CHAPTER TWO

I avoided John like the plague for the next week. I really didn't want to see him or talk to him at all. I just wanted to forget about what happened and get on with my life. And I just knew that he would bring it up if I saw him, making it that much harder to forget. Over the past week, more and more about that night kept coming back to me. Flashbacks of me and John kept passing through my mind, and every time they did, I felt like I wanted to puke! It made me shiver just thinking of that night.

I walked down the halls of the arena, my heels clicking against the vanished floor with every step that I took. I was a photographer for the Raw brand, which was unfortunately the same show as John was on. I specialized in studio photo shoots, but I had taken some ring-side shots in my time with the WWE as well. I contiued to walk, until I came to a door with the name "Rebekah Lawson" on it. I took a deep breath and opened the door. I stepped into my small studio for the evening and closed the door behind me. I removed my jacket and hung it on a hook. I raked my fingers through my hair and hurried over to my desk. I placed my bag down onto the table. I closed my eyes and took a couple of breathes, before I unzipped my bag and began to unpack my camera equipment.

I had been there, setting up for my first shoot of the day, for about fifteen minutes when I heard a loud knock on my door. I rolled my eyes. Obviously a male knock. Then I gasped and whirled around. What if it was Cena? I really didn't want to see him. I'd had enough humiliation because of him. I covered my face with my hands and didn't respond, hoping whoever it was would think I wasn't there and leave. But the knock came again. And again. And again. They obviously knew I was in there. I sighed deeply and removed my hands from my face, straightened up and called out, "Come in!" I turned back around and started played with my camera intently, thinking that maybe whoever it was wouldn't bother me if it looked like I was busy. The door open and I heard strong footsteps walking into the room, then the door closed. I didn't turn around or look up. I was concentrating so hard on getting my camera set up.

"Aren't I even gonna get a hello?" a deep male voice asked. That wasn't John's voice that's for sure. My eyes shot up to look in the man's direction.

"Randy!" I squealed, a smile spreading across my face. I ran over to him, throwing my arms around his neck and squeezing him tightly.

He made a sarcastic choking noise and said, "I still need to breath, Becka."

I let him go only to slap him playfully in the arm. "What are you doing here?"

"I was in town so I thought I'd swing by and see my good friend, Rebekah." Randy said sweetly. A little too sweetly for my liking. Randy was one of my best friends and I knew him well enough to know when something was going on.

"Randy Orton, what are you up to?" I asked.

"Me? What makes you think I'm up to something?" he said, giving me an innocent look.

"Come off it, Randy, that look is too innocent to be innocent." I said, placing my hands on my hips. "Spill it."

Randy gave me that lopsided smirk and said, "Well, I was talking with John earlier..."

"Oh God...I don't think I like where this is going." I interupted, walking back over to the table my bag was on and sat down on top of it.

Randy walked across the room and took a seat beside me.

"So? What's going on with you two?" he asked, leaning back in his chair slightly.

"Nothing." I replied.

"He told me that you two..."

"What? Slept together?" I cut him off again, starting to get a little frustrated. "Yes, okay? Yes, we did. But it was a horrible, digusting, drunken mistake and it'll never happen again!" I exclaimed.

"So...you and John aren't...?"

"No." I said sternly. "I'm not angry. I don't blame John. I'm a grown woman, it was my decision and I was responsible for my own actions, but it was a one time thing and now I just want to forget it and move on."

"Okay, okay." Randy said, holding his hands up defensively. "I didn't mean anything by it. I was just asking."

"And now you know, so just drop it, Randy." I warned him, standing up again and walking to my equipment.

There was scilence for a few minutes before Randy leaned forward on the table where he was still seated, leaning his forearms on his knees. "Can I just ask you one thing?"

"What?" I turned around to face him.

"What's your problem with John?" Randy asked me.

"What's my problem?" I repeated his question. "My problem, Randy, is that Johnny boy is nothing more than a hoodrat."

Randy chuckled. "Is that so?"

"Come on, Randy, look at the way he dresses for a start. And the way he speaks and curses all the time. He's disrespectful and arrogant and I wasn't raised to tolerate that in people." I explained. "He's...he's just not my type, okay, Randy? We come from different backgrounds. He's just a street thug."

"Well, if you ask me, you two would make a pretty cute couple." Randy smirked.

"I'm not laughing, Randy." I said seriously.

Randy laughed and stood up from the table. "You know, Beck, maybe if you actually took the time to get to know John, you'd see that you're whole perception of him isn't as accurate as you think." he said as he walked towards my office door.

"Spare me the lecture, Randy." I said, going back to work.

He laughed. "I'm in town until tomorrow afternoon, maybe we can go for a drink or something tonight?" he suggested.

"Erm...yeah, sure." I said, glancing up at him.

"Alright, well, I'll call you later." he said, winking at me before he opened the door and walked out, closing it behind him.

As soon as I heard the door close, I sighed loudly and sat back down on the table, just letting what Randy said run through my mind. Was I judging John without even knowing the first thing about him? Maybe I was only seeing what was on the outside. Maybe there's more to John than I thought. He might be a good person inside. How would I know if I'd never bothered to talk to him properly? Perhaps I was wrong about him.

I suddenly shook my head and laughed out loud. What the hell was I thinking? This was John Cena we were talking about. I knew what his type were like.

Or did I?