Author's note: Thank you for those awesome favourites and follows. I'd love hearing from you as well, though. Maybe you want to drop me a few lines... Anyhow, much more to come. Have fun!
Today the WWE headquarters had faxed the new scripts to the wrestlers' present location. Nina imagined an intern operating the fax machine with pearls of sweat on his forehead. Before her mind's eye she saw another pair of eager hands grab those pages the fax machine several hundred miles away spit out. The thought of the people at the end of the line of that delivery process gave Nina pause and made her nervous. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to hear from Stuart and Stephen, yet again she wanted to know what they would have to say about her first official script.
Sure, she couldn't have gotten everything right on the first try, but she needed some input, constructive criticism – anything really. Those thoughts kept buzzing around her head all day. They made her irritable and snappy. At lunchtime she picked at her food without any real enthusiasm. She refused to engage in conversation. It was like a dark cloud was hovering over her head.
Luke made the mistake of asking her what had caused her dramatic mood swing for which she nearly bit his head off. Wasn't he aware that her job depended on what the two men would have to say about her script? Her boss could praise her all he wanted, but what ultimately counted was keeping both parties happy - her employers and the talents.
The pressure was higher than usual because this time she had also written for someone who was strictly speaking not her responsibility. What if she had messed up Randy Orton's lines? The what-ifs were amounting and driving her crazy.
When it was time to leave work, she did with great pleasure, which was an oddity for her. As a rule she enjoyed doing her job, but right now she had to get away. Her hands kept reaching for her cellphone. They were itching to send a brief message to Stephen. All she wanted was ask him what he thought about her work. Luckily she managed to stop herself every time.
In order to keep herself from going mad, she drove home quickly, stormed inside her apartment, changed into some sweatpants and a T-shirt and went for a run. Under normal circumstances she never went without her cellphone, because she liked to listen to some music while working out, but today she left it behind on purpose. The only sound that accompanied her on her run was the steady rhythm of her feet, the noise of children playing in the park and the occasional barking of a dog.
Today she pushed herself to the limit. She ran until her sides ached. She was punishing herself because she couldn't stop her overactive mind from worrying and imaging all kinds of dreadful scenarios, involving ripped up script pages, curses and all kinds of drama.
Sweaty and exhausted from the run, she sat down on a park bench a couple of steps away from her apartment building. She dreaded going home. She knew the first thing she would do was check her damn cellphone for new messages.
Only when the sweat on her back turned cold and her wet clothes started to become rather uncomfortable, she got up and walked the few meters home. Nina unlocked the door and headed straight for the shower. When she heard the loud bleep of an incoming message, however, she actually jumped out from under the spray of the water and ran to the living-room to check her cellphone.
As soon as her soapy finger held the cellphone in their grasp, she let out a groan. It was a text from her phone company informing her about this month's bill.
Now she felt a right fool, standing there naked, dripping water all over the carpet. She needed to get a life outside her job. Go out, meet other people... Her fingers typed in a message to the only two people she knew in town so far: Maria and Luke. Her behavior had not been despicable enough to make them consider shunning her for being a complete and utter bitch, had it?
Surprisingly Maria answered her immediately, saying that she would be happy to go out for a couple of drinks with her. Luke's reply followed shortly after. He had already made plans for tonight, but the general teasing tone of the message told her that he wasn't holding a grudge like she had feared.
Two hours later she was having cocktails with Maria at a fancy bar. The two women were chatting away merrily, for once avoiding to talk about work. Nina's cellphone lay forgotten in her bag.
"So you're engaged," she took a sip from her drink, looking at Maria's engagement ring that sparkled underneath the dimmed artificial light from above. "How does that feel?"
"Fantastic," she paused rethinking her statement, "but also a bit weird," she added with a smile.
Nina smiled back. "Tell me something about your fiance...," she encouraged her.
Maria licked her lips, thinking about where to start. "Well, he's very handsome of course," she started with a grin. Nina chuckled, already feeling her drink getting to her head. No wonder. She was a lightweight. "He's called Rodrigo and he's Dominican..."
"Oh, so that's why you speak Spanish so well!" Nina interrupted her with a knowing bright smile.
Maria winked at her before she took another sip of her drink. "I speak Spanish so well because I'm just that good, chica."
"What does Rodrigo do for a living?" Nina inquired.
"He's an architect."
Nina made an appreciative sound. "I bet that's an interesting job."
"I guess it is. But I couldn't be doing it. It might not seem like it, but it's got a lot to do with figures, calculations and statistics. I never was any good at math."
"Me neither," Nina admitted. "Why do you think I ended up in writing?" Both women laughed at that.
"Any man in your life?" Maria asked, using the relaxed mood to help her satisfy her curiosity.
"No," Nina told her, chewing the top of the straw that was sticking in her drink.
"Are you looking for someone?"
"Not really," she shrugged her shoulders. "I've only just moved here. I need some time to settle in. New job, new town, new friends," saying the last word she smiled at Maria. The other woman reciprocated her smile and patted her arm in a gesture of reassurance.
"Still, if you had to pick a guy, what would he have to be like?"
Nina frowned. She had never given that sort of question much thought. She liked the people she liked and that was it. Thinking back to her previous boyfriends, she couldn't determine whether she liked certain mannerisms or certain looks. She chewed her bottom lip. "I'm not sure I have a type."
"Come on, everybody has. I'm sure yours is tall and muscular," Maria teased.
Nina wrinkled her nose. "Like those wrestlers we write for?"
Maria nodded avidly.
"I think not."
"So what then?"
"Are you always that persistent?" Nina laughed, trying to deflect the question.
"Only when I'm curious about something. So come on. Think! I want to know," Maria told her, picking up her glass, rattling around the ice cubes in it.
"Well, for one thing he would have to have a decent sense of humor...," Nina started.
"There we go. Keep going," Maria encouraged her, almost sounding a bit overeager.
"He would have to be smart, ambitious, but not too ambitious... It's hard to explain," Nina was struggling a bit to find the right words here. "He should have certain goals in life, but he shouldn't do anything cutthroat or untoward to achieve them, you know?"
Maria nodded. "I'm disappointed. Still nothing at all in the looks department?"
Nina thought for a moment, then shook her head. "No, nothing. As I said, I don't really have type. You know how you sometimes meet a guy and you think he's really hot and then he opens his mouth and ruins it all? I've had that happen to me too many times."
"Amen to that," Maria raised her drink to toast her. They clinked their glasses together.
Later that night, on the taxi ride home, Nina finally checked her cellphone again. There were a couple of unread messages. The first one was only a few minutes old. It was from Maria.
"Thanks for a great night. We should do this more often."
Nina smiled as she typed in her answer: "I agree. We should. See you tomorrow! Sleep tight!"
The other messages were from a few hours ago.
There was one from Stuart. True to his character it was rather short and very understated. "Not bad," it read.
She smirked. That was a relief. She reckoned Stuart was not easily impressed. "Thank you. And thank you for letting me know. I appreciate it," she texted back.
The last message was from Stephen. "Good job. You're hired ;-) ," it said plain and simply.
Strangely enough answering Stuart's message had been easier. It took her quite some time to find the right words and when she did they were quite unspectacular. "Thank you."
Contrary to Stuart, however, Stephen texted right back. Maybe he was still up and bored.
Stephen: You're welcome. I've got a question though...
Nina wrinkled her forehead, but quickly answered nevertheless.
Nina: OK...
Stephen: Brobdingnag. That's from Gulliver's Travels, right?
She let out a bark of laughter and the taxi driver briefly turned his head to look at her. "I'm okay," she told him. "Now, shoo! Look at the road."
Nina: You're still thinking about that? That was days ago...
Stephen: What can I say? It's been bugging me...
Nina: Yes, it's from Gulliver's Travels.
Stephen: Ha! I knew it...
She didn't know what to answer to that apart from shrugging her shoulders and rolling her eyes which wasn't really something you could convey by writing a text, so she just waited for him to send another message. After a few moments he did.
Stephen: What are you up to?
Nina: Taking a taxi home after sharing a couple of drinks with a friend.
Stephen: Aha. Bolloxed?
Nina: What?!
Stephen: Flaming? Fluthered?
Nina: I don't understand. Sorry.
Stephen: I'm just messing with you. Ever wondered why there are so many different expression for the state of being 'drunk' in Irish?
Nina: No. Are you maybe bolloxed? ;-)
Stephen: Nah! Just another hotel room, another night on the road... Don't mind me.
Nina: Awwww. You'll live. Wanna hear the one Irish word I know?
Stephen: What is it?
Nina: Craic.
Stephen: Figures. Talking to you mostly is craic.
Nina: Flatterer. :-)
Stephen: You're welcome. Well, off to have a kip now.
Nina: Is this Irish 101? You mean you're going to sleep, right?
Stephen: Bang on. ;-) Night. Take care!
Nina: Night. You too.
Wrestlemania 29 was just around the corner and in the weeks before the WWE headquarters in Stamford resembled a beehive, busy with activity. The atmosphere was tense and it was particularly tense in the little room Nina was brooding in with three others of her colleague, namely Mike, Dom and Robert. They were supposed to come up with an idea for the 6-man-tag-team-match between Sheamus, Randy Orton, the Big Show and the Shield. They had nothing. Well, apart from one thing. They knew that in the end the Big Show was going to betray his tag team partners.
"We have to make our guys look good out there," Nina summed up the situation, more talking to herself than to anyone else.
"Relax, we'll figure it out," Robert told her. He was in his mid forties and his charismatic smile partly made up for his receding hairline.
"Easy for you to say, Rob, when it's your guy who's going to mob the floor with Sheamus and Randy," she smiled at him, despite the fact that she was massaging her trembles tiredly.
"This is not helping us," Mike said forcefully. "We should have prepared better for this. You should have kept in touch with me, Nina, but you're always so damn focused on yourself."
The accusation behind his words was far from being subtle. Nina was not that impulsive, but now she actually had to bite her tongue. She wouldn't give Mike the satisfaction of provoking her to lash out on him in public. It would only put her in a weak position. She was the newcomer. Mike had been working for the company for years. Though he was no more than five years her senior, he had made quite a name for himself and was considered a battle-proven veteran by many.
"You're right, we should have met before," she gave him a pointed look, thinking of the many times he had left her hanging or brushed her off impatiently whenever she had tried to arrange a meeting with him, "but the situation is what it is now..."
"Let's take inventory here for a sec," Rob suggested. "In one corner we've got the Shield who are going to win this fight just like every other one they have been in..."
"Why are they going to win and not Sheamus, Orton and Big Show? What's going to make the difference?" Mike thought out loud.
"The Shield is the hottest property of this company right now because they work so well together as a team," Dom gave to think, leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms behind his neck. He didn't seem to be too perturbed by the thought of having to come up with an idea for not only one wrestler, but three as it was the case with his team.
"Yeah, so our guys will not work together quite so well...," she thought out loud.
"How did you come up with that brilliant idea? Stating the obvious here. Hurry up, will ya? I've got another meeting coming up right after this one," Mike scolded her, once more putting his loveable character on display.
It wasn't hard coming up with the next idea, because it mirrored their current situation. Mike was constantly trying to upstage her. "How about that? Sheamus needs to tag. Big Show desperately wants in on the fight, but Randy Orton tags himself in instead...," Nina started.
"And Big Show only gets to stand back and watch," Mike interrupted her.
"That's good. If Show spends too much time waiting around for a chance to fight, he's going to go grow impatient and pick a fight," Rob said.
"He first smacks Orton down, then Sheamus. End of story. How do you like the idea, guys?" Mike got up from his chair. There was a winning smile on his face that was supposed to cover up the fact that it had actually been Nina who had come up with that particular idea in the first place.
Nina growled quietly too herself as she watched Robert and Dom slap Mike congratulatory on his shoulders. Luckily she didn't have to spend anymore time locked up inside this room with Mike or else she might have soon taken a page out of Sheamus' book and kicked that stupid ass right in the face.
Now that they had come up with an idea for the fight, the meeting was over. The four colleagues agreed to flesh out the scene separately at their respective desks. They would meet up again later that day to add the finishing touches to it. Nina gave them a curt nod before she stormed from the room, walking towards her office at a very brisk pace.
She ripped open the door. To her dismay she noticed that neither Luke nor Maria were there. Now she didn't even have someone to talk to after what had happened. They would have understood her anger and maybe even managed to get her out of her sulk with a few gentle words or a joke.
Nina had to get herself together somehow, so she got her cellphone out of her bag, rammed the headphone cable into it and scrolled through her play-list. One folder went by the subtle little title "butt-kicking-music". She opened it and the music of the Dropkick Murphys was soon filling her ears.
The first song that played was "Shipping up to Boston". She had written some of her best lines for Sheamus listening to that song. It was probably a good idea to start writing a fighting scene now because her own blood was boiling, so she didn't waste any more time and switched on the computer.
Stephen's nerves rarely played up anymore before he headed out on stage. The only time he still got that queasy feeling in his gut was before PPV events or Wrestlemania. Well, Wrestlemania would kick off in a couple of minutes and he was quite jittery.
He was still backstage, in his dressing room, trying to get in the zone. He had to be focused. Focus was essential, especially in a tag team match involving five other guys.
The prospect of having his arse kicked tonight in front of a several million viewers world-wide was not very uplifting, but that was what the higher-ups had decreed. It didn't matter after all. A fight was a fight...
He reached for his cellphone, about to turn it off, when a message came in. Curiosity got the better of him and he read it.
Nina: So excited for the show tonight! Kick some ass, Farrelly! Good luck and stay safe! See you later.
The message was relatively neutral. Nevertheless reading it helped to calm him down.
"You'd better watch me get my arse kicked tonight. :-) It was you who wrote it after all. See you on the other side of this monster," he quickly wrote before he switched off the phone and left the room.
He walked through the massive backstage area of the stadium, dimly noticing that a staff member had started following him and was nervously talking into his headset. The corridors were buzzing with activity. Somewhere in the VIP lounge Nina, together with the rest of the creative staff, was probably getting ready to watch the show.
It was always a massive feat for the company putting together such an event like Wrestlemania. True, most of them weren't of much use anymore after this event, but the euphoria of the show lasted them for the rest of the night and created an incredibly positive mood among everyone involved in the project. It meant the culmination of weeks of preparation, planning and intense stress.
He reached Randy's dressing room and knocked once, rapping his knuckles against the cool wood of the door. By now he was on autopilot, focused on what lay ahead. Warm up, get out there and give the people one hell of a show.
The time until his music hit passed in a flurry of hectic activities. He stepped out on stage and was suddenly hit by how large the stadium was. The screen behind him was massive. Seen from up above, he had to look like a tiny human-shaped smudge of white, red and green. The bright light of the floodlights was on him. He smiled. He was a mad Irishman in a sea of people about to get into one hell of a fight. Life didn't get any better than this. His heart was beating fast inside his chest which was quickly falling and rising. Besides him Randy burst out on stage, just as fired up as him. Paul came out moments later. Now here they were, minutes away from their big match.
They made their way to the ring. The crowd was cheering and he was pumped for a fight. His head switched off and his instincts took over. They guided him safely through the routine and kept him out of harms way. His vision was clear, yet he was so focused he perceived everything as if through a tunnel.
He smirked when he heard the crowd count along as he rained down his fists first one Rollins' chest, then on Ambrose's. He was having a grand old time, even though he already knew that his team was going to lose.
Only when he was backstage again and the rush of adrenaline subsided, he registered that not everything had gone as smoothly as he had initially thought. One of the guys had unintentionally kicked him in the ribs and in the stomach, but it wasn't such a big deal. He was used to that by now. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Someone held a towel under his nose. He accepted it gratefully and headed for the showers.
On the way there the feeling of exhaustion washed over him. It intensified once he was under the hot spray of water. It hurt when he massaged the shampoo into his scalp. Someone had pulled his hair a little too hard.
Stephen dried off and put on his street clothes, a regular black shirt and some jeans. He pulled a face when he saw his hair sticking up in all directions. He was tired and there was no way in hell he could be bothered to style it now, so he simple put on a black flat cap.
Now he was presentable again. He headed to the lounge area, wanting to see the rest of the matches.
When he arrived, Randy was already there, comfortably seated on one of those couches with a bottle of water dangling from his fingers. Next to him there was Mike, Stephen's former and Randy's present writer. Both men's eyes were glued to the huge screen in front of them that showed the live footage from inside the massive sports arena. Daniel Bryan and Kane were just about to start their match against Ziggler and Langston.
"Hey, Randy, good fight," he told the other man. Inevitably the duo looked up at him. Randy smiled and said "You too" before he focused back on the screen. Mike's eyes rested a little longer on Stephen. The Irishman wondered what one was supposed to say in a situation like that. It felt a bit like meeting up with a former girlfriend, the same awkwardness and uncomfortable silences.
"You gave them a good show, bro," Mike acknowledged, holding out his hand to him to congratulate him. They briefly shook hands.
There was a crowd of people to their left whose loud yells attracted their attention. It was the rest of the creative team. As their affiliations towards the different wrestlers varied according to who their charges were, they didn't seem to be able to agree on whether to boo or to cheer for one team. Stephen shook his head. Writers were really a crazy bunch.
"Looking for a moment of solitude and privacy, Mike, ey?" for a moment there was an amused sparkle in Stephen's eyes despite the exhaustion that had settled upon him.
"I get to see them everyday," Mike shrugged. "Sometimes a change of scenery is nice, if you know what I mean."
He did. Stephen was torn between sitting down with to the two men and actually going to look for a change of scenery himself. His eyes flitted across the room and he made eye contact with Nina. He smiled. She smiled back. He tried to get her to come over with a wave of his hand and a nudge of his head. Her eyes settled on the men seated on the couch behind him and she shook her head.
She usually was quite the sociable type and he was sure she would have jumped at the chance of getting to know Orton under normal circumstances, so it had to be Mike's presence that kept her from coming over, he concluded. "Something up with you two?" Stephen asked Mike.
Mike gave him an innocent look, pretending like he didn't know what he was talking about. "Nina? Oh, she's just being difficult again. You know how women are..." He dismissed Stephen's question.
Stephen was too tired to waste any more thought on the situation, so he just shrugged. "Alright, I'm going to go grab a beer. I'll be right back."
He made his way over to catering, his eyes always wandering back to the screen. He sucked in a breath through his teeth in sympathy when he saw Daniel take a hard fall. The look of pain in his eyes wasn't for show.
The first sip of beer was pure bliss. It was ice cold and ran smoothly done his throat, though the bottle was only a thimble compared to the good old pint from back home. Instead of walking straight back to Orton and Mike he decided to take a little detour.
As noiselessly as a man of his stature could possibly sneak up on someone, he made his way across the lounge towards Nina, zigzagging through the crowd. Stephen managed to get behind her without her noticing. He smirked to himself, taking in how transfixed she was with the happenings on screen. The dark-haired woman next to her had already noticed him and he signaled her to stay quiet by bringing his index finger to his lips. She nodded at him with a conspiratorial smirk.
"Nina Stewart! There you are!" his booming voice that was suddenly so close, let Nina do a double take and she almost spilled her drink all over herself in surprise.
"Stephen... Hi!" Her facial features changed from completely flummoxed to genuinely happy in the rather short time it took her to turn around. Her smile was very toothy and even more exuberant than usual.
"Good job!" she patted his shoulder awkwardly. It was more than obvious she was overly self-conscious when it came to interacting with him. Her sympathy towards him was showing in her smile, but she wouldn't go as far as to hug him. Now why was that? Maybe she thought that was untoward or something. Luckily he didn't give a rat's arse about whether hugging her was untoward or not. He was still riding that after-show-buzz and it seemed like a good idea.
She let out a surprised squeal when he laid his arm around her midriff in an one-armed bear hug. Her feet briefly left the ground and dangled in the air. She spilled a little of her drink on his shirt, but he didn't mind. It was black anyway and the expression on her face, a mixture of mock indignation and pure delight, rewarded him for whatever damage his wardrobe might have suffered.
He set her down again carefully, noticing that their display of affection had drawn some attention, a couple of her coworkers were staring at them before they refocused their attention on the screen. He could bring himself to care however, because she was grinning from ear to ear.
"Wow, you're strong!" she praised and once again he had no doubt that those words made the way from her brain to her mouth completely undiluted.
"Thanks. Has anyone ever told you, you make noises like a cuddly toy when you're being hugged?" he grinned back.
Instead of an answer she poked him in the rips with her index finger and he flinched because she had hit the same precise spot an unidentified boot had connected with earlier.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, looking at him in concern. "Are you alright? Have I hurt you?"
"Relax, Nina. I'm fine." As he said those words, it occurred to him that he actually told her to relax a lot. But what was a fella to do? It was true, she needed to relax more. It was like she was constantly wired.
"I'm not convinced," she said, looking up at him through narrowed eyes, "but if you say so."
"Just a few scrapes. The guys were a little overzealous because it's Wrestlemania," he told her calmly, taking another sip of his bottle of beer. She still looked unconvinced, as if she was actually contemplating calling 911. He gave her speculative look.
"Say, Nina," he said, "you seem awfully worried. How much of the stuff we do, do you think is real anyway?"
She blushed. "About 80%?"
He shot her a skeptical and rather disbelieving look, indicating with his thumb that the figure was lower.
"70?" She asked doubtfully.
He made a tutting sound, shaking his head. With a sigh he patted her shoulder. "A'll make ya a deal, little lady," thanks to his amusement with her, his accent was particularly thick. "We're training for Raw tomorrow afternoon. Ya wanna come?"
"To watch?" she asked excitedly.
"You just wanna be watching?"
She nodded.
"Nah! I'll teach you some moves," he laughed.
"I don't know," she looked at his broad muscular shoulders and arms skeptically.
He gave her a look of mock indignation. "Worried I'm gonna snap you like a wee, little twig?" he tried to hide his grin while drinking from his bottle.
"Among other things," she took a sip of her own drink.
"You're very nervous tonight, huh? What are you drinking anyway?" he gave the liquid inside her glass a funny look.
"Coke?"
"I am in me wick!"
"What?"
"I said you must be joking. The last thing you need is more caffeine," he gently plucked the glass from her hands and placed it on the bistro table next to him. For now it was out of her reach.
"That would explain why you're always so fidgety...," he said, raising his eyebrows reproachfully at her.
"I'm sorry but the prospect of training with a pro-wrestler would make just about anyone fidgety. With or without caffeine," she crossed her arms over her chest and for the first time he noticed how nice she looked tonight. She wore a black jumpsuit and her hair was neatly styled.
On impulse he leaned down, so his head was level with hers. She noticed how his blue eyes were sparkling in the dim light. He was smiling and his dimples were showing. He was in a particularly good mood tonight and she could help but reciprocate the smile. "Have a little faith in me. I would never hurt a lady, okay? You'll be safe as houses with me."
Strangely she did believe him and it seemed to show on her face, because he patted her shoulder in satisfaction. "Atta girl."
The match on screen took an interesting turn and claimed their attention. She sidled up beside him, standing on one side of the table while he was leaning on the other. For a couple of minutes they watched the match in companionable silence, except, of course, for those muffled sounds of approval and muttered curses one typically makes when watching a fight.
Out of the corner of her eyes Nina saw Maria turn around to her and give her a cheeky thumbs up. She waved her off. Luckily Stephen hadn't seen. Luke was more obnoxious and less discreet, making kissy faces at her, while contorting his face in all kinds of funny grimaces. She heard Stephen chuckle besides her and she hit her forehead with the palm of her hand in a gesture that clearly indicated her annoyance and embarrassment.
"You know your life would be a lot easier if you'd stop being embarrassed about everything," he said before he could stop himself.
"I know. I'm not usually like that," she said, reaching for her Coke again. He swatted her hand away from it, slapping her wrist ever so slightly.
"Just around me then?" he inquired, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.
"Yeah," she admitted finally.
"Well, you don't have to be. There's no reason."
She gave him a long serious look as if she was trying to figure out whether his words were true. After a while she finally nodded.
As a peace offering he held out her drink to her. She made as if to reach for it, but then, without a warning, she snatched the cap right off his head instead.
"Oi! Give it back, you nutter!" His hair was flattened to his head and in general not looking very presentable.
She took pity on him, holding out his cap to him with a smile. "You know, I've got some hair gel in my bag if you want to use it. I'm sure you need to give a couple of interviews later," she said with a sly grin.
"No need," he grumbled as he put the cap back on his head quickly.
"Suit yourself," she shrugged. "I usually have mine done in the blink of an eye."
He eyed her hair more closely now. She had gelled it up in something resembling a mohawk, which gave her a slightly edgy look. He decided to raise an eyebrow in disbelief. "Away with ya'! That can't be true..."
"It is. How about when this match is over, we'll head to the men's and I'll show you?" she challenged.
"You're on," he told her with a smirk. He never backed down from a challenge. "That hair gel of yours better not be smelling of gum or cherries or any other girlish stuff."
"Coconut," she grinned and he let out a small groan of disbelief, but it was too late for second thoughts now, he had already said he would play along, so he couldn't back out anymore.
