Chapter 7: Not This Time (Christy's POV)

"Hey there, sleepyhead."

"Hey," I yawned, tying my red hair back into a ponytail. "I'm guessing it isn't morning anymore?"

"Yup, it's two in the afternoon. Thank your lucky stars it's Sunday today. Care for some Captain Crunch?"

I nodded sleepily and sat down. A few seconds sitting in such a brightly colored room is enough to shock you to full consciousness.

"So," she prodded, "I'm thinking you either did something very physically exhausting, or you're an insomniac. Which one is it?"

Memories of yesterday's Jeff-scapade flashed in my head, and I just could not suppress a grin. I couldn't wait until the next taping. "I'm not an insomniac, I'll tell you that much. And where did you go, Ashley?"

Ash poured the cereal into a bowl in front of me, trying not to meet my eyes as her face reddened. "Ah...not telling."

My eyes widened. "OHMYGOD...you fucked Raven, didn't you?"

"No! I like to wait until I actually know the guy. I'm not you, Christy."

"Touché," I grumbled.

She handed me a carton of milk and sat down. "Speaking of yesterday, I demand a really good explanation on why you stood us up."

"Uh...there was an emergency."

"Is that code for 'I was with Jeff'?"

"Fine. Yes."

She clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Tut-tut. Bad girl, deserting us to be with your little boy toy."

He's hardly "little" (and in more ways than one!), I thought to myself, but I immediately stopped before my mind wandered off to very dirty places. Man, it feels like forever's going to pass before the next TNA show. "Come on, Ash, as if you didn't secretly rejoice in the fact that you would be alone with your beloved Scott. You should thank me!"

-o-

My motorbike roared into the parking lot of Universal Studios. After removing my helmet and shaking my red hair (nothing worse than helmet hair, I always say), I checked to see that my clothes were on properly: red lace strapless top? Check. Fitted denims? Check. Black pointed-toe boots with four-inch heels? Check!

Jeff was (obviously) on my mind as I walked into my locker room. In fact, I'd shown up early today because I was so excited to see him. I wonder when the TNA boys will find out that we're...well, what are we, anyway? Technically, we're not dating yet. We're not fuck buddies, either. We'd discussed no such arrangement, and Jeff is, to me, much more than just a hot piece of ass. Anyway, whatever it is we are...how would they react once they find out that we're together? And when? How long did he plan to keep us a secret? I mean, I could really care less about whether or not Christian finds out that was my bra on his bed, but it seemed to me that Jeff wasn't too keen on letting people know about us just yet. Oh, God...what if he thinks this is an open relationship? I sure as hell don't want him screwing other girls!

Why am I thinking about this, anyway? It's not like we've known each other for more than two weeks. I steeled myself and strode into my locker room.

I'd barely been in there ten minutes when I heard knocking at the door. "Halt, who goes there?"

"Christy, it's me." Applying my mascara, I looked with one open eye through the mirror to see Raven open the door behind me.

"What, no pet name? Your creativity's certainly hit an all-time low today, munchkin."

He laughed weakly and sat down on the bench. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

I raised a brow.

"It's a, um," he stammered, suddenly fidgety, "it's a serious question."

"Well, shoot."

Raven started twiddling his thumbs. "Honestly, do you think I'm good-looking?"

My jaw nearly hit the floor. "WHAT?"

"You heard me."

"Yeah, I did hear, but I'm not sure if it's you I heard. Since when did you start getting all insecure and image-conscious? I thought questions like that were reserved for girls to ask."

"I know, but..." he trailed off, shrugging and staring blankly to his left.

My mind backtracked to last Sunday's conversation with my roommate.

"...And where did you go, Ashley?"

Ash poured the cereal into a bowl in front of me, trying not to meet my eyes as her face reddened. "Ah...not telling."

Bingo! "I'll bet my Harley that Ashley has something to do with all of this."

He tilted his head as he looked at me, a curious smile playing on his features. "Gee, you girls talk about everything, don't you?"

I shook my head, applying a thin layer of lip gloss before turning to face him. "Not really, but I kind of got the hint when she turned red as a tomato upon my inquiry of her whereabouts last Saturday."

"Really? I made her blush?"

"Yes, stud muffin, you did," I laughed. "And mind you, she's the aggressive type. I haven't seen her act this way since...well, since ever. Care to share what went on between the two of you that day? She never gave me a single detail."

He grinned, tracing his lips with his finger. "Then I don't think I will, either."

I punched him lightly on the arm. "Boo, no fair."

"It's none of your business, sugar bear."

Sitting down beside him on the bench, I put an arm around him. "If you want an honest answer to your question earlier, Raven, my roommate wouldn't dig you as much as she does if she didn't find you attractive."

"Well...thanks." A small smile appeared on his face. (Aww, I sense someone's turning into a softie!)

I spotted the clock on the wall behind him. Thirty minutes to showtime. Which reminds me..."Hey, Raven, have you seen Jeff Hardy today?"

"Nope. Why?"

"It's half an hour 'till the show starts! Everyone should be here by now."

"Christy," he explained, "that kid's always late. We're all used to it; in fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't show up again today. The only reason Jarrett's keeping him around is because the crowd loves him. Shame, though...he's got talent, just not the drive."

"On that note, I gotta go!" I said hurriedly before picking up my gym bag and running to the parking lot as fast as my high-heeled boots could take me. Let's see...Jeff's apartment is a ten minute ride from here. I've got over thirty minutes since my segment with Raven's not until mid-show, so I think I can make it. I hopped onto my motorcycle, jammed on my helmet and sped off.

Knock, knock.

A messy-haired Jeff in nothing but baggy black denim pants opened the door. "Yeah?"

"Girls absolutely hate it when a guy is late," I hissed. "I didn't dress up like this for nothing."

"I was planning to pick you up after the show. I'm not feeling well enough to wrestle---"

Before he could say anything else, I crushed my mouth against his, wrapping my legs around his waist as he staggered backwards into his apartment and onto his leather couch with me on top of him. He slithered his hands around my back and coaxed my lips apart with his tongue. After a good five minutes, I reluctantly got up. "Whew. Feeling better, honey?"

He nodded silently, his jaw hanging open.

"Good, 'cause you're going to wrestle tonight." I grabbed him by the wrist and led him out the door. "And this time, I'm driving."

We decided to take his blue and white Corvette to the show. I threw him a clean black TNA shirt from my gym bag and inserted the key into the ignition.

"Jeez, woman, you sure give a new meaning to the word 'go-getter,'" he said as he put on the shirt.

"Thanks," I laughed. "Of course, I'm only this way when I see something I want," I added, eyeing him meaningfully.

We reached Universal Studios in record time. "Amazing! Jeff showed up today!" Christian exclaimed as we walked in, causing everyone who saw us to erupt in cheers and some to gasp in shock. Raven emerged from his locker room and laughed at the sight. I could see Mr. Jarrett in the corner with a pleasantly surprised look on his face.

"Well, good job, Christy!"

I turned to him, confused. "Damn, Jeff, how long have you been out?"

-o-

"Is it just me," I mused, leaning on the open doorway, "or did the ladies love you even more tonight?"

Jeff didn't have any time to put on body paint tonight, and I could tell from the crowd reaction that they obviously liked him better that way. He laughed and looked my way. "I'm sure you know that there's only one girl I want to please."

I strode inside, my boots making a clickety-click sound with each step, and took the bottles of body paint lying on his locker room dresser. "If you really mean that, you'll let her have the-ese," I told him in sing-song, waving the bottles.

"But..."

"Come on, Jeffykins." I pleaded with puppy-dog eyes.

He sighed in defeat. "Oh, fine."

I giddily made my exit and picked up my bag from my locker room, safely stashing away the paint before walking back to his. He put an arm around me and walked with me to his Corvette. "So where are you taking me tonight?"

"Well, I was supposed to cook for you, but you dragged me here before I could get started..."

Really? That's so sweet. "You were gonna cook for me? Why didn't you say so earlier?"

"It's kind of hard to talk when a girl is on top of you on the couch with her tongue in your mouth," he said, laughing, "especially if that girl is irresistibly hot." He switched the radio on (Pearl Jam was playing) and stepped on the gas.

"Oh, stop it," I giggled. "So, again, where are you taking me?"

Soon enough, he stopped in front of a quaint little Italian restaurant. "Stay here," he said. "We're getting take-out...I doubt they'll let me eat there wearing this," he explained, motioning to his baggy jeans and black TNA shirt.

"You're hot no matter what you wear, Jeff." And hotter when you're not wearing anything, heh-heh.

He grinned at me and walked towards the restaurant. From my seat in the car, I watched as he talked to a waiter inside. I watched as a number of girls between twelve and thirty-five flocked to him and asked for his autograph. (With much satisfaction, I relished the fact that none of them had had their way with him in a locker room.) In about fifteen minutes, he emerged with a number of large paper bags and a bottle of wine.

"Sorry to keep you waiting." He stashed the food and wine in the backseat.

---

We gazed up at the stars, both of us lying on the hood of his car. He'd stopped on a grassy knoll overlooking a glassy lake, and we ate pasta and drank wine while enjoying the view.

"I like stopping here when I have the time. Whenever I'm here, I get inspired to write poetry."

I looked at him as he continued to gaze upwards. "You write poetry?"

He nodded.

"Well, can you read me one?"

"Uh, no," he laughed. "Someday, when I'm not this embarrassed about it."

"Oh, boo."

A few moments passed in oddly comfortable silence. I snuggled closer to him, my open palm laying on his chest and my head on his shoulder.

"So tell me," he asked softly, "what's the real reason?"

"What reason?"

"You know, why you haven't been with a guy in so long. I'm not buying into what you said about 'just not feeling like it.'"

I sat up suddenly and shivered. This was a hard topic to talk about...I hadn't opened up about it to anyone but Ashley. It's been over a year, but the wounds still stung. My eyes scanned the lake ahead. "Jeff, I don't know if I should..."

He wrapped me in his arms. "I won't force you, but I hope you'll open up to me one of these days. Right now, I'm not even sure if you take me seriously..."

"I do, Jeff." I let out a sigh, and I could see my own breath coming out as fog due to the cold weather. Maybe burying the past isn't the best way to deal with it. "I...my last boyfriend and I were together for three years. He worked as a stunt double in the movie industry. His job was very physically taxing, and he relied on a lot of pills." I could feel Jeff's arms tighten around me. "I came home from a photo shoot one day to find him sprawled out on the floor. He had no pulse." I shuddered at the memory. "The autopsy revealed that Derek had died of a drug overdose."

"So that's why you..."

"...said what I said the first time I met you," I finished, my voice now shaky with emotion. "I used to take them, too, when I started wrestling, but after his death I quit cold turkey. It pains me when I see other people taking them on a regular basis."

He kissed the top of my head. "I'm sorry, Christy."

---

Yellow streetlamps barely lit the sidewalk as he walked me to my apartment. We stopped at the entrance of the building. "I guess this is good night," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"You mean you don't want to come in? Ashley's at an autograph signing in New York today, so we've got the place all to ourselves."

He shook his head and gave me a little smile. "I don't want to overwhelm you."

"But I'm fine," I managed weakly, attempting to smile back.

He took my hand in his and kissed it. "Another day, sweetheart." He'd never called me 'sweetheart' before. "I want to make it good for you."

I think I get what he means now, and for that I felt better about opening up to him. Unlike other guys, Jeff wasn't pressuring me for sex, and in my eyes that made him more desirable. "It couldn't get any better, Jeff, but okay," I replied, hugging him. "Thanks for a great first date."

"You too."

"And...thanks for understanding."

"Anytime." He smiled.

I watched from my window as he got into his Corvette and waved as he drove away. If I experienced love at first sight revealing the man behind the paint, it was at this moment that I started to feel myself truly, genuinely falling for who Jeff Hardy was inside.