Ch8

Honor

Punk teases me, I thought he would be a dick to deal with but, it is quite the opposite. True he does have a small group of friends he always hangs out with but he's never gone out of his way to be rude. I find myself looking forward to our daily encounters. At first I guess he had his reservations but slowly he's warming up to me. Whatever I get fucking hugs and I like hugs.

"Randy. Punk. You two stop fighting. No Punk, I'm free to associate with whomever I choose." I lightly punch him in the ribs, "I actually wanted to know if you'd stay back a little later to-morrow so we can finish the stuff from the other day." Randy growls at me. .

Punk smirks up at Randy, "How about it big man? How bout we trade kids for a while tomorrow?"

"No." I look back at Randy and find he is grinding his teeth in agitation. "Honor what did I just warn you about?"

"Just for a week," I glare at him; his steely gaze won't get me to obey his wishes.

CM Punk also towers over me but Randy in turn is a few inches taller than him. Punk and his razor sharp wit can just about best anyone in conversation. He runs his mouth because he knows no one is going to test him (even if he had some freak accident and had his jaw wired shut, that wouldn't stop him).

"Catfight… I don't care to be in the middle of those." Punk mocks us wrinkling his nose to emphasize the point.

"Punk, has any one ever told you to shut up? If not then let me be the first, shut up." Randy's eyes narrow locking on Punk.

I can't help but roll my eyes, "Where is Avery?" I shrink back to Randy's side, his hand snakes around my wrist slightly squeezing it, as he tows me backward to him.

"She is making herself up and all that other crap. I wish she'd hurry up, I've got a meeting with production..." Sinking back into his heels and absent mindedly rubbing his freshly trimmed scruff, he observes Randy's discontent and my agitation towards his attitude. "Why is it that you chicks take forever in a day?"

"I don't know. Thank the evolution of society," I grimace as I feel Randy's strength rooting me next to him so I don't drift to close to Punk, "What are you doing tonight on the show?"

"For me to know and you to find out... much later," Punk's voice dropping to haunting whisper. I sigh because I know the dark match against Avery is tonight after his closing segment. Fidgeting with my hair is my tell-tale nervous habit. He called me on that the first time I talked to him. Boldly Punk grabs my hand away from my hair, then tucks the long strand behind my ear, "Own the crowd, much like you just owned Orton over here."

"Goodbye Punk," Randy bitterly spat, cutting into our conversation and roughly dragged me away.

Turning back I wave at Punk, catching him mocking Randy, "Goodbye Randal."

Randy was damn angry with me. I know why and I don't care I need to finish learning what Punk was teaching me. I had my match earlier and I'd won. Ironically using one of the DDTs Punk had been teaching me. My execution can use more work but I must say Avery still can't sell any of the moves very well.

Randy is sitting across from me shooting daggers at the screen, his knuckles turning white at his relentless of squeezing the controller. His voice ice cold as he hisses obscenities in to the headset at some guy halfway around the world. As we retired to the bus he gifted me with the now ongoing silent treatment. Suddenly slamming the controller on the marble table he walks to the fridge and snatches a beer from the shelf.

Softly, I grasp his wrist as he ignores my presence to go to his room at the back of the bus.

"What?" His voice a guttural whisper meant to frighten, better yet warn me. His is mouth set in a hard line as he rolls his eyes in annoyance.

"Please don't be mad." He manages to push me away from him before I could mold my form to him.

Gruffly he says, "I'm not."

I've seen him get upset with people but five minutes later forget all about it. I must have struck a nerve for him to be so sour all day. "Randy please, I'm sorry. But he needs to finish teaching me those DDT executions. Otherwise I wouldn't have asked." I know he was steaming over that. I can talk to any number of guys backstage and he'll say nothing but, as soon as Punk says one word to me he flips out.

"You still asked. Oh and you asked in front of my face... like I wasn't even there. You're so fucking lucky you're special because other than that you'd be done. And I wouldn't be wasting my fucking time." I look down at his arm and trail my fingers across the swirling ink patterns permanently etched into his skin. He removes my fingers pushing my arm back to my side. "I'm going to bed. Don't bother me."

Abruptly he turns on his heels and storms to the back, I watch him disappear behind the door he just slammed.

Not even two hours later Randy is walking through the narrow corridor. Towel in hand he's heading straight for the shower, barely acknowledging me. I already washed up and put on pajamas. Well, what I consider bed clothes, bra panties, and a men's white button down shirt my brother, Dimitri, had given to me.

"Can't sleep?" I ask while I watch every muscle in his back flex with and against each other, him reacting to the sound of my voice.