I guess I knew from the beginning that he would be both the best and worst thing to happen to me. The best because of how he made me feel but the worst because of how we hid it from the very start.

Knocking on the door woke me the morning after his first searing kiss. When I cracked an eye open to see the time, I realized how early it was and I groaned. We didn't have anything to do today and I wanted to sleep. Thinking it was housekeeping, I yelled something along the lines of 'go away' but the knocking continued and when I finally pulled myself from bed and yanked the door open, I was met with his fully awake and smiling face. He held up two cups of coffee and I stepped aside for him to come in. As I passed a nearby hanging mirror I did a double take and quickly fixed my hair before he could turn back around and get a good look at me. "It's super early, you woke me up," I told him, sitting on the edge of my unmade bed.

"I couldn't sleep. I just kept thinking about last night and I wanted to talk to you. I tried to kill some time by getting coffee," he offered, holding a cup out for me which I took with a small smile. I took a sip of the coffee and smiled a little wider, it was just how I liked it. Of course he knew how I liked my coffee.

"You wanted to talk to me about what?" I asked, knowing full well what he wanted to discuss. He wanted to talk about last night's proposal. He knew I knew, or at least the look he was giving me said so.

"I was serious. I think we should date. We get along so well, we have such a great time together. I think we can do so much more…"

"I can't date you," I cut him off, looking at him sadly because the idea of being with him actually seemed appealing to me. But we couldn't, we just couldn't. I would be risking far too much as far as my career went and I just couldn't risk that, not again.

"Why not? Give me one good reason," he challenged me. His expression was a sad determination.

"My career, for one. I don't want people to think I got where I am because I slept with you."

"Newsflash, people already think that. And being scared isn't a good reason, either, try again."

"Well maybe I just don't like you," I said with a shrug. It felt like he had me cornered.

That dimpled grin grew on his face. "Well I know that's a lie," he said with humor in his voice. He knew he was winning.

"Well how would this even work? We already spend so much time together, how different could it be?" I asked even though I knew the answer. He wanted more, he wanted intimacy. I wasn't so sure I was ready to offer that.

"Dates?" he asked with a shrug of his shoulders. "Sleepovers?" he teased, grinning at me in such a boyish way that it was hard not to jump up and pounce him.

I shook my head back and forth, holding my hand up to stop his suggestions. "No dates. No one can see us, people will talk."

"Why do you care so much about people talking if what you're doing makes you happy?" He made a good point. What did it matter if I was happy and for some reason I knew he could make me happy. But still that nagging instinct to protect myself was overwhelming.

I shook my head slowly. "No public dates," I told him.

"So then we can have private dates?" he asked, perking up.

I looked down at my cup of coffee and took another drink from it before I shrugged. "Ok, private dates are allowed."

If it was possible the grin on his face widened and he held out his hand to me. "Give me your coffee."

"What? No, I'm drinking it."

"Give it to me."

"Why?"

"Cause I'm about to tackle you to the bed and don't wanna spill hot coffee on you," he said with a laugh in his sweet voice. I bit my lip and slowly extended my hand holding the coffee to him. He took it and set it on the table nearby as well as his own before he quickly tackled me to the bed, kissing my neck and tickling my sides so I squirmed underneath him. He eventually stopped his assault and I was left panting to catch my breath, but grinning. His face was just inches above mine and I could feel his breath on my face seconds before his lips met mine and sparks filled the room. My hand touched his cheek and I kissed him back, falling head over heels instantly as I gave into the moment.


I had been looking for him backstage on the eve of our demise after receiving some good news that my storyline was moving towards a title shot in the near future. Apparently the higher ups had received some good feedback about my image, ratings were up during my segments, and they were hungry for more. And I was ready to give it.

I didn't dare ask anyone if they had seen him, I knew what sort of talk that would cause, so I just wandered around backstage looking for him. I thought I heard that beautiful laugh of his down a hallways and when I followed it and turned a corner I saw them together. I quickly pulled back, peeking around the corner as he laughed again at something she said, grinning at her like she was something special, like she was me.

I watched as his hand lifted and his fingertips touched her cheek. My own hand went to my cheek, to the same place he had touched that very morning as he was trying to win me over as I was trying to ice him out. My fingertips felt cold on my skin, not warm like his had been.

My mind started to daydream about that morning when suddenly I was jolted back to reality by what my eyes were seeing. Their lips were on each other, they were kissing. Her hands were on either side of his head and they were going at it in the open hallway where anyone could see them.

I staggered back from the wall, shocked at what I had just seen. Just this morning he was saying that he loved me, at least my laugh, and now he was kissing some random Diva backstage for all to see?

My mind was reeling. People were talking to me as I passed them in the hall but I made a beeline for the locker room and mindlessly changed into my gear for my match that night. The vision of them together replayed over and over again in my mind, like it was on a constant loop.

I tried to rationalize with myself that I didn't care, that our relationship wasn't even real because no one really knew about us. That because it was a secret it somehow didn't count. But I kept circling back to the same conclusion. It did matter, it was important and meaningful, he meant the world to be because… Well, because I loved his laugh and his smile and the way we joked around. I loved the way he held me and kissed me. I loved him. And loving him was trouble.