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A/N: Hey all! Thanks for reviewing! We appreciate it! Here's chapter two! This one's in Punk's POV. We're going to have every other chapter in his POV.

Secrets Don't Make Friends by Madame Morrison, Shelliosity and Cara Mascara

Chapter 2: To Call or Not to Call

"You're starting to look pathetic." The voice of Scott Colton, or Colt as most people call him, made me look away from the pool game I was concentrating on.

"Huh?"

"Stop gawking at that chick." Okay. So maybe it wasn't the actual game I was so interested in, but more one of the players. I chuckled, a little embarrassed at my lack of stealth when it came to checking girls out. But she's a hot chick. I can't really help it. And I doubt I'm the only guy here doing it. Blonde, good body, tattooed, nice face. Sure a few parts of her look a little surgically enhanced, but hey, it doesn't look bad.

"Know her?" I asked. Colt's around this place a lot more often than I am.

"Nah. I see her here a lot but I don't know anything about her except she wins at pool all the time and her names Zelda or something weird like that."

"It's Zandra actually. Girl's a regular pool shark. I can't remember a time when she's lost," the bartender said from in front of us, cleaning out a glass. I glanced over my shoulder at the girl again as she collected money from her opponent.

"Yeah? I think I'll play a game," I said and stood up form the bar stool, finishing off my Pepsi before I went over there.

The bartender chuckled and shook his head. "Your funeral dude." I shrugged and left Colt at the bar just as she asked for a new opponent.

"Who's next?" I stepped up and smiled at her, chalking a cue I'd picked out. I'm not too shabby at pool myself. I'm interested in testing this girl's skills. She smiled softly at me and her friend came up behind her and whispered something. Then they both eyed me and the friend whispered something else. Hey... they're talking about me. I got a little self-conscious, I won't lie. Both girls are on the pretty damn hot side. "You got a name?" Zandra asked.

"Phil. But I answer to Punk too."

"Zandra." Yeah I know. I was totally grilling you and fishing for info over at the bar. You don't know that though. I took her offered hand. Soft skin. Nice.

"So, what're the stakes?" I asked. She glanced back at her friend who smirked. Why do I have a feeling I'm being set up?

"How much you got?" Damn, this girl doesn't play around.

I chuckled a little at the idea of putting down all my money. That's a bit of a risk. I'm definitely not going to let this chick hustle me. "Two hundred." I'm confident in my pool skills. I play as often as I can. I think I can give her a run for her money.

She tossed a pile of crumpled bills onto the table. "Two hundred it is then." I raised my eyebrows and her friend collected it. I swear if I get cheated... "You wanna break?"

"Ladies first." Hey, I'm a damn gentleman. She sunk two solids. "You know, they warned me about you," I told her and nodded over to Colt and the bartender who were watching with interest. "Said you hustle dudes for money all the time."

She shrugged her shoulders and had a little bit of a proud look on her face. "Hey, the guys that come here should know better by now. I don't play around but they keep trying to beat me. You probably should've listened to them." I took my shot and sunk two stripes in. She looked a impressed and surprised.

"I don't know, I think we're evenly matched."

"I can't believe he beat you." I hear Zandra's friend hiss. They both looked completely shocked. Yeah, I won.

"Just give him the fuckin' money," Zandra snapped at her friend. She looked really stressed about losing her money. Her friend handed me the cash and I felt bad. I'm not exactly in financial trouble or anything here.

"Hey, here, " I called to Zandra before she walked away. I offered her the money back. For all I know, this is the girl's only job. I only played her for fun. I don't really care about the money.

She put her hands up. "You won it fair and square." Damn it, just take the mon- whoa. I just got a brilliant idea.

"Well, what if I wanna change the bet? Keep your money and since I beat you... you can give me your number." Her friend burst into laughter behind us and I frowned. Oh man, she's a lesbian, isn't she? I still offered her my phone though. God, I'm going to feel like a retard if she's a lesbian. She took it though. Phew. She added what was hopefully her real number and gave me my phone back.

"C'ya." Wow. She's giving me 'fuck me' eyes. Sweet! I went over to Colt again and she rushed over to her friend. I grinned at Scott and he raised his eyebrows.

"I can't believe you beat her," he told me.

"Who cares if I beat her. I got her number." I think I'll call her when I get back later in the week. I have to go on the road for a few days and I leave tomorrow morning. But wait, maybe I should call her tomorrow and just make plans for when I get back so she doesn't think I blew her off. Or I'm an asshole. But if I call her right away, I might seem desperate. Which I'm not. But she doesn't know that. I don't think she knows who I am. She didn't seem to recognize me.

Shit girls are confusing.

Sitting in the back seat of Matt's car, I listened to Shannon and Jeff talk on about their upcoming Hardy Show episode. The next WWE show wouldn't be taking place in Illinois, which kind of sucks considering I really don't get to spend as much time home as I would like.

I had the Hardy's and the Reject stay at my apartment instead of bunking in a small hotel room for about seventy-five dollars a night and so for a thank you, they invited me to tag a long in their drive. Which isn't bad really. The company is always good when you're on the road as much as we are when it comes to a line of business such as this.

Pearl Jam circled its way throughout the car from the stereo as the drive commenced and although it's not really what I'm into, I'm not going to complain. These guys are doing me a favor, plus we switch off when one of us gets tired and that means the driver can play whatever he wants.

I lay my head against the cushion of the seat and closed my eyes. Maybe if I try hard enough I can drown out the music and Shannon's big mouth.

"Didn't get much sleep last night huh, Punk?" Shannon says.

Or not.

"Not really," I replied, opening my eyes again.

"Up late looking at Internet porn?" he chuckled.

So not funny.

"Just couldn't sleep."

"Man, you've got to stop looking at that stuff, its so bad for you," Shannon continued on.

My head turned and I stared at him. "I'd get some sleep if you'd stop snoring." Jeff burst out in laughter, not even able to finish what he was telling Matt.

"Looks like he told you, Shan," Matt commented in between giggles.

"I don't snore," Shannon pouted.

"How would you know, dude? You're asleep when you're doin' it!" Jeff came into the conversation, looking at the two of us from over the front passenger side seat.

"Whatever, bro," Shannon mumbled.

"Aw Shan, don't get you panties in a bunch 'cause he beat ya at your own game, man. Punk's just playin', dude," Matt said, his eyes looked over at the Reject, who slumped in his corner all pissed off.

And if I wasn't?

Don't get me wrong Shannon's cool and all, but sometimes he can just get a little bit annoying when he goes over the edge with his little jokes and what not.

"Jeez, Shan don't be such a drama queen," Jeff remarked.

Shannon leaned into Jeff's seat and landed a punch on his right arm. "At least I don't look like a walking coloring book."

"Children don't make me turn this car around!" Matt jumped in, trying to act like a parental figure. It would have been convincing, if he weren't laughing.

I don't think he would want to anyway; Matt ran three stop signs before and I swear I heard police sirens after us moments ago.

Let's just hope I get out of this drive alive.

After making it to our destination without getting pulled over or badly injured, I met up with Maria, my ex girlfriend. As I sat in the bar and chugged down some Pepsi, she came up behind me grabbed the Cubs cap right off my head and placed it on her own. Maria made herself comfortable on the stool next to mine, taking over my mug too.

"So, why are you so happy all of the sudden?" she asked.

"Nothing, why?" I respond.

"Because you just seem so unbelievably happy for someone who is nocturnal," she explained.

"It's nothing, Ria." She roles her eyes, picks my Sidekick up off the counter and flips it open to play with it. "What are you doing."

"Well, funny story," she started. "I was coming here with Ashley and while I was trying to put my cell phone down and also keeping my eyes on the road at the same time…" She paused for a second while looking through my phone. "…I accidentally dropped it in Mickie's coffee." I couldn't help but laugh.

Could she really be serious?

Maria looked up with a bit of a smile and a low chuckle. "The good thing is, my phone has insurance, so I sent out for a brand new one last night and had it delivered this morning." She smiled.

"Okay, so why must you play with mine?" I asked.

"Because I dropped my phone coffee. It kind of won't turn on anymore, so I need to borrow yours and copy all of the numbers," she explained.

"Why can't you ask Lisa or Ashley if you could borrow theirs?"

"They don't want me to drop theirs in a puddle or the toilet or any wet place since the coffee incident. They won't even let me play with theirs."

Can't say I blame them for not letting her? I moved my Pepsi mug closer to me, thankfully unnoticed by Maria.

"You and me know all of the same people," Ria continued. "So it just works out better that way."

She grabbed a napkin and a pen, sat my phone down on the counter again and began to start copying any of the numbers that she recognized. Her expression changed as she came to the last part of the list and Maria looked at me with an arched eyebrow. "Who's Zandra?"

"She's just a girl I met." I wonder if I should even tell Maria that much, I don't want her to go all crazy on me with this twenty questions thing she always seems to pull.

"Is she pretty?" She pondered. "Do you like her?"

Well, too late for that.

"I--" She cuts me off.

"Is she a new diva or something?"

"No. She's a girl I met last night while I was playing pool with Colt."

"So do you like her?" Ria asks.

"I don't know. I mean, I just met her." I respond. "Look, I've got to go. I have things I need to do before the show tonight." I got up and Maria handed me my cell phone as I replaced my Cubs cap back onto my head.

"I'll talk to you later," she called after me.

To call or not to call.

That is the question.

On one hand, I don't want to seem needy or desperate, because I'm not. Trust me, I have girls throwing themselves at me on a daily basis. But I'd like to start dating outside of wrestlers and the fanbase. But on the other hand...

... she was very attractive. Sure, she's had a few things surgically altered but that's never stopped me before. Who doesn't want to go out with a hot girl who can play a mean game of pool and actually had a drink absent from her hand in a bar. Yeah, I noticed.

I'm calling.

One ring, two rings, three rings, four rings. Shit. She isn't going to pick- "Hello?"

I cleared my throat. "Hey, um, this is Phil... from the-"

"I remember. I've been waiting for a call. What's up?' My body relaxed when I heard her voice. She actually sounded kind of excited that I called. Maybe it's just me being dumb...

"Nothing, nothing. I just got back from Canada."

I like the way her laugh made the phone buzz and vibrate against my ear. It tickled. "What the hell were you doing in Canada?"

Ah, the moment of truth. "I work for the WWE. I'm a wrestler and we were touring Canada."

"Ooh, yeah. That must be fun, hmm?"

"Yeah, I can't imagine doing anything else with my life."

"That's awesome that you're so passionate about it." Wow, a girl who clearly isn't a wrestling fan didn't say 'But isn't it fake?' when I told them about it.

"Yeah. So, what do you do?"

"Oh, me? I'ma... waitress. I waitress at a Country Club."

"Yeah? Must be pretty snazzy."

"Yeah, you could say that. Good tips. Lots of big spenders."

"Nice, so uh, how old are you?"

"You want the 4-1-1? I'm surprised you didn't get it at the bar. Name; Zandra Halliwell, yes, by birth. Age; twenty-one. I've lived in Chicago my whole life. I ran away from home when I was seventeen. Art school reject. My boobs, hair, lips and hair are fake. Don't want to take you by surprise or anything." She giggled at the end of her bio.

Wow, I'm a little taken aback. That was blunt.

"So, your turn."

"Heh, okay. Phil Books, twenty nine, born and raised in Chicago, been wrestling for more than ten years and I don't drink, smoke or do dugs."

"Really? Me neither... never have." Her voice got a lot softer now.

Score.

"I was calling to see if you wanted to get together some time in the next few days. I go back on the road on the eleventh, but I'll be around till then."

"Yeah. Yeah, let me check my work schedule." Some papers shuffled around in the background while I waited patiently. "I'm free tomorrow night. Say, eightish?"

"Perfect."