A/N: Sorry for the delay in my updates. Last month was crazy with school and exams and everything. By the end of this month, I should be updating everything regularly. Thank you guys for your continued support, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Here's the start of the John-Trish action I promised...
Romance was not John Cena's specialty. Wine and roses were usually substituted with beer and popcorn. His idea of a romantic night was playing an intense game of air hockey at a local arcade. And though to the public he was a smooth talker, he sometimes stumbled over his words during a private conversation with a beautiful woman. He wasn't into fancy dinners. He was into sports bars.
But tonight was an exception. Tonight, he would swallow every ounce of macho pride in him. He was going to turn the night into a spectacle. Expensive restaurant, fine wine, candlelit table in a secluded corner. And probably the biggest sacrifice of all – a wardrobe change. The usual denim shorts and throwback jersey were tossed aside, replaced by black slacks and a navy button-down shirt. The Converse sneakers were transformed into polished black shoes.
And as John observed himself in the mirror, he shook his head. "I look like I just stepped outta Orton's closet," he muttered to himself, smirking. The metrosexual look certainly wasn't his thing, but he'd deal. Just for tonight.
"Wow," he heard Trish's voice behind him. John turned to face her, smiling when he noticed her amazed expression. He tilted his head expectantly. Trish nodded her approval, "Someone cleans up nice."
She stepped out of the bathroom, clad in a short black dress, complete with strappy heels. Her blonde hair was slightly curled, falling elegantly over her shoulders. John's mouth fell open, going dry as he admired her. Upon noticing the wide-eyed gaze he held on her, Trish smiled and twirled around, showing off the rest of her outfit.
"Beautiful," John mumbled, nodding his appreciation. He moved towards her, unconsciously licking his lips. Strong hands were placed on her hips. When Trish tilted her head back to see him, John dipped his head down and pressed his mouth to hers. When she pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers. "Lets skip dinner," he said, winking suggestively.
He kissed her again, this time much more deeply. His tongue plunged into her mouth and she accepted it gratefully. She returned the kiss fervently, her hands clasping around the back of his neck. Soon after, however, she broke the kiss and shook her head, willing her body to calm down.
"No, no," she insisted, though her tone wasn't quite convincing. Truthfully, she would be content to stay locked up in their room all night. But their reservations were already placed. And she was not going to pass up the opportunity to drag John out in a pair of slacks. Still, a sexy gleam filled her dark eyes. "Dinner first… then dessert."
John groaned, but he smiled at the promise. Giving her one more small kiss, he took her hand in his and headed for the door. Trish paused by the mirror, giving herself a last minute hair and makeup check. He stood behind her, still gripping her hand. He watched both of their reflections, a small smile touching his lips. They looked like they stepped right off the red carpet of an A-list movie premiere.
Giving her hand a squeeze, John pulled her away from the mirror. "Baby, we are gonna own that restaurant."
Eventually, John eased into the role of social debutant. Sort of. It didn't help that, from the moment they stepped into the "fine dining establishment," Trish was bombarded with an insane fit of giggles. And by the time the maitre d' took their order in a phony accent, neither could keep a straight face. They turned the experience into one long joke, folding their napkins into shapes and delicately sipping their glasses of wine with their pinkies extended out. When a plate of hordeurves was placed in her face, Trish burst into laughter, prompting the puzzled and slightly annoyed waiter to walk away without even offering the tray to John.
"Baby, you're gonna get us kicked out," John whispered, hunching over the table.
When her laughter subsided, Trish shook her head. "Sorry," she said sheepishly. A grin still lit up her face. "I guess I'm more of a beer-at-a-sports-bar kinda chick." John's gaze grew tentative, and Trish bit her lip. She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "But this is all very sweet of you. I appreciate the effort."
John flashed her a grin, running his thumb over the back of her hand. His eyes dropped down, staring at the empty plate beneath him.
"I'm sorry about last night," he said, lifting his gaze up.
Trish shook her head, releasing his hand and throwing hers in the air. "Don't be," she insisted. "I was too pushy. I should've just let you rest…"
"I know, but still, you were right about some things. This CD shit is big, but it isn't everything. You're the most important thing in the world to me. I miss you, and I plan to make as much time as possible for you and me," he assured her.
Trish smiled, but didn't speak. A moment later, John reached into his pocket, retrieving a long, slender black box. "Just another apology," he said, offering the box to her.
Trish hesitated, but shortly after she accepted the gift, opening it eagerly. Her eyes lit up as she pulled a gorgeous diamond-encrusted necklace from the box, letting it dangle between her fingers.
"John," she breathed, her brown eyes widening. "This is beautiful." She stared in awe at the necklace, secretly wondering how much a piece of jewelry like that must've cost. "You didn't have to do this…"
He sent her a bashful look, rising from his seat. He paused behind her chair and stooped down, snatching the necklace from her grasp. Brushing her blonde locks to the side, he positioned the necklace in front of Trish, clasping it behind her neck. After setting her hair back over her shoulders, John returned to his seat. She stared at him lovingly, placing a hand over her necklace as the waiter returned with their meals.
