Charlie stood in front of the door to room 1410-nervous, an unfamiliar feeling for her, but she put on her game face, took a breath and knocked on the door.

John opened immediately. "I wondered how long you were going to stand there."

"Well aren't you a smarty-boots. I said I'd be here."

"Can I hug you? From the front this time, I mean. Don't hurt me."

"Tell me now, am I ever going to live that down?"

"Probably not. C'mere." He folded her into his arms and put his chin on her head, murmuring, "what am I gonna do about you, hmm?"

She pulled her head back and looked up at him. "DO about me? In what way?"

They stepped apart and John said "Okay, I think talking is first."

Charlie nodded. "Me first, though."

"Ok. You first."

"I feel like I should start this with Once Upon a Time. I was always the girl that the dumb jocks played up to in school to get homework or to tutor them for the test-and they'd even try and have sex with me, because they were used to just getting whatever they wanted. No one ever stepped out of line, I'm not saying anyone forced themselves on me, but they'd have to be told no several times.

I was never asked out by any of them, I wasn't a cheerleader or popular-I was one of the smart kids. In my junior year, I overheard a bunch of the football team 'rating'the girls in school. I was about to leave, when they said my name-then I had to stay. One of the guys that I actually thought I was friends with, said 'I'd fuck her, but I wouldn't kiss her.' Then the bunch of them laughed like they'd never heard anything funnier in their lives. I left. I was mortified. To cut to the chase and make what could be a very long story a little shorter, I have judged all athletes with the same attitude as I felt then. They're all jackasses who talk shit about you behind your back and are the superhero, good guy, with a flawless public persona. No one's ever bothered to try to break that wall down til you did, and I refused to let you. All I saw was the man, the image, the creation. When you were different at my house, and then the next day I saw you had turned the whole magic personality on again, I just decided I wasn't going to be taken advantage of again by anyone claiming to want to get to know me. Hell, I have no idea why Paul thought it'd be good for us to meet. Anyway, I was wrong, and I have felt terribly about it for awhile."

John was mad. Not at her, for her. While he indulged in some similar behavior as a teen and knew guys that did even now, he never did it where the target of the discussion could hear it. Partly to save his own butt but partly because he didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings.

"Damn. That sucks. Let me start by saying apology accepted, and if I had had any idea, I wouldn't have been so direct with you, or more likely, I would have explained how I go from 'John Cena, Superstar' to John, regular guy from Massachusetts...because there is a process to it. As for how Paul got the idea, I've been a medicine nerd forever. I have always wanted to have someone to talk to about it that wasn't going to talk above me or intimidate me about it. Paul said a few years ago that if he knew how to find the girl who squared him away and told him jokes in the ambulance, she'd be a good choice. When he told me that girl was in the first aid room that night, it was all I could do not to run down there an introduce myself. Now that we've gotten some of the missing parts filled in, let me tell you what you have done to my life."

Charlie opened her mouth to object that she hadn't said anything to anyone or done anything, but before she could, John put his finger to her lips. "Shh. Still my turn."

I think about you every damn day. Some days, to the point of distraction. Don't ask me why, because I don't know why-as you correctly pointed out, I barely know you. Something happened to me. Before I met you, I would hang out with the girls who were around the shows, I didn't sleep with them, but their adoration made my ego feel good, some evenings I needed that. Now when they talk, all I hear is the vapid idiotic drivel that falls out of their mouths, and all I can think of is stroganoff, german shepherds, and RuPaul...and the woman who connects all of them in my head. It's totally fucked up, and I blame you."

She smiled at the memory. "I accept full responsibility for that odd combination of things. I'd be happy to talk medicine with you, anytime. I'm a dinosaur in terms of what I do, there's a lot of random medicine stuck up in this brain. I can tell you what's going on here as far as we're concerned though. You want to talk science and medicine? We have chemistry, a fact I missed entirely until it was pointed out to me by a nurse at Children's. I thought she was being silly, til I went home and thought about my physical reaction to you"

"You have a physical reaction? I rule."

"I'd explain it, but Tina Turner did a wonderful job of it already. Go listen to "What's Love Got To Do With It", from 83 or so. Anyway, that's all it is. No big."

He laughed. "I see. Back to your earlier remark, you're no dinosaur? No no. Vickie is a dinosaur. I know how old you are, and I couldn't care less. I have been completely unable to get you out of my head. You basically told me to go away, and I genuinely tried to. I've had your number this whole time and even though you said I could keep in touch, I was pretty sure you didn't mean it. I had no idea what I was going to do. I do now, though."

Charlie arched a brow. "What's that?"

John had been pacing the room while he was talking, but had stopped right in front of where she sat on the couch of his suite. He sat down next to her, took her face in his hands and looked at her.

"I wasn't sure I'd ever get here."

Charlie, who still had problems with serious moments, looked into his face...and crossed her eyes.

He was caught off guard and laughed at her. Then all at once, he said "Fuck it.", and kissed her, as he'd thought about a thousand times.

Charlie, who had up to this point, been inwardly proud of how cool, calm and collected she was being...completely freaked out. Her skin broke into a fine sheen of perspiration, her heart was pounding in her chest and everything around her looked and sounded like it was under water.
She put her hands on his chest and pushed him away.

She stood and said "I gotta go." and ran out the door and into the stairwell, before John could say a thing.

He sat there a few minutes, trying to figure out if he'd missed a signal or done something stupid. He sat back on the couch and took out his phone and opened the Spotify mobile app and typed in "What's Love Got To Do With It". He listened as the song began, and turned it up so he could hear the lyrics.

"You must understand, though the touch of your hand makes me pulse react..
It's only the thrill of boy meeting girl, opposites attract.. it's physical...only logical.
You must try to ignore that it means more that.
What's love got to do, got to with it? What's love, just a second hand emotion."

John looked toward the door. "I beg to differ. I'm going to figure you out, I promise you that."