Over the course of the next 4 months, John tries every means of contact he can to talk to Charlie. She doesn't answer her phone, or return his texts.
He gets her email from Triple H, and she recieves them-because they don't bounce-but he doesn't know if she reads them. He has sent letters to her home, everything he can think of, short of dropping in on her or knocking on her door. He still thinks of her, but he has gotten the message. Go away. He doesn't like it, but he's going to respect her wishes.
Professionally though, he has not returned to the Bay Area. Raw will be in San Jose at the beginning of August. Maybe he'll see her there.
On Charlie's end...well, she has redefined the word "overscheduled". More work, more volunteering..she's even gone out on a few dates with guys that are more her usual type. All of this in a vain effort to forget John, which has failed utterly. She can't keep herself from watching Monday Night Raw, though-and every time John looks directly into the camera and grins that goofy lopsided grin that he has, it feels like he is looking right at her.
Nobody knows Charlie any better than Michael, her ambulance partner and best friend for the last 6 years. For a month after her return from Atlanta and Wrestlemania, he asked her daily what was up with her. She was never what anyone would term a *sweet* girl, but her comments had gone from just kinda mean to downright scathing, and fuck became her word of choice, and she used it as every part of speech. Something was WRONG. She just wouldn't talk about it until one Tuesday morning Michael finally had enough. He threatened to find a new partner. She caved. She spilled everything about everything.
"I don't see what your problem is. You haven't said a thing that sounds like he's an ass. Not like anyone you usually would be interested in, but maybe that's a good thing."
"He's touched me twice. Both times, I lost my ability to think logically and rationally. It was like my senses were being assaulted. I've never had that happen before, it's scary as fuck. I can't do that."
Michael laughed at her and looked at her incredulously. "Seriously? Dude, some people look for their entire lives and never find that. Only you would say you don't want it. At some point, you have to let go and see what happens. Losing control is not always a bad idea."
"Do you honestly see me as the kind of girl who dates guys who go to the gym constantly, makes his living flexing his muscles and fake wrestling on tv?"
"Wow. I'm kind of surprised at you. You're making a huge assumption that's all there is to the guy. You'd be pissed as hell at anyone who thought you were one trick pony like that. All anyone ever sees of you is your whole goody two shoes supergirl act. I spend 48 hours a week in close quarters with you, and it took me a year before I figured out anything different about you."
"So I don't like to cross contaminate my life and I keep the aspects separate so no one knows too much. Sue me."
"Uh-huh. Did you get your summer schedule for the concert season? Raw will be in San Jose the second Monday."
"I saw. Not going. Change the subject please."
Michael sighed, and did as she asked..but he had something spinning in that brain of his that he wasn't about to tell her.
.
.
Charlie was LATE. She hated being late. Her co-worker, scheduled to be the supervisor at the Shark Tank had been injured the prior evening and so there she was, against her better judgement, heading into the arena for Raw. She clipped her ID onto her shirt and ran in the front door, and found that the doors into the seating area weren't unlocked yet. After finding someone with a key, Charlie ran down the stairs, greeting each usher. Onto the floor, she ran around the ring and down the aisle, only to be blocked by a member of arena security who was new and didn't know who she was.
Fortunately, Triple H was coming out to the floor, and assured the man that Charlie was who she said she was. She thanked him quickly, ran to the office and shut the door so she could get everyone equipped and sent to their stations.
Trips spotted John in a hallway, talking to CM Punk about their match that night. "Hey Cena. Guess who's here?"
John looked up. "Hey Paul, who's here? What are you talking about."
Paul grinned. "Blonde, looks great in navy blue, good with a band-aid? Ringing any bells?"
John had done his best to keep himself busy and not think about what city he was in, but he couldn't help but smile.
Punk shook his head and laughed. "Man, you do have it bad-and she won't even talk to you. Fine, go see her. Just have your head in the game later, I don't have time for another injury."
John tried to jog casually in the direction of the first aid office. He peeked in. There she was..and he had no idea what to say. Fortunately, she saw him too, and she spoke first.
"I was wondering if I'd see you tonight. Do you have time to talk?"
"I have a couple of backstage shots to do and I'm in the main event. I want to talk, but I don't want to get in the middle of it and then have to go do something, especially before my match. If all I'm thinking about is you, I won't be thinking about the math."
Charlie frowned. "Math?"
John nodded. "I have to use the area of the ring, and figure out just how much energy to put into each move, so it looks believable to the audience and I don't oversell anything and most importantly, so I don't hurt Punk. It's all happening really fast out there and I have to be on top of it the whole time. I can't think about that and you."
"I had no idea."
He shrugged. "It's not like we just get in there and pretend to fight. Well, some guys do, but they don't last long. They either get hurt, or no one will work with them so they lose their roster spot."
"Well, I'm still last one out, so if you want to, come back after?"
"I'll be here...Miss Charlotte."
"I told you what happens to people who call me that without permission."
"We'd tangle, I remember. Maybe I want to tangle with you. It kinda sounds fun." He winked at her and left.