A/N: Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter, I'm glad to see you're still somewhat into the story! I tried to throw a little bit of a wrench into the plot with this chapter... we'll see what you think about it. Review, review, review! P
Chapter 4
For the first time that night, a brilliant grin flashed across Trish's face. Laughter bubbled up from her stomach as she placed a hand over her ribcage, fighting for breath. It had been weeks since she spent time out with Lita - or any of her friends for that matter - without John by her side. She'd almost forgotten how hilarious her fiery friend was. She took another sip of her beer, the glass bottle clanking against the smooth surface of the bar as she placed it down.
"Where the hell's Stacy at?" Trish asked, still beaming. "She's gotta hear you do that impression..."
Lita's smile flattened as she glanced over her shoulder, gazing out into the crowded mass.
"Off with Price Charming, of course," she quipped. "If I didn't love them so much, I'd choke them. Hard."
A giggle slipped unintentionally from Trish's throat. She too surveyed the room, and her eyes soon landed on the couple who were, as usual, connected at the hip. Any other night, their very public displays of affection would not bother her in the least. But tonight, she was boyfriend-less, and the most fractional bit of jealousy twinged in her. She shook her head, turning back to her drink.
"I hate my life," she muttered jokingly, taking a long sip. Her comment drew back the redhead's attention.
"Don't you start that shit with me," Lita replied, wagging a warning finger at Trish. "You're all pissy 'cause your boyfriend wouldn't have sex with you, once. I'm not even sure that the guy I'm having sex with is even my boyfriend."
Trish nodded, her head bowing slightly. Things could be much worse. She knew she should respect how hard he was working and accept the fact that she would have to make some sacrifices. It was just that whenever she actually sat and thought about their relationship, her friends' warnings blared through her head.
"Part of me knows that, Lita. That I'm being ridiculous. But then there's this paranoid side of me, it keeps nagging me. And maybe it has reason. Maybe it's really not that ridiculous at all..." she babbled, her eyes becoming frantic.
Lita sent her a look that was half amused, half scared.
"What the fuck are you talkin' about?" she asked incredulously.
Trish shrugged, gripping her beer tightly.
"I don't even know. It's just... I keep thinkin' about what you said the other day. About our relationship suffering," she explained.
"Oh, Trish, don't think like that," Lita assured her with a small, but sincere, smile. "I'm bitter. You can't take anything I say seriously."
Trish was skeptical. Sure, Lita's current romantic situation was a mess, but that only further proved the point. She had a keen eye for trouble in paradise.
"What if you were right?" she asked.
"I'm not right, Trish. I'm not right about much of anything these days," Lita contested, her lips curling downward.
Trish nodded. She was still concerned, but at the moment she desperately wanted to change the subject. The mental dissection of her relationship had to stop, for now.
"Where's Edge?" she inquired, ignoring the look of confusion sent her way. She knew her transition to the matter was far from smooth, but she was through discussing John and was genuinely curious. Lita's puzzled gaze soon turned icy.
"Don't know, don't fuckin' care," she spat. Her voice dripped with venom, but her eyes told another story. The hazel orbs filled with a sadness Trish hadn't seen in her friend in a long time. She chewed her lip, placing a manicured hand over Lita's.
"Have you tried just talking to him?" Trish asked. She was met with a blank stare. "You're obviously not happy. Maybe you should tell him that, instead of bitchin' and whinin' to us all the time."
Lita couldn't contain a scoff. She laughed ruefully, gulping her drink.
"Me and Edge, our relationship isn't much for talking," she reminded her.
Trish frowned, a mixture of emotions hitting her. She sympathized with her friend for getting herself into such a predicament. But moreover, a small sensationof anger surged through her when she thought of Edge, whose indecisiveness caused Lita far too much grief.
"No offense, Li, but if you two can't spend your time doin' anything but fucking each other, then you're not in a relationship," she said firmly.
"No shit," came the grunted reply. Her eyes fixated on the bar top, Lita hastily downed the rest of her beer. When she turned her head and noticed Trish's expectant stare, she shrugged defeatedly.
Trish sighed, tilting her head in the opposite direction. Her disheartened gaze was quickly replaced with surprise when she spotted him across the bar. Speak of the fuckin' devil...
He stood awkwardly across the room, one hand in his pocket while the other raked uncomfortably through his blonde locks. His eyes carefully examined the room. He was looking for somebody... maybe her.
It took less then a minute for Lita to follow Trish's wide-eyed gape and make the connection. Her eyes widened similarly, a lump instantly lodging in her throat. Not a moment later, he turned, locking eyes with the redhead. They stared at each other from across the crowded bar, and Trish could feel the intensity building.
"What do I do..." Lita muttered, tight-lipped. Her gaze was flat, though Trish could see the panic hidden in the depths of her hazel eyes.
Trish's gaze switched back and forth between Edge and Lita. After finally settling on Lita, she sighed, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder.
"Go," she instructed, nodding her head in Edge's direction. Lita gazed at her with uncertainty, as though she were asking permission to leave Trish behind. The blonde woman nodded firmly, giving Lita's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
She watched in silence as Lita drifted off, slowly approaching her lover. Trish's gaze remained steady on the pair, who for a long moment simply stared at each other. They started to speak, tentatively. Trish wondered if she should approach the pair, to mediate their conversation. She ultimately decided against it, leaving the couple to sort out their own problems. A few minutes later, they exited the bar together.
Stacy and Chris had left awhile ago, shortly after they first spotted them. Once again, she was all alone.
Turning back to the bar, Trish ran her fingers up and down the now empty beer bottle. A sigh left her pouted lips as she leaned her weight onto the bar. Well, this was pathetic.
"Hey sweetheart, lookin' for some company?"
Trish bit back a sarcastic laugh. Though she had yet to turn around, she immediately felt sorry for the poor soul who spit such a line to her. She slowly spun her seat, prepared to let the guy have it... but when she realized who he was, she paused. A genuine smile appeared on her pretty face.
"I thought you were already spoken for, Orton," Trish said, cocking an eyebrow at the young superstar.
Randy flashed her a handsome smile, taking a step towards her. He slipped into Lita's recently vacated seat, joining Trish at the bar. He flagged down the bartender, ordering a drink for himself and another for her. As two opened bottles were placed down before them, he faced her.
"Where's the boyfriend?" he questioned, his gaze briefly searching the room.
"Asleep," Trish said plainly, taking a swig of her new beer. "He's been workin' himself to death lately..."
Randy eyed Trish curiously. Her tone was far from the optimistic Trish he knew.
"You don't sound too happy about that," he noted, his brow rising slightly. His illusive comment prompted her to shrug.
"I'm dealing with it," she said, her voice more nonchalant than he believed to be true. Then, her gaze fell to her feet, watching as they dangled beneath the bar stool. "It's not so bad, I guess. Just not used to bein' without him."
Randy nooded his head in agreement. He experienced that same thing every single week - each time he had to leave his fiancee at home. And regardless of how routine it had become, leaving her behind never got easier.
"Eventually you get used to the bouts of loneliness..." he commented wistfully, sipping his beer.
Trish raised an eyebrow, "That's pretty pessimistic of you, Orton. And I was so sure you'd find other ways to occupy your time." She finished the statement with a wink.
"The playboy days are over, Champ," he noted sadly, though his eyes lit up with a smile. "The only action I'm gettin' on the road nowadays is a phone call and a cold shower before bed."
"Poor baby," Trish cooed, shaking her head softly. Her anger towards John, which had since dwindled to a mere twinge, flared up in her momentarily. She would not be taking cold showers every night. No way in hell. Sighing, she turned back to Randy, whose attention seemed to have drifted as well. "So, is this what you do now? Sit here and look all pitiful at the bar, waitin' for some chick to come feel sorry for you?"
"Well damn, woman, what's with all the hostility? If I didn't know any better, I'd say someone's feeling a little pitiful themselves," he said, his blue eyes locking on her. When her gaze fell to the floor, he frowned, wondering if he said something wrong. In the end, he gave up, tossing his hands in the air. "I'm just playin' with ya, Champ. No hard feelings."
Trish frowned as well, feeling guilty for the way she acted towards him. He was keeping her company, after all...
"Sorry about that pitiful comment," she said sincerely, directing her eyes back up to him. "I'm just gettin' that lonely bout, I guess."
"All good, Champ." He paused, reaching for his bottle and raising it towards the ceiling. "Lets toast... to being lonely and getting drunk..."
Trish smiled, clinking her glass together with Randy's. "To being lonely and getting drunk... and to bitchin' about our significant others behind their backs."
Randy laughed, "I gotta start hangin' with you more often..."
