't help wondering when his mother said the words, "the two of you." Was there somebody else?
"Well, um, anyway…we came here to say that if you have nothing to do we want all of you to come to Malibu with us by the end of the month." Mrs. Cena got out.
"Oh yes! A birthday party!" Dawn said happily.
The words Malibu and party suddenly caught Torrie's attention. "Birthday? Whose birthday are you saying?" she asked Dawn.
"John's mom." the brunette answered.
"Oh! Happy birthday, Mom!" Torrie said cheerfully, giving John's mother another hug.
Mrs. Cena chuckled. "No, not yet, sweetie, but you can come too. You're invited."
"Well, I wish that the money that you'll be spending should be paid for all your debts," John said loudly for all them to hear.
Another silence followed, longer this time. Then John stalked out of the living room and ran up the stairs, leaving them out of the blue. A few seconds later Torrie thought she heard a door slam. Her face burned again, feeling embarrassed for John's parents.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Cena," Dawn suddenly said apologetically. "He didn't mean to say that. He's just very high-strunged from too much work and he just can't—''
"It's all right, Dawn. Really," Mrs. Cena said immediately. "Honestly, we really couldn't blame him for what he's going through right now."
Couldn't blame him! Torrie thought, her eyes on her feet as her face burned even more. The least he can do is to appreciate their visits!
This was the very first time Torrie met John's parents, and the very first time she saw John's treatment to them. Never had she seen such disrespect coming out from him.
And even knowing John for a little while, she already knew that he took everything that matters seriously. John was going way too overboard, even in such trivial things such as money. But Torrie grew up knowing that every person needs to loosen up once in a while and that money wasn't really everything. Especially when things started coming to his red Beetle…
Why couldn't he just enjoy it?
…
Another day, another nickel.
John parked his Beetle in front of the boarding house and killed the engine, having finished another day's work. It was very late, that there's no one to see outside their houses from the whole cull de sac. He was beat, he was exhausted, but Torrie surprisingly did her job perfectly, made no mistake, and not a whine came out of her mouth that day, so he thought nothing had went wrong. John took off the keys off the ignition and handed it Torrie.
"Here, take these and open the door. Wash those costumes yourself because Dawn's not around," he ordered.
He half-expected her to argue but she only nodded. "Okay."
John watched her hop out the car with the same stinky armload of costumes in her arms, closed the door with a rather minimal sound of a slam, and walked up the stoop to the front door and opened it. There had been no doubt that Torrie had been acting strange the whole day, following orders only with a nod and only talks unless somebody asks her a question.
I won't get her to spend time with me with that attitude.
John was determined to find out what went wrong…later. He locked all the doors first then he got off the car himself, seeing Torrie waiting for him by the front door.
"Um…John?"
John squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of the Door 314 Man's voice behind him and opened them again as he turned around slowly to face him. "Matthew."
Torrie's eyes were bunched at the sight of the stranger facing off John a few feet away from the front door, but got more confused when John named the Door 314 Man "Matthew." She was sure she heard that name before…
Then the blonde mentally slapped herself. Oh my God…why didn't I notice?
Door 314 Man was actually John's estranged brother Matthew.
Torrie heard the horrible story from Dawn and Eddie a million times now. A college drop-out being a drug user and after impregnating a prostitute, Matthew Cena turned over a new leaf and faced a lot of odd jobs to raise his 2-year-old son Lucas all by himself while John obviously helps him by giving half of his salary sometimes whenever he gets fired. Sure, she sees him around the house sometimes, but Torrie didn't even know that he and John were related. They didn't even look alike.
"Let me guess…what do you need this time?" John queried as he wiped the hood of his car.
"I'm so sorry to bother you, John," Matthew said sheepishly. "But Lucas is terribly sick. I've been going in and out if I could take him to the hospital right now for a check up. Could you lend me some money, please?"
"Aren't you working? Where's your job, anyway?"
"At the department store. But their pay's not enough."
John sighed. "What a waste. If you had just finished your logical engineering course you would have gone places."
"I know. But I…I have him to think about."
John sighed again before taking out his wallet. "All right. I'll help."
Taking about two thousand dollars out, John handed it to his brother. Torrie noticed that Matthew looked at it like it was some kind of prize.
"Thank you, John," Matthew said, his voice above a whisper. "Another thing, can I borrow your car because—''
"No." John answered quickly.
"But my kid's shivering everytime I use the bike—''
John handed him another hundred dollars. "Just take a cab and go."
If Matthew's face had brightened a while ago, now it looked forlorn. "Oh…uh, thanks anyway."
Torrie felt as her heart would break, sharing Matthew's pain as he passed by her straight to the front door inside, running up the stairs up to his room like a young boy being slapped by his own father while John continued to wipe his car. Here Matthew was, jobless and trying to take care of a child he never wanted.
And John acted as if he didn't care. This was his nephew that they're talking about and he's just obsessed in getting his car cleaned.
Then Torrie couldn't contain her anger anymore. She marched straight up to John. "John, let's talk."
John froze, threw off his rag in the dirt, and gave her a rather bored look. "About what? This had better be good."
But his dismissal made Torrie angrier. "Why are you like that? Why do you love your car more than your family?"
The question made John gulp. He laughed nervously. "Th-that's not true…"
"It is true!" Torrie insisted. "I can see the way you treat your parents, and now your own brother. It's just a stupid car!"
"Stupid?"
A pause.
"Stupid, you say?" John repeated though gritted teeth. He took a step forward as the color in his cheeks risen, flushing them a deep, angry red. "If for you it's stupid, it isn't for me!"
Torrie stared at him, stunned, unable to answer. John was really furious.
"Torrie, this is the only car—the only thing that loves me," he went on loudly. "Something that gives and doesn't ask for anything in return. People around me have no consideration here when it comes to me whatsoever!"
He made so much sense that Torrie's anger was replaced with sympathy. "John, I…I didn't mean—''
John looked away, obviously trying to hide the emotion he felt. "I'm just…I'm just so sick and tired of giving, Torrie. Of sacrificing," he said flatly, his voice thawing down and his cheeks returning to its normal color. "And here I thought…you'd be the only one to understand."
That was the last thought Torrie had expected. Another look at John's clear blue eyes and she realized he was serious. She felt so touched and ashamed of herself at the same time that her own emotions were so wild and confused, making tears suddenly well up her green eyes.
"I-I'm so sorry… I really didn't know…" she mumbled, holding back tears. Her eyes went down to her sneakers.
Silence reigned for a long time.
"Don't be," John said gently.
Torrie looked up to see John's face, his expression so full of concern; something she hasn't seen before. She was ultimately shocked, but she managed not to show it.
All of a sudden John lifted his hand unconsciously towards her as if to touch her face. Torrie held her breath, trying not to make a single move as John's hand tentatively stopped an inch, and finally, touchdowned against her cheek, caressing it tenderly. Torrie shuddered against his touch, her knees going jelly and her heart racing again from the warmth of his hand.
Unknown to her, John was having the same problem. He continued to touch her to soothe her, careful not to do anything stupid that she might hate. His feeling heightened as Torrie's palm slid against the back of his hand that touched her face. John heard his own heartbeat thumping loudly in his chest that it deafened him, his stomach fluttering with so many butterflies it made him so jittery and weak.
Then their eyes met, an unspoken challenge, seeming like something had just clicked between the two of them. A blush suddenly stained Torrie's face, and John felt lucky for the hat he wore. They stood like that for a couple of minutes.
Suddenly John dropped his hand on his side. "Excuse me…"
As if nothing had happened, John brushed past Torrie in quick paces to the boarding house, almost bumping her shoulder in the process, opened the front door widely and sprinted hastily up the stairs. Then a door slammed.
Torrie just stood there and watched the direction where John had gone, flabbergasted. Then she finally remembered the cause of this mess as she clamped her hands over her mouth. "Oh no! What have I done?"
But deep down in her gut it was the effect that bothered her. Never did a guy like John Cena, a guy devoid of dating and relationships, shown that kind of affection to anyone else he knew. She'd been so swept away by his sudden change that she barely thought of anything else, and when she thought of what had just happened between the two of them, the sensation still felt so real that she still felt the warmth of his fingers on her skin. The recollection made her blush again.
She turned around to John's Beetle now, bewildered. Was this guy always this up and down? And if he claims he obviously couldn't get along with her, why had he made a special point of comforting her like that when everything was her fault?
Torrie leaned against the old vintage car for support, running her hands over the shiny red paint. Only one thought remained in her head now.
What was that all about?
(t.b.c.)
Don't forget to review!
4. You are so cute! - (Vous êtes si mignon!)
5. Grumpy boy…good thing you're cute. - (Bonne chose grincheuse de garçon... vous êtes mignon.)
6. You're much cuter! - (Vous êtes beaucoup plus mignon!)