Authors Note : Chapter 20. Wow. Awesome stuff. Thank you for the reviews guys, it really means the world to me that you like where I'm going with the story. Here's the next chapter, hope you guys like. Please R & R, and don't forget I don't anything or anyone in this :)

Why do men insist on being so god damn stubborn?

Trish was more than annoyed, she was positively fuming. Her petite blonde form was a force to be reckoned with as she made her way through the hotel lobby, crashing through anything and anyone that had the unfortunate luck to be stood in her way. Having spent the remainder of last night trying to call Randy Orton after he had walked in on her and Jeff sleeping, her patience had been worn down to the very end. Every single attempted call she had made, was automatically diverted to his voicemail, not so subtly informing Trish that he didn't want to talk.

Punching the number for the thousandth time into the key pad, Trish waited for his deep tones to sound in her ear once more.

"Yo, you've reached the Legend Killer. I've probably got my dick in some bitch, which is more important than taking your call. So fuck off already."

Trish grimaced at the less than delightful phrase Randy had recorded as his message. No matter how many times she had heard him say it this morning, it still made Trish nauseous to her stomach, as though she were ready to vomit.

Holding the receiver to her mouth, Trish spat her newest and final message.

"Orton! Since you're being such a big fucking girl about this whole thing, I'm coming to you. You keep you ass where it is."

Snapping her phone shut, Trish exited the hotel, waving down a near by cab. Pulling up to Trish, she had nearly wrenched the door off in her fury. Dropping into the backseat, Trish gave her destination as a Sports Bar a couple of blocks away as she sat back, all the while her anger simmering.

It taken all of Trish's considerable persuasive power to get Shelton Benjamin to even admit that he was rooming next door to Randy in this city after RAW. Sweet talk, promises and coy giggles later, and Trish had finally succeeded in finding out where Randy had gone for the afternoon. Promising to not reveal that Shelton Benjamin given her the info, Trish had marched out of the hotel, the anger in the pit of her stomach far outweighing the pain in her ribs which normally would have been a deciding factor on her leaving the building. A good night's rest had done a lot of good to the ribs, but little to soothe her anger.

Trish truly was reaching boiling point.

This whole Orton thing is just getting insane. Why do I even care if he thinks I'm fooling around with Jeff? What fucking business is it of his whom I chose to spend my free time with. Banging me once doesn't exactly give you free reign into my personal life. And has he forgotten who walked out on who the morning after? The god damn arrogance! If he wasn't such a fucking girl about it, we'd be okay.

Realising the vein in her head was probably looking pretty ugly right now, Trish forced herself to take a deep breath, trying her hardest to dampen the anger. Without realising it, the taxi had reached it destination, pulling up to the curb just outside the bar. Thrusting a collection of notes through the gap in the glass, Trish barrelled out the door, stomping into the bar.

Once inside, her chocolate brown eyes narrowed, scanning the assorted seats and booths. There were many WWE superstars here relaxing, but Trish was only interested in signs of the Legend Killer. Trish's vision locked onto a booth at the back, her top lip curling into a smile.

Trish could clearly see the giggling face of Kristal from her vantage point, but the back of the vinyl red booth seat blocked her view of Kristal's company. The outstretched arm with streaked tattoos was a huge giveaway. Throwing her mass of blonde hair over her shoulder, Trish quietly advanced toward the pair. Getting closer, Trish felt her stomach turning as she picked up bits and pieces of the conversation.

"…I am very adventurous Randy. Between you and me? I'm not wearing any underwear."

Your mother would be so proud Trish thought to herself, stopping next to the booth, hands resting on her jutting hips.

Hazily lost in Kristal's over-exposed cleavage, Randy lazily looked up from the table to see Trish. His body stiffened all at once, pulling his arms back to beneath the table.

"Trish."

"Randy…we need to talk." Trish's reply was impassive as she looked at him. Despite herself, Trish could feel a twinge of jealousy at the set up before her.

"Uh…can I help you?" Kristal pouted, glaring at Trish as she crossed her arms.

"Yeah. You can. Shift your ass." came Trish's catty reply.

"In case you hadn't noticed sweetie, I'm here on a date…with Randy Orton." Kristal's smug grin was worthy of Randy himself.

"I don't think I asked for a conversation sweetie, I'm pretty sure I just asked you to move." Trish smiled back, obviously false and strained.

"C'mon baby girl, lets go." Randy sighed, sliding out of his seat past Trish. Flicking her hair over her shoulder, Kristal narrowed her eyes at Trish as she followed suit, tottering off after Randy who was heading now heading out of the restaurant. Randy turned back to face red-faced Trish, stood by herself at the table.

"Learn to take a hint Trish. I don't hit the same piece of ass twice. Especially not a slut who screws around behind my back." Randy instantly wanted to take the words back, seeing the hurt flash across her face.

But he had a point to prove.

He had gone to Trish last night, his own heart on the line, wanting to tell her how he felt. It was a big deal to him. That had never, ever happened with a girl before. And to find her in the arms of someone else was not only humiliating, but crushing to the side of Randy who had won through wanting to express himself. In that moment he had shut down his feelings for good.

"You don't get it Orton," Trish fired back, "Nothing happened last night."

"No, you don't get it Stratus," there was that smile again, "I don't care."

Trish could only watch on, feeling her heart sink to the pit of her stomach, as Randy left the restaurant hand in hand with Kristal.

Sighing, Trish stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans, feeling intensely stupid and more than a little humiliated. The strong arm sliding around her waist made her jump out of her skin.

"That was the ugliest thing I think I ever saw."

"Shut up Cena." Trish sighed, sinking into his warm embrace.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Two slices of 'Death by Chocolate' fudge cake and a bottle of beer later, and Trish didn't feel so bad. Opposite her, John scoffed down a plate of pancakes drenched in syrup.

"You might want to try chewing there John." Trish giggled, noting the sticky syrup smile Cena gave her in response.

"So, you wanna 'fess up on what happened?" His gaze was piercing, making Trish wanting to avoid it at all costs.

"It's stupid. Jeff stopped by my room last night after what happened in the ring, to see if I was okay. Randy showed, walked into my room and saw us laying on the bed together…fully clothed I might add. That macho bullshit kicked in and he stormed out, without giving me a chance to explain, and hasn't taken a call from me since." Trish gritted her teeth at the memory.

"You gonna tell me why Randy Orton would be coming to see you? What's up with you two?"

"Some of it you must know by now." Trish was evading the question, and John knew it.

"That you were seeing Orton? Yeah, most of us know that." John added.

"We spent one night together…but that's all it was. Its like we almost were…but not quite. Now the idea of 'us' is not even an option." Trish's sigh caused her shoulders to slump forward as she considered the possibilities of what had happened with Randy earlier.

"I never thought you'd be the type to be sucked in by that arrogant bullshit." John's honesty cut her to core. Trish had never thought she was the type either.

"There's just something there John. I don't know what it is, and believe me I tried to fight against it…but I just can't escape the fact that I have feelings for him." John remained quiet, studying Trish from across the table.

"Why can't it ever be simple," Trish moaned, "why can't I just say hey Randy, I like you. Its all bullshit and a huge game to him. Who can manipulate who. Love isn't meant to be like this."

"Love?" John's eye brow raised as he posed the question.

"You know what I mean John. He's so fucked up. Maybe I am too." Trish dipped her head, resting her chin against her chest.

As much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, it wasn't as though she were as free and fun loving as everyone believed she was. In truth, she was frightened of opening her heart up to someone again. It must be a daunting task to date the emotional vacant Trish Stratus.

"The one time I even think about letting someone close…letting them pass through the walls…and this happens. I get insulted and hurt and humiliated as he stalks off with the leggy bimbo," Trish huffed, shoving her plate across the table in frustration, "he's a fucking asshole and I'm done pandering to his mood swings. Let him go slut around with Kristal and any other of those bitches backstage. I don't care. Let's get real here. It could never have worked with Randy anyway."

"Who you trying to convince Trisha?" There was a slight glint in John's eye as Trish held his gaze.

Rolling her eyes, Trish got up from her seat, stretching her farms upwards, feeling the vertebrae in her spins click and realign. Leaving her seat, she bent over John, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you John. You're a babe. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a certain Hardy Boy I need to go talk to."

Winking at her friend, Trish wandered towards the entrance, the male patrons in the bar captivated by the swinging of her perfectly rounded buttocks as she moved. John shook his head, watching the Canadian leave.

It concerned him more and more that Trish was getting involved with Jeff again. One of the reasons he and Trish had become so close was because he caught her in a particularly blue moment, and she had poured out her heart and soul to him.

She was like his little sister, and the idea of Jeff potentially being able to hurt again made him want to punch something until it broke. But what choice did he have? Could he try and convince Trish to stay alone, locked in the distance she had set herself from everyone else, including her friend. Cena knew Trish deserved to be happy.

If he had to play a part in making sure she got what she wanted, then John knew he would do whatever it took to make sure.

Even if that did involve Orton.

Making himself certain that Trish had exited the building by craning is neck out the side of the booth, John dug his cellular phone out of his pocket. The last thing he needed was Trish finding out what he was up to. Selecting a number out of his contacts list, John Cena held the receiver to his ear, waiting to be connected to the other phone.

"'Sup. Its Cena…yeah shut up for a second. We need to talk…I don't care if you're banging the shit outta Angelina Jolie, you will get your ass back to the bar so I can set you straight. You got 20 minutes."

Without further explanation, Cena ended the call, and carefully placed the phone back down on the table. He had sounded annoyed that John had interrupted him. All Cena could do now was wait…and hope Randy Orton would come.