another chapter. it starts the countdown to the pay-per-view (which i haven't named because of confusion issuses). the NEXT chapter is going to be the pay-per-view, skipping the week before (which i have omnitted because of length issuses.) then chapter one will come back in with some edited areas.

sorry this chapter took longer than usual. i was trying to make it longer, at the request of a few of my readers, and i just ended up being reptative so i started over from scratch. hope it's at least a little longer.

here it is!

Ruby

Chapter Fourteen

Matt and Jack (from chapter two) stood outside Cena' locker room, fitting me with a microphone and preparing for the upcoming scene. "We got a good ten minutes," Matt smiled, hooking the microphone battery to the back of my skirt.

"Don't smile like that, Matty. It's creepy." I laughed, tugging at the hemline of my crop top. Cena came into the hall in nothing but a towel and sopping wet. "What's all this about?"

"Walter changed the scene to make it more scandalous. Now you're going to be in the locker room with me when Michelle comes in. I pull you in to the bathroom just as she comes in, then she bangs on the door and...well...you know." he grabbed my hand and split his fingers in between mine to keep me from pulling at my shirt. "Stop pullin' at it. You look fine."

"I don't care about how I look." I snapped. I never used to, and I was sure that that statement was semi-true. Even if I did care, it was only because my father watches the show, and ever since this whole escapade started I've been given depleting amounts of material to wear.

"Michelle's coming from make-up." Jack reported, lifting his camera.

The red light on his camera began to flicker until it became solid. The illusion had begun.

Cena pulled me into his chest, gripping my shoulders and pulling me upwards so I had to stand on my tip-toes. My fingers ran across the hemline of the towel around his waist, rubbing as far down as I could without getting the WWE in trouble with the FCC. Really, I was playing with the belt-loops of his jeans underneath, but the audience couldn't see that. His forehead touched mine, the water dripping from his earlier "shower" saturating my hairline and making the small pieces of my face-frame (see note) stick to my cheeks. His hands ran down the length of my arms until they locked with my own.

He kissed me, but it was only a t.v. kiss. A kiss for entertainment purposes. It was tender, cute, with just the right amount of suction so that my lips smacked when he parted his lips. Nothing special.

Ad my hands joined behind his head, and his forearms were pressing against the small of my back, the handle to the locker room began to jiggle. Cena swept me off my feet and into the steamy bathroom just as McWhore passed through the threshold.

There were a couple seconds where Cena and I just laughed inside the bathroom, our hands over out mouths to stifle the noise. Our "serious" faces returned as McWhore, followed by Jack, stormed through the door just in time to see me unravel Cena's towel as he stepped into the running shower.

She yelled, I yelled, Cena "covered up" again. She slapped me, I slapped her harder, Cena tried to break it up. The camera shut off just after she and I both had fistfuls of each other's hair. Cena was pulling McWhore by the waist as three officials stood in my way and pushed me back out into the locker room.

The red light started blinking again until it faded out.

Cena dropped McWhore the shuffled to move passed her. She put her hand in his face. "Can we talk?" She asked, trying not to sound as pathetic as that statement assumed. She looked innocent enough, except for the fact that her horns were showing. She barked an, "ALONE," as she looked in my direction.

Cena started shaking his head as he walked over to my side. "No, it's okay," I sighed, heading towards the door. My hand reached the handle, but my mouth didn't want to leave. "I have something to say first, though. I never realized exactly why I hated you so much before, but now I think I do. I thought it was the jealousy on my part, and while some, if not most, of it was, there's something else. I hate that you're jealous. I mean, you have no right to be. I've known Johnny since I was five. FIVE. I grew up with him. I went to school him. In college, I talked to him two or three times a day. Me and him,... we're as close as you get. (ex) Girlfriend or not, you have no right to be jealous of that. And that's why I hate you. And you hate me. I hate that you call every five seconds, I hate that ruined my time with him, and I hate that he wasted his time on you, although I can't speak for him."

"Are you done?" She snapped, folding her arms and tapping her foot. Her body language said everything that needed to be said on her part.

"No. One last thing. I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry, but not for what you may be thinking. I'm sorry that things turned out this way. I'm sorry...that you think I wronged you. But mostly, I'm sorry because I don't think I did." With all that finally said, I left the room.

Cena followed me out into the hallway. "Thank you," he whispered, smiling and laughing.

"I just told her that I hated her because of her personality and that I didn't do anything wrong when I stole her boyfriend from her. What's there to thank me about?"

"Because you meant it. The words may have been a little harsh around the edges, but the whole thing was a form of closure. Not only for yourself, but for her and me, too. Closure all around. Good thing. Good thing." He paused, then turned to go talk to his ex. "Oh, and you didn't name call. Also a good thing."

I nodded, not being able to hold back the giggle that was coming from my vocal cords. "Yeah. A hard, but good thing."

- - - - - - -

My flight wasn't until the wee hours of the next morning (Wednesday), so the plan was to continue my training. Well, that was my plan. Cena's plan had changed along the course of the day, much to my surprise.

"What do you mean you're not going to be there?" I stomped.

He tried to calm me by placing his hands on either side of my neck and rubbing the soft spot of my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. "Something came up. I'm sorry, but I can't get out of it."

"What am I supposed to do without a coach? Two weeks, JC. TWO! FUCKING! WEEKS!"

"Okay...okay..." He leaned in, kissing a spot on my neck between his fingers. He knew I couldn't resist when he kissed me there. "Do you really think I'd leave you hanging like that? Especially when my contract is on the line, too?"

"Then what?"

"Just go to the gym tonight. I have to catch a earlier flight, and I'll meet you at your place tomorrow afternoon. Okay?"

- - - - - -

I did as I was told, which was kind of odd in a way. At the request of some of the WWE superstars, the local, bigger, gym set up a replica of the ring somewhere in the remote corners of their backrooms. Usually the rings weren't up to scale, and consisted of nothing more than a few mats and ropes, but it was better than nothing. I stood in the middled of that "ring," stretching and waiting for my temporary coach. Guess who walked in?

"I'm going to get a freakin' restraining against you!" I laughed, as Jeff Hardy walked into the room pulling his hair up. "Let me guess, you "overheard"?"

"Actually, Cena asked me. But if you want to believe that I'm so coincidental then go ahead." He laughed back, moving from his hair to lacing his boots. "Okay, given that me and Cena have two different styles, I asked for some help from some friends." With that said, Torrie Wilson (with Chloe under arm), Maria, and Mickie James gathered around.

NOTE: when i say "face frame" i mean layers of hair gradually getting smaller as they reach the tip of the forehead. they're too short to be called "bangs", so i use this term. i have them, and that's what i call them...well...beacuse they frame my face.