CHAPTER FOUR

While I was sitting at a small table with Randy, all I could seem to think about was Cena and how I'd been so horrible to him earlier. Even though I didn't like John, nobody deserves to be treated like that. I shook my head and started to think that maybe I was reading too much into this. This was John Cena we were talking about. He probably has a long line of women to choose from. Was I being arrogant to think that I was any different to him than all the rest? Maybe I was worrying over nothing. Maybe John wasn't as hurt as I thought.

"Beck, you alright?" Randy asked, breaking me from my thoughts.

"What? Oh...yeah, I'm fine." I replied with a slight smile.

"You sure?" he questionned. "You seem a little distracted tonight."

"I'm okay, really." I insisted, but I could tell by the look on his face that he didn't believe me. "Honest."

"Yeah, right." Randy snickered. "You can either tell me what's going on now, or I can bug you all night until you finally give in and tell me anyway. Which will it be?"

I sighed and leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. "It's just...well, John came to my room earlier and I said some stuff to him that I wish I hadn't now. I'm just feeling a little guilty, that's all."

Randy smirked. "I thought you didn't even like John?"

"I don't." I replied, with no hesitation.

"Then why's this getting to you so much?" he questionned.

"I don't know." I shrugged. "He just looked pretty hurt by what I said. It doesn't matter how much I dislike someone, I still feel bad if I say something that was uncalled for." Randy didn't answer me. "I know what you're thinking, Randy."

"What?" he laughed.

"You think that I like John, don't you? And that's why I'm so bothered about this?" I asked, but continued to talk before he had a chance to answer. "Well, I don't like John, okay? I never have and I never will."

"I didn't say anything." Randy smirked, taking a gulp of his drink.

"You didn't have to." I said. "Just get that idea out of your head because it's not true and it's never going to be true either."

When me and Randy arrived back at the hotel, we ended up going up to his room and cleaning out his mini-bar. He didn't mention the John thing at all after the conversation we'd had in the bar. I knew what he was thinking though and he was wrong. He thought that the reason this was getting to me so much was because deep down I liked John and didn't want to see him hurt. Blah, blah, blah. Yeah right. The reason this was getting to me so much was that I didn't like to hurt people, even people I disliked, for no reason. What I said to John hadn't been called for at all. There was no reason for me to be so cruel. And that's what bothered me.

I left Randy's room at just past midnight. I had to get up the next morning and catch a flight to Toronto where the next Raw was being held. I thought I should get to my room and get some sleep, so I wouldn't be too hungover on the plane. I hated flying anyway, but flying with a hangover? That wasn't something to look forward to.

The elevator doors opened on my floor and I stummbled out. I placed a hand on the wall beside me, so that I wouldn't fall over, and made my way down the hall. I stopped in front of my room and rummaged in my pocket for my key. It took me a good five minutes, but I finally found it and attempted to put it in the lock, but it didn't quite work out.

"Oh, shoot." I said as I tried to line up the key with the lock, but still managed to miss. I made a frustrated noise, but then I felt the key being taken out of my hand. I blinked and looked up at the person beside me.

"Need some help with that?" John asked.

I stood there for a few seconds, not really knowing what to say. In the end I just nodded and stepped aside. He put the key into the lock, turned it around and pushed the door open.

"There yah go." he said, handing me the key back. I put my foot in the door to keep it open and just looked at him. Why was he helping me? After the way I'd been with him earlier, I'm suprised he didn't slap me. I just stood there with a totally bewildered look on my face.

John must have seen my expression because he laughed softly. "Well, I couldn't leave you out here to sleep in the hall, could I?" he said as if reading my mind.

A slight smile crossed my lips. "Thanks."

He smiled back and started to walk away.

"John?" I called after him.

He stopped and turned to face me again. "Yeah?"

"I..." I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for being so horrible to you earlier."

"Hey, don't worry about it." he smirked. "I've had worse said to me before." he said as he carried on walking.

I laughed slightly as I shook my head and entered my hotel room and shut the door behind me.

I suddenly frowned, more in confusion than anything. What the heck just happened? Was I just being nice to John Cena! I hate John Cena! I made a frustrated grunt and walked towards the bathoom. "Must be the alcohol effecting my brain." I snorted.