A/N: After a life threatening case of severe pancreatitis & emergency surgery I am back - minus a gallbladder and armed with another chapter of Cherry Bomb. Thanks for sticking with me, hope you enjoy the chapter.

Disclaimer: The names and brands that you recognise belong to their respective owners. I am not affiliated with the WWE, nor any other company. This story is purely a work of fiction based on ideas from my wee brain. I am not being paid for this story, I simply write for my own entertainment.

Chapter 36: Paris Hilton and Mexican Food Troubles.

Jericho left shortly after our chat to get ready for his match. Our talk had given me a lot to think about. I showered and changed, but the idea kept playing on my mind.
Was it really possible for me to try to break the status quo?
And if so, how exactly would I go about it?

I dressed in a pair of dark red jeans and a black 'The Clash' t-shirt, and was just zipping up my boots when I heard familiar music playing. My eyes were drawn to the monitor in front of me. There on screen, knelt at the top of the ramp yelling "It's Clobbering Time" was the one person I was hoping not to lay eyes on. How had I forgotten about this match? CM Punk vs Randy Orton. Hell, I was supposed to be at ringside, originally.

Frankly, I was surprised the powers that be were letting it go ahead after the brawl between the two, though they did see fit to take me away from ringside, but especially with how viciously Phil had beaten Randy. Phil isn't exactly known for playing by the rules. The old Phil, my Phil, there wouldn't be a single doubt in my mind that he would be ever the professional during a match. But over the last few months he had changed, gone was the arrogant, rude, sweet, loving man that I loved with all of my heart. Replaced by a jealous, paranoid, violent stranger. This new Phil, I knew nothing about him. I just hoped that if anything remained of the man I knew that it would be enough to stop this match from becoming a blood bath and potentially ruining two careers.

As Randy slithered onto the stage in full Viper mode the screen cut to a close up of Punk that made my heart clench. His eyes were ice cold and completely focused on the man descending the ramp. As the two men stood toe to toe, as the referee held up Randy's championship, my body tensed up. As Punk's body collided with Randy's and he rained down blow after blow, I leapt to my feet and turned the monitor off. There was no way I could watch that and not either cry, scream or throw up. Possibly all three. I took a deep breath banishing the bile and set to work on drying my hair. Any distraction is a good distraction.

...

"You're worse than a woman."
"I resent that. This level of sexiness takes time, baby."
"Whatever you say, Goldilocks. You've got five minutes, and then I'm going without you."
"Yes, mom."
"Oi, I resent that." I spoke into the phone. "Five minutes, or you can use that sexiness to hitch yourself a ride, baby."

Hanging up the phone on Jericho I did one last check of the locker room for my things. My eyes trailed across my bag, more specifically the silver and pink peeking out. I felt myself smile again and the fluttering in my tummy, no matter how many times I looked at it I still couldn't stop the excitement that this was really my championship, and I couldn't wait to show it to my dad.

I tore my eyes away from the title and checked my phone. Right, five minutes were up. I should really stick to my word I thought, and abandon Jericho at the arena, but I was in a good mood. I decided I'd be nice, just this once, and drag him from his locker room myself. I lifted my bag and exited the locker room.

I had just gotten to the end of the hallway to a crossroads, so to speak, and was turning left to carry on down the west corridor that led to Jericho's room when I felt an uneasiness come over me. I had barely taken two steps in my intended direction when I had the urge to look behind me. It wasn't so much of an urge as an automatic reflex. If I'd paid better attention to my body I would have known that every fibre in me was tensed up and looking in that direction was the last thing I should have done. Fucking automatic reflexes.

As I turned my head to the right, coming down the north corridor, sleek with sweat and carrying a bottle of water, was none other than my ex. His long hair was sticking to his face but that didn't stop me from noticing his eyes glued to me as he approached. It was then that I realised he must have just come from his match, which meant that Randy wouldn't be far behind him. I needed to get as far away from this black spot as possible.

I pulled my eyes away from him and made a bee line in the opposite direction, back down the hallway I had just been in, passed my locker room and out through the exit into the parking lot. It was only when I was standing on the concrete ground that I released the breath I didn't even know I had been holding and made my way towards my rental. I opened the trunk and put in my bag, biting my thumbnail I moved towards the door.

"Shit, you weren't kidding when you said you'd leave with out me."

At the voice I jumped about three feet in the air.

"Jesus Jericho, what are you? A ninja or something?" I smacked him on the arm. "You scared the shit out of me. Don't you know you're not supposed to sneak up on people?"
"I can't help it if my ninja skills are awesome."
"Yeah well, you're lucky. I could have been holding a wheel brace."
"And why would you be holding a wheel brace?"
"Because... it's a dark parking lot and there could be creepy bastards lurking about, sneaking up on women."
"OK, armed and jumpy. Duly noted. You know I'm learning more and more about you every day."
"Ditto. Takes forever to get dressed and likes to sneak up on people. I'll add those to the list."
"You've got a list? What else does it say? I bet it says that Chris Jericho is a sexy beast." He said preening like a peacock.
"Hmm... let me check." Using my hand as pretend paper I began checking things off. "Conceited, vain, refers to himself in the third person, takes so long in the shower he is the number one cause of drought worldwide, likes to sneak up on people, oh and hideous dress sense. Nope, nothing about a sexy beast."
"I'm hurt and offended."
"I'm tired, let's go."
"Not until you tell me my shirt isn't hideous." He folded his arms across his chest and stuck out his bottom lip.
"Ok then. Bye." I smiled moving towards the driver's side again.
"Scarlett! Come on."
"Chris, if I said that it'd be a lie."
"Hey, I never said I wanted the truth."
"Fine." I huffed. "Your shirt is ravishing."
"Thank you." He replied, putting his bag in the trunk. "Now that wasn't so hard."
"I take it back, you're not like a woman. You're worse."

The pair of us got into the car and I drove towards the hotel, all the while listening to my blonde friend suddenly become Paris Hilton for the whole journey. Me and my big mouth.

We arrived at the hotel and checked in, then rode the elevator to floor 9 where my room was. Jericho insisted on walking me to my door, "it's the gentlemanly thing" he'd said. I told him I was rooming with Nattie and that I'd be fine but he insisted. I opened the door to my room and put down my bag, it was empty. Natalya must not have arrived yet.

"Well, thanks for walking me to my door. I'll make sure to add gentleman to the list, if that's what you wanted." I smiled at him in the doorway.
"I'm glad to hear it, according to your list I have a lot to make up for. And that brings me to why I actually offered to walk you."
"Oh?" I asked a little intrigued.
"Yeah, I was wondering if you... maybe... wanted to get dinner tomorrow. After Raw. You know, with me."
"Yeah, OK."
"Really?" He asked slightly higher.
"Yeah, but... let's not go for Mexican again. I don't think my poor stomach could handle another round after last time."
"Up all night with heartburn?"
"Yeah. And cramps."
"Me too. Definitely no Mexican." He smiled.
"Sounds good to me."
"OK then. It's a date. Tomorrow after Raw. Pick you up at your locker room?"
"Um, OK. Chris, you do realise I'll see you tomorrow anyway? I'm your ride to Raw." I furrowed my brow.
"Oh yeah, I forgot. So, I will see you tomorrow then."
"Til tomorrow."
"Goodnight Scarlett."
"Goodnight Chris." I smiled as I moved towards the door.

Jericho took a few steps forward and put his arms around me, giving me an impromptu hug. A bit startled from the unexpected gesture it took me a second before I returned it.

"Night." He said quietly as he disengaged himself from me and exited the room, the door closing behind him.

Well, that was strange, I thought.
He'd been acting weird since we arrived at the hotel. I couldn't put my finger on it, but he was definitely not his usual self. He seemed almost nervous, somehow.

I pondered these thoughts as I stripped down and changed into my pyjamas.

But what could Jericho be nervous about? Wrestlemania was over and he'd won his match. And then there was the whole walking me to my door thing. I hadn't even mentioned bumping into Phil in the hallway. The more I thought about it, replaying the words we exchanged in my head, the more I realised that he'd been very careful with his words. Even going so far as to stumble with them a little bit. He passed up a perfectly good opportunity to tease me over my Mexican food troubles, and didn't even attempt any fart jokes. That was definitely strange.

I climbed into bed and turned off the light. But laying there I was still trying to work out the enigma that was Chris Jericho. Even that awkward hug was out of character for him. His usual hugs were as large as his ego. He'd engulf you and then stick you in a headlock for good measure. I just couldn't figure his change in behaviour out. Well, at least I could try to suss him out when we went to dinner.

And that's when it hit me.

"Ok then. It's a date. Tomorrow after Raw."

I sat bolt upright in the bed.

Did Chris Jericho just ask me out on a date?

And did I accept?

Thanks for reading.

Mia