I decided to take a break from SOAR, I'm still writing the next chapter, but I felt like writing this. It's a Trish/Orton fic, something I have never done. It's short, but I think it's a good read, so enjoy.
Story Quote: Women need a reason to have sex. Men just need a place. -Billy Crystal
Worth It
Her hazel eyes scanned the packed club, her brow frowning in confusion. Why did people like places like this? Why did they enjoy the drinking and all the things that would lead to coition later on? And most importantly, why was she here?
Trish Stratus didn't enjoy places like this, and she never did. Being as though she almost became a doctor, all she saw when she stepped into a club was disease. The STD's that would be transmitted as a girl went to bed with a guy she didn't know, and vice versa. The accidents that would occur as a drunk set on the driver's seat, causing at least one person to land on a hospital bed. Again, why was she here?
Her eyes caught sight of the culprit that had dragged her into this place. The one who had told her she needed some fun in her life. The one who had said that she needed to live. The one who had bothered her until she agreed to come. The one who had abandoned her as soon as the two stepped into the club. Amy Dumas.
Trish's eyes slightly narrowed as she watched her suppose friend dance the night away. The erotic movements her body made as she brushed against a random guy. The way his eyes were locked on her ass, most probably thinking that he would be getting laid tonight. Men.
She had been approached several times already, and every time she heard a lame pickup line. Everything from asking to check her label because he thought she was 100 percent made in heaven, to asking if he could pour milk on her cereal when they woke up in the morning. Again, men.
"Trish Stratus."
Trish whirled around to see Randy Orton resting on the seat next to her. His posture screaming confidence, and his infamous smirk dancing across his lips. Great. "What do you want, Orton?"
"Testy, I see."
Oh, God. He was going to try to pick her up. "What is it?"
She saw him slunching back or his chair, the smirk never leaving his lips. "I just came here to ask you a question."
Here it comes. The lame pickup line. "Ask away."
"Are you single?"
Trish was astounded with his question. She never expected it; for a man to come out and just ask it was a new experience for her. She didn't now what to say.
"From your reaction, I'll take the answer is yes," he continue, his smirk getting wider, "I have this friend that would be highly interested in you. If you could write down your e-mail I could pass it to him."
A laugh escaped Trish's lips. This was interesting. No other man had taken this approach with her, she knew what was behind his words, but she would go with the flow, see if he was worth her time."Really? And what's this friend's name?"
"Why don't I let him answer that."
Good answer. "Well, Orton, I think it's unfair that this... 'friend' knows not only my name, but how I look like, and I know nothing about him."
She saw him raise an eyebrow. "And who says he knows that?"
Bad answer. "Oh, he doesn't?"
"Never said that."
Trish rolled her eyes. He was going so well, she actually thought he was worth the time of mind, but he just proved he wasn't. "I know what you're doing, Orton."
"Oh?"
She let a tired sign out. "I have to give it to you, you had a innovative way of approaching me, but you couldn't follow it up."
She saw that he was shocked by her answer. Most guys were when she told them what she thought of their approach. Why, she didn't know, apparently they believed that she would let them down easy. But she never did.
"Look," she begun, "if you want to have a chance with me, you have to be worth it."
She could tell that she had hurt his ego, and from the the coloring of his face he wouldn't allow it.
"You think highly of yourself."
The smirk had finally left his mouth, and it was now forming in hers. "I should."
"You are a-"
"Bitch?" She let a chuckle out. "If can't take the truth, Orton, then don't try to pick me up. Afterall, you're not even in my league."
"Not in your league?" He laughed, "Baby, I was doing you a favor by approaching you."
She couldn't help it. She had to laugh. Did this kid really believe what he was saying? "Sweety, how old are you?"
She saw him glare. "Twenty-four? Twenty-five? Honey, I'm thirty years old, I'm not just another little girl who will go to bed with you because of your looks. I'm a woman.With me, you have to prove that you're worth it. And you're not."
Her words stung, she could tell by his expression. "Stratus, you need to get your head out of your ass. Like you said, you're thirty, do you really think men will be interested in you much longer?"
Now he was pissing her off. "Look, Orton, the bottom line is that you're a baby. You're just getting out of you're diapers. I like men, not boys."
"Too bad." He snickered. "In a few years only horny teenage boys will be interested in a senile body like yours."
Her hand itched to slap him, but she wouldn't give him the pleasure to know that he had gotten her to that state of mind. "Look, Orton, why don't you go to pick one of those little girls on the dance floor up. Because with the kind of game you have, that's all you're ever going to get."
"Yeah, you're right," he said chuckling, "I should go pick one of those girls up, because they're at least working down there."
That was it. All she heard was the bang of her palm hitting his cheek. She saw him stand, a vein throbbing in his temple. His eyes narrowed at her, and he started to walk away, murmuring vulgar things about her.
Asshole. She couldn't believe that she had actually lost her temper over him, no other guy had ever been able to do that. She smiled, Orton was different than most guys who came on to her, he could hold himself in an arguement with her. She liked that.
But he still wasn't worth it.