CHAPTER THREE

Date: February 8, 2005

Day: Tuesday

Dear Journal,

As you can probably imagine, I screwed up with Stephanie again today. I don't know WHAT THE HELL is WRONG with me, but she won't even give me the time of day! I swear, I went into her office today with the most pure intentions ever. My plan was just to go in there with the damn roses, give them to her, and ask her out. I bought her two dozens of the most expensive red roses in this blasted city! Two dozens! But apparently, that still wasn't good enough...

Flashback

Chris stood outside Stephanie's office door carrying two dozens of the most expensive red roses he could find. "Fit for a princess," he said with a dreamy smile on his face. He worked up his nerves, then knocked lightly on the door.

"Come in!" Stephanie called.

Chris opened the door and stepped inside, instantly nervous. He smiled at her and softly closed the door. He leaned against it and observed her. She hadn't looked up from her work yet. Her hair was pulled back in a messy, yet cute, ponytail. She had on her reading glasses, and she was biting her lip in concentration. She finished signing her signature on a paper with a grand flourish and smiled.

"Sorry to keep you...waiting..." Her voice trailed off as she looked up and noticed that it was Chris standing there. Her eyes widened at the sight of all those roses he had. "What are you doing here?"

"I actually have a question for you," he said seriously.

She looked at him suspiciously. "Make it snappy. You're wasting my valuable time."

"Gee, Princess, must you be so rude?" he asked, sounding hurt. "Can't we have a normal conversation for once?"

"What's this 'normal' that you speak of?" she asked. "I mean, you might know what 'normal' is, since you're...normal. But I'm a McMahon. 'Normal' shouldn't even be in my vocabulary."

Why is she being such a bitch? he wondered. He shook his head, trying not to get angry. "Ok, Stephanie, if that's the way you've got to be..."

"I'm afraid so, blonde boy," she said with a smirk. "Now, the clock is ticking. What was your question?"

"Forget about it," he said shortly. "It's not important... You'd laugh anyway."

"Oh, Chris, feeling insecure? Where's your confidence?" she teased.

It disappeared when I stepped through the door of your office, he thought sadly. "I bought you these," he said, putting the roses on her desk. "Throw them away, eat them, I don't care."

"Eat them?" she laughed. She noticed the disappointed look on his face. "Ok, what's wrong?"

"I buy you flowers-roses at that-and you treat me like crap," he said. "What's the point of even trying to tell you how I feel or ask you..."

"Ask me what?" she asked curiously.

"Ask you why you're not out on the corner of Easy Street doing your job," he finished. "Your customers are asking me about you and it's getting a little annoying."

"You're such a loser," she said. "A real loser."

"You're the only one who has something to lose, Stephanie, and you don't even know you have it," he said mysteriously. "It's a shame that you don't realize what's right in front of you." He turned on his heel and walked over to the door.

"Hey, Chris?" she called as his hand touched the doorknob.

"Yeah?" he replied, not turning around to look at her. Be still, my beating heart, he thought, and immediately wanted to slap himself.

"Thanks for the roses."

He smiled to himself. "Anytime... But next time I'm not going broke to buy you these expensive roses... Maybe you could lend me some of the money you make on the corner?"

"Get out!" she exclaimed, but her voice didn't sound very angry. It sounded...shaky. Quivering.

He left.

End Flashback

Chris stared off into space, remembering the way Stephanie's voice had sounded when she'd told him to get out. It had almost sounded like... "Nah," he said. "Impossible." He shook his head, then started to finish his entry in his journal.

Ok, so my plan went terribly wrong. I didn't mean to insult her or anything, but it was her own fault! All I wanted to do was ask her out on a freaking date, and what did she do? Accuse me of being "normal" and tell me that I was wasting her "valuable" time. What a load of bull! I mean, any woman would be honored for me to grace her with my presence... Any woman, it seems, besides little Miss McMahon.

This whole thing is stupid. How can she not realize the way that I feel about her? Can't she tell by the way that I kiss her? What the hell says "I love you" better than two dozens of expensive red roses? Yeah, sure, the actual words would be good. But I'm kind of...afraid...to say it. She so obviously hates me. If I tell her that I love her, she will probably slap the hell out of me and demand that I apologize for insulting her. I'm not exactly looking forward to receiving a slap from her anytime in the near future. Sure, the skin to skin contact with her is thrilling, but her slaps are... What's the word I'm looking for? Deadly!

Only six days left. SIX DAYS. Plan one didn't work. Now I better come up with a plan two...

More Next Time,

Chris

P.S. I can't help but wonder... When she told me to get out... Was she crying?