A/N:

okay, this chapter answers a lot of questions. like:

who is Cena's girlfriend?

why was Jeff in Boston?

what the hell does Jeff Hardy have to do with this story?

(if you haven't noticed, i like making lists of things!) well now that that's said and done, here's chapter six! i hope you guys like it!

Ruby

Chapter Six

Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same. Sometimes not. In this case, it was, but that doesn't mean I have to do it.

I was sitting in the airport, casually glancing at the flight schedule, waiting for Cena to come back from where-ever the hell he was. I decided, even though I discovered I liked flying by myself, I'd avoid another mishap by going with my usual companion. I had no idea what I was going to be doing this week, or even if I was going to be on air at all. Not only that, but all week I was plagued with the horror of that plane ride. I had no idea where most of those feelings came from, but I was very reluctant for them to return.

There's only so many marbles in this world, and I only have so many. I don't think I can afford to lose anymore is what I'm getting at.

I was sitting in no particular way. Nothing about me said, HEY! Look at me!. My legs were crossed, my arms were crossed, and my foot was bobbing. I know it's lame, but I was so bored I was even humming the music that was coming from a nearby elevator. But that's not the point of my earlier statement.

My earlier statement applies to what happened next. Cena came back from God knows where. He handed me a cup of lukewarm, mediocre coffee that faintly smelled like sewer water and sat beside me, putting his arm in it's normal place around the crook in my neck. "Couple more minutes," he sighed, sipping his own sewer water.

I thought all was normal. Little did I know of, oh, how wrong I was! We sat like that for several moments, until Cena took his arm back and leaned forward onto his knees. "What?" I asked, not sure I really wanted an answer.

"Guess who's contract expired last week?"

Fear glazed over my eyes. "Whose?"

That's when I first caught sight of the blonde bitch. All five foot ten, one hundred twenty-two pounds of pure Florida bullshit. Michelle McCool. "Are you fucking kidding me!?" I jumped up, ready to walk out. I remembered the reason I was at the airport as well as the fact that I couldn't miss this flight.

That's when the inner battle first commenced. True, she was Cena's girlfriend and I couldn't change that. True, that I if I ever really thought I cared for Cena as my best friend I would step up, push away my own personal demons, and be civil. Screw civil.

"Ace, stop. You don't know her."

The look I gave him was so fierce that I could feel the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Then I looked at her, who tried to avoid my gaze. "I'm sorry, but Michelle McCool should be wearing a sign that says 'I'm a slut, ask me and I'll show you how!'. You deserve better than that. And yes! I do know her! I know her as the skanky ass little twit who can't seem to give me five minutes alone with you!" Jealousy rears it's ugly head once more! Usually not with me... but what can you do?

She pretended that she didn't hear me, and I was kind of glad she did. If she would have said something, I might have felt bad. Might have. I'm not sure yet. She mouthed a 'hi' to her boyfriend, as she handed him one of her handbags. He placed them on the seat next to him and kissed her as she sat on the opposite side. My mediocre coffee was about to become mediocre vomit.

"Oh, please." I mumbled, moving all the way down the side of the bench. No way was I sitting next to that!

Cena has been my best friend since we were five. He's had several girlfriends before this, most of them were ho-bags who just wanted to state that they were actually dating him. I was never jealous of them. Never. I didn't think it would be necessary to have such a useless emotion for such pathetic excuses for the female gender. Cena and I seemed to become more and more alike as time passed, but I couldn't figure this one out. For the life of me, I wish I could understand.

The flight was completely uncomfortable. I took the aisle seat, while the two lovebirds occupied the middle and window seat. The design for this was easy enough to figure out: if they started making out, like they would after whispering and giggling to each other (shoot me!), I had an easy escape route.

I was slouching in my seat, thinking of ways I could make her disappear without having to develop superpowers withing the next couple minutes when I noticed Jeff sitting a couple seats in front of mine. Actually, I hoped it was him more than I actually knew. The only way to be sure was to grow some balls (metaphorically, of course) and walk up there. I did, but not before I took a deep breath and braced myself.

It was him, bobbing his head to music like the last time I saw him. This time, unfortunate for me, there was no air guitar in sight. I made a bold move and plucked one of the headphones from his ear. "Mind if I join you?"He smiled, shaking his head and moving over. I sat down, smiled back. "So,... I thought you lived in North Carolina. What are you doing in Boston?"

Jeff laughed, pulling the remaining headphone from his opposite ear. "I do. I had a sculpture being introduced at a art gallery in Boston."

"A sculpture?" I didn't know anything about this guy, except for his name and that he was extremely random, but this intrigued me. To think that this guy, a kid who takes the most risks of us all (in the WWE, I mean), is an artist.

"Yeah. Hobby."

"Uh-huh." I was smiling uncontrollably at this point. Not because it was funny, but because this was clearly making him feel as uncomfortable as I was at our first meeting. "Go on."

"I do abstract stuff. Mostly sculptures."

"And... come on. I hid under a blanket a few days ago. I think you can tell me about something that you're obviously good at." My hand went to my chin as I gave him my full attention. "What do said sculptures consist of? Because it seems to me, that someone like you would be quite far from the norm. And that's not a bad thing."

"The one that was being shown was made out of tinfoil and paint. Mostly." His cheeks went from a faint pale to rosy red within seconds. "Okay. I don't want to talk about that. You, miss Acelynn," I took a moment to tune out an appreciate that he remembered my name, "have intruded upon my territory. What do you have to say to that?"

"Ahh. Easy question. See, there's my best friend back there who goes by the name of John Cena."

"Name rings a bell," He kidded, regaining his composure.

"Yeah, well his little... thing... is back there with him and it makes me sick to my stomach."

"Would I know this thing?"

"Michelle McWhore. Fresh from Smackdown with a new, certain something to give to Raw. Most likely a STD."

He rolled his eyes as his smile curved deeper. "Again. Name. Bell." He repositioned himself so that he was facing me, giving me the attention I had given him earlier. "Go on."

Unaware that I was doing so, I found myself telling him everything. Everything from how me and Cena met, to how we remained friends all though our grade school/college years, to how supportive I was when he told me he wanted to be a wrestler, to how he helped me get a meeting with Mr. McMahon. Everything. Including how he met the ho-bag in the process. "Sounds like grade 'A' jealousy." He stated bluntly, turning towards the window.

"That makes me feel loads better." I rolled me eyes, finding myself twisting away from him too. "I already knew that! What I don't know is why." I suddenly found myself liking him less.

"You want my advice?" I nodded, staring at my lap. "You sure?" I nodded once more, regretting it more the more he asked. He leaned over, grabbing my chin between his forefinger and thumb, then gently placed his lips on mine.

I was shocked. In horror! This was something I could definitely not describe. My hands grapple from his chest as I pushed him away, sending him flying towards the window. I looked at him, ever muscle in my face completely rigid. My gaze only lasted for a few seconds as my eyes darted around the seats for Cena.

He didn't even notice.

He was staring into the eyes of McWhore, deeply in conversation about something. It felt horrible seeing him look at her like that. "What the hell was that!?" I whispered a yell.

"You said you wanted my opinion."

"Yeah, your opinion. Not your tongue."

"Well I needed to conduct an experiment to achieve the perfect opinion."

"And... get on with it Dr. Phil." My gaze never left my best friend.

"You love him."

I slapped him. Hard. I didn't mean to, but it was pure instinct. "That's ridiculous!"

But was it really? In that moment I realized why I harbored such lavished amount of hatred for this girl. I wanted what she had. I was in love with my best friend, and it took a virtually complete stranger to kiss me for me to even realize it.