A/N: Yay, a new chapter! For those of you who read the OS that inspired this story, you'll recognize some elements of this chapter. I tweaked it a little bit, changed some things so it would fit in better with the story as a whole. This chapter is slightly more epic (i.e. longer) than the ones I've done recently, so it took me a bit to get it right. Hopefully, you'll enjoy it. Peace!
Thank you to alethea293, sexigirl08, miles89, Esha Napoleon, BettyChampGirl, and extremist for your reviews! You're awesome! Love yas!
Chapter 9: You Don't Know Me At All
Melina gripped the bottom rope with both hands, peering anxiously at the two occupants inside the ring. "C'mon, baby," she urged softly, biting her lower lip.
Even if she had screamed it, Nitro probably still wouldn't have heard her; he was too focused on applying an ankle lock to Jeff's left leg. The Intercontinental Champion tossed his highlighted tresses back from his face, glaring at the unappreciative Toronto fans that were simultaneously cheering Hardy and booing him.
It was the night of Unforgiven, and Round Two of the Hardy/Nitro rivalry had been selected to kick off the pay-per-view. While Melina was slightly annoyed that her boyfriend had been relegated to the insignificant opening match slot, she was also somewhat relieved. If Jeff Hardy lost this bout tonight, he would be lucky if he ever got a shot at the title again. All Nitro had to do was pin his shoulders to the mat for three seconds, and this burned-out daredevil would be history. She and Nitro could call it an early night, head out to the nearest nightclub to celebrate—and she could forget all about this loser Jeff Hardy. Forget his eyes, forget his mocking half-smile…
Forget the electricity that coursed through her body when he touched her…
Unfortunately, eradicating the Rainbow-Haired Warrior from her life was not going as smoothly as she'd hoped. Much like a nasty virus, Hardy was proving himself to be quite resilient. Nitro had taken control early on, targeting one of Jeff's legs and effectively grounding the high flyer. But for some reason, the Charismatic Enigma refused to quit, breaking out of every pin cover, and rising to his feet every time he was knocked down. Right now, for instance, Jeff had to be in incredible pain from the hold Nitro had cinched on his injured leg, but instead of tapping, the younger Hardy brother merely gritted his teeth and slowly inched his lean frame toward the ropes.
Melina remembered—with some annoyance—dealing with his older brother Matt back on SmackDown. Man, he'd been obnoxious, always causing grief for her, Nitro, and Mercury, and blathering on about how he "would not die".
Apparently, this particular breed of stubbornness ran in the family.
In the ring, Jeff succeeded in reaching the ropes, grabbing onto them and forcing Nitro to break the hold. The Intercontinental Champion grudgingly obliged, but as soon as the Rainbow-Haired Warrior was up, Nitro grabbed hold of his leg once more, pulling him back toward the center of the ring. Jeff hopped along awkwardly on one foot, but before the self-proclaimed A-lister could lock in another submission hold, the Charismatic Enigma launched his body upward, catching Nitro right in the jaw with a mule kick.
The ecstatic roars of the crowd drowned out Melina's shrieks. The Dominant Diva pressed her hand over her mouth, shocked. However, in the next instant, the shock had passed and her expression reverted to its original one of icy hatred. She gripped the bottom rope with both hands, glaring at the younger Hardy brother. Stay down, Hardy… she thought to herself furiously. Just fucking STAY DOWN…
Jeff, of course, didn't hear her, or even so much as glance in her direction; he was too busy pulling Nitro to his feet, tucking the Intercontinental Champion's head under his arm in preparation for the Twist of Fate. The self-proclaimed A-lister quickly wriggled free, though, tackling Jeff's injured leg and taking them both down. Once there, Nitro cinched the wounded limb in a leg lock, this one much more secure than the previous submission hold. Just like before, Jeff tried to inch toward the ropes, but the Intercontinental Champion mercilessly dragged him back to the center of the ring, increasing the pressure on the hold.
Melina brought her hands together in a show of applause, casting a satisfied smirk over her shoulder at the dismayed group of fans behind her. It was all over now; not even the legendary Jeff Hardy could hold out much longer. Soon, he would have no choice but to tap out, and this arena would get to see first-hand just how big a loser their idol truly was.
The paparazzi princess made a tapping motion, smiling sweetly. Too bad Hardy couldn't see her—she would have loved to see the pain and suffering etched across his face, along with the gradual realization that he couldn't win this match. Not tonight. Not against Johnny Nitro. "Tap, Jeff," the Dominant Diva cooed, her voice like poisoned honey. "Just go ahead and tap—"
Her words died away and her smirk vanished as Jeff suddenly arched his body off the canvas, rolling both him and Nitro toward the ropes. The Intercontinental Champion hung on, trying to ground himself, but he was no match for the younger Hardy brother's burst of adrenalin. Once he was within reach of the ropes, Jeff grabbed onto them, clinging to them with both arms.
The paparazzi princess screamed, tearing at her red-brown curls with both hands. What was it going to take to put Jeff Hardy down? This guy was a loser, a burnout; Johnny was the Intercontinental Champion, the future of this business. Why was this happening; why was the Rainbow-Haired Warrior so hard to kill?
In the ring, Nitro sat back on his haunches, clearly irritated. Melina could hear his frustrated: "Come on!" from where she stood. The Dominant Diva abruptly climbed up onto the apron, holding onto the ropes for balance. All she needed was a few seconds, a few brief moments to distract the referee—allowing Nitro to inflict a little illegal punishment behind his back. The fans would bitch about it—but then again, what did they really know?
The first part of her plan worked perfectly; instantly, referee Jack Doan was at the ropes, glaring down at her. "Get off the apron!" the WWE official ordered. However, what happened immediately after was certainly not planned for.
In retrospect, she realized that Johnny must have been going for the leg lock again. At that particular moment, however, all Melina saw was the muscular frame of her boyfriend hurtling across the ring toward her, and then the force of the impact as he crashed into her, knocking her off the apron.
The paparazzi princess hit the floor hard, landing awkwardly on her ankle. Instantly, pain flared up her leg, driving everything else into insignificance. The match, Hardy, even Johnny—none of that mattered anymore; the only issue of importance was determining whether or not she had broken her ankle in the fall. The Dominant Diva rolled over onto her side, gingerly probing her leg with her fingers. It didn't feel broken, but she wouldn't know for sure until she got her boot off.
From the way the crowd was practically having an orgasm, something of great importance must have been happening in the ring above her. But Melina—for once—couldn't care less. She was too focused on unzipping her black leather stiletto boot and removing it from her injured foot. This accomplished, she massaged her ankle again, wiggling it back and forth tentatively. Twisted, for sure, but certainly not broken.
The paparazzi princess let out a quiet sigh of relief. Injuries were always the bane of a wrestler's existence, but even more so in her case. Her signature entrance was the only thing that distinguished her from the other Divas on the roster; take that away and she was of no more importance than that little skank on ECW, the one whose only talent seemed to consist of taking her clothes off.
By now, Melina had completely forgotten about the match; therefore, it wasn't surprising when she shrieked a little in shock as Jeff's head suddenly emerged from between the ropes. The Charismatic Enigma's eyes were closed and he was breathing hard; he didn't seem to be aware of her presence. The Dominant Diva's eyes narrowed and her fingers closed a little tighter around the smooth leather of her boot.
Melina was well aware of Shane McMahon's directive regarding her interference; at this point, the last thing she wanted was the match restarted while she watched helplessly from backstage. But this was different: she was outside the ring, the referee was nowhere in sight—and as everyone who had spent more than two seconds in a wrestling ring was well aware, the referee couldn't call what he couldn't see.
Besides, the Chairman's son should have understood better than anyone else what it was like to be constantly hounded by someone; to be insulted and humiliated at every turn, and no matter what you did, you never seemed to be able to make them stay down…
I'll take the belt…you keep the skank…
It wasn't this remark, however, that stirred her into action. Nor was it the Intercontinental Championship, or even concern for her boyfriend. Rather, it was the memory of Jeff and Maria kissing in that hallway, of the younger Hardy brother's arms entwined around that bimbo's waist—
With a low snarl, the paparazzi princess swung her boot upward, aiming for the Rainbow-Haired Warrior's head. Just before she connected, Jeff's eyes flicked open, locking onto hers. Awareness flashed across his green irises, and in that moment, in that single instant, Melina was gripped by a sudden irrational panic, the thought that she shouldn't do this, that she should stop—
But it was too late.
The boot crashed into Jeff's face, knocking him back into the ring. Melina crouched down beside the apron, lest the ref should notice her interference and call for a DQ. But the match continued, and in a few seconds, she heard the comforting thud of the official's hand as he called the three-count, followed by the even more glorious sound of the ring bell, signaling the end of the match.
The Dominant Diva rose to her feet, putting all of her weight on her uninjured leg. The crowd was rabid, venting all of its animosity in her general direction. She caught a few of their epithets—Bitch Whore Slut Skank—but for the most part, Melina was able to block it out. She had spent the last year becoming immune to the fans' petty hatred, and while it occasionally smarted, it didn't really wound her anymore.
This insensitivity, this ability to not feel, not care, had become as natural to her as breathing. But more and more—and especially tonight—Melina was realizing that it was an act; that despite her best intentions, she really did care…
The paparazzi princess limped toward the front of the ring. Johnny was already crawling toward it as well, Intercontinental Championship clutched protectively to him. Once he was out of the ring, she would join him and raise his arm in victory, and then they would walk backward up the ramp, gloating, while Jeff paced back and forth, swearing revenge. She knew the script; she had seen it played out a hundred, a thousand times before.
But this time, the Dominant Diva looked back, casting one last look at the fallen Warrior. Jeff lay on his back in the ring, staring up at the lights, a dazed expression on his face. Melina regarded him wordlessly, making sure her features wore their usual countenance of haughty satisfaction—and wondering why, this time, she was finding this particular expression so hard to keep in place.
Jeff limped out of the gorilla area, favoring his right leg. Behind him, he could hear the pulsating music and explosions of "The Marine" movie trailer, mingled with the cheers of the fans, who were still buzzing about the match they had just witnessed.
The Charismatic Enigma didn't blame them; from a purely abstract point of view, it had been a hell of a match. Johnny Nitro was one tough competitor, and Jeff had no doubt that they had given the fans one awesome bout.
There were only two problems: the fact that, athletic prowess or not, Nitro was still a total dick—and the way the match had ended.
The Rainbow-Haired Warrior knew that he should be mad, furious, over Melina's interference. But for some reason, Jeff couldn't summon up anything more than a dull feeling of inevitability. It sucked to lose, it sucked a lot—but to be honest, he had been expecting a stunt like this since learning about his rematch.
Granted, he hadn't anticipated a boot to the skull, but hey, he was learning. Slowly but surely, he was learning that Melina could not be trusted, and that despite any evidence to the contrary, there was nothing in the Dominant Diva that was good or decent or kind-hearted. There was nothing in her but emptiness, and Jeff was through wasting his hatred on a chick who didn't feel.
"Hey, man!"
Jeff looked up in surprise at the sound of his brother's voice. Matt Hardy, who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, walked over, clapping him on the shoulder, a sympathetic smile on his face. "You okay?"
The Rainbow-Haired Warrior nodded wordlessly, still stunned by the sudden appearance of his older sibling. Matt went on. "Listen, man, I know you just got robbed out there—but don't let that get you down." He gave his brother an appreciative slap on the shoulder. "You did great, man. I'm proud of you."
Despite himself, Jeff felt a grin slip across his face. Matt could be patronizing at times, and the two of them had had their problems in the past, but at the end of the day, they were and always would be each other's biggest fans. Just the fact that Matt had arrived to show his support, at his brother's first pay-per-view match in over three years, meant a lot to him, and Jeff was glad for the encouragement.
His grin faded, however, as did Matt's, at the sound of slow sarcastic applause, followed by a familiar alto drawl: "You did great, Jeff, you did great."
The brothers turned in unison, their expressions simultaneously shutting down at the sight of Lita. The Women's Champion's response was a satisfied smirk. She turned toward Matt, as though noticing him for the first time. "What do we have here? A good ol' Team XTreme reunion?" Her hazel eyes flicked back to Jeff. "So…whatcha guys been up to? I mean, not winning championships, obviously, right?
The Rated R Diva eased her red-and-gold title belt further up onto her shoulder as she continued. "Jeff, you would be a champion if you weren't such a…screw-up. But Matt—" Lita turned back toward her ex-boyfriend. "You'd be a champion if—wait, who am I kidding?" The Queen of Hardcore laughed, a low mocking sound. "You'll never be a champion. But I'll tell you what…"
The red-haired Diva inched closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Since you're here—you can watch me beat Trish Stratus…and then, just a little later on…you can watch Edge beat John Cena, and then you—" This last word was directed at Matt, who stared back at Lita with absolutely no emotion.
The Women's Champion went on, unfazed. "You can face him on SmackDown when Edge sends him packing." Her smoky voice became a husky purr. "Just like he did to you. Last year." The exes stared at each other, and Jeff was reminded of the chemistry that had once existed between the two of them. In some ways, the chemistry was still there—only now, it was comprised almost entirely of hate.
The Rated R Diva stepped back, grinning at the two brothers as though this had been just another conversation about nothing. "So…" she chirped brightly. "We should do this again sometime." Fluttering her fingers in a goodbye wave, the Queen of Hardcore strolled away.
Jeff rolled his eyes. "Just like old times," he remarked, turning to his brother for comment. Matt didn't seem to have heard; he was too busy staring off at the departing figure of his ex-girlfriend. Jeff felt a surge of brotherly love and protection toward his elder sibling. Lita had put Matt through hell, but it was obvious that, in spite of all that, he still loved her. Deep down, he would probably always love her—none of the past year's events could change that.
Matt abruptly stirred from his internal reverie, glancing back at his brother. "Where was I?" he remarked, as though nothing had happened. A sudden playful grin lit up his face. "Oh, wait, now I remember…so Ash tells me that you and Maria Kanellis are the new hot item here on Raw."
Jeff felt his cheeks flush. He quickly ducked his head, awaiting the inevitable joking that would follow. Matt chuckled, clapping his younger brother on the shoulder again. "Relax, dude, I'm not here to bust your balls about it—although, I have to say…Maria? High five, man!" The elder Hardy brother raised his hand and Jeff obligingly slapped it.
Matt went on. "I came here to see if you and her wanted to hang out with Ash and I after the show. You know: some drinks, some good conversation…how 'bout it, bro?"
Jeff pondered this for several seconds, and then shrugged. "Sure," the Charismatic Enigma agreed. "Anything to forget about this match."
Anything to forget about HER…
Melina drummed her fingers against the bar, her perfectly manicured fingernails beating out an impatient taboo on the wood surface. Honestly, she was going to shoot this bartender when he returned…It was bad enough that he'd been hitting on her hardcore ever since she'd stepped up to order, or that his gaze had never strayed any higher than her chest. But now, to actually make her wait…
Okay, so maybe there were a lot of other people in this club, all of them just as eager to procure alcohol. But Melina was willing to bet that none of them were the A-List Diva, the paparazzi princess, the girlfriend to the current Intercontinental Champion. In short, none of them were her—and if that didn't entitle her to a little extra service, then, really, what was the point?
At that point, the elusive bartender reappeared, bearing glasses in both hands. He set them down carefully on the bar in front of him, grinning at the Dominant Diva. "Here you are, angel," he announced. "Dos margaritas." The bartender leaned closer, his mouth curving in what he probably thought was a cocky smile. His gaze was still blatantly glued to her cleavage. "Don't tell me, though, that a beautiful woman like you is drinking all by herself."
I'd rather drink alone than with you…Melina replied silently. You haven't shaved and you look like you wash your hair in the frying medium…
The paparazzi princess abruptly snapped her fingers. "Hey!" Startled, the bartender glanced up. Melina pointed her index and middle fingers at her eyes. "Eyes up here, pal!" The guy flushed at having his overt staring discovered. The Dominant Diva rolled her eyes, tossing a folded bill at the hapless bartender. "Keep the change." She didn't stay to watch him fumble to catch the bill, but instead, grabbed both glasses and whirled around on her spike heels, striding away from the bar.
The club was fairly crowded for a Sunday night, and Melina had to cross the dance floor in order to reach the curtained-off VIP area she and Nitro had acquired. The paparazzi princess was a little buzzed by now, and navigating through a crush of bodies on high heels with a pair of full glasses proved to be more than a little challenging. She had made it through the obstacle course fairly unscathed when she was jostled hard in the side by someone's elbow. The Dominant Diva stumbled, almost falling to her knees. The liquid sloshed around in the glasses, slopping over the sides and spilling out over her hands. Melina turned around, furious. "Watch where the fuck you're going!" she snarled, her words coming out slightly slurred.
The culprit, a skanky-looking brunette, regarded her coolly for a second before turning back to her gaggle of friends. Melina pressed her lips together in a thin line, her dark eyes narrowed. You got off easy, bitch…she thought to herself. Next time, I won't be so nice…
For not the first time, she wondered (with no small amount of irritation) why Johnny couldn't have gotten the drinks. True, he had had one hell of a match tonight against Jeff Hardy and he deserved a little R and R. But people tended to step aside for a six-foot-tall Greek god, as opposed to his considerably shorter girlfriend. And besides, being Nitro's girlfriend didn't make Melina his own personal waitress. After all, he wouldn't have walked away with that title tonight if it hadn't been for her—
Melina quickly snatched the thought out of midair before it could complete itself. That kind of thinking was dangerous; it implied that she was less than content with Johnny, when there was absolutely no reason for her to be. True, Nitro could be temperamental and sometimes, he tended to act more like a child than a grown man. But he was also the only person who had believed in her, the only one who listened to her when she was still a developmental Diva with dreams of something more. And together, they had achieved something more. She and Nitro—they were more than just the Intercontinental Champion and his girlfriend. They were the future, and no one was going to stand in their way—certainly not Jeff Hardy.
For a second, Melina felt the tiniest twinge of…what? Conscience? Regret? Guilt? But the paparazzi princess swiftly shook it off, passing the pang of emotion off as a side effect of the alcohol. Jeff had had his chance…it wasn't her fault that he had blown it.
Okay, maybe it technically was her fault, but the Rainbow-Haired Warrior should have known that in a championship situation, you do whatever you have to to win.
The Dominant Diva stopped in front of the curtained-off VIP area, casting a glance down to make sure that none of the margarita mixture had spilled onto her clothes. Satisfied, she reached out to nudge the curtain aside—and then froze as a feminine giggle floated out from within.
Melina felt her heart stutter to a halt. Slowly, with legs that wobbled and threatened to sent her to the ground, she moved closer to the curtain, trying not to disturb it, trying not to make a sound. She heard Johnny's voice: smooth, confident, also slightly slurred: "Kelly! Don't tell me you came all the way from ECW just to see me!"
There was another giggle, followed by a high-pitched bubbly tone: "Of course not, silly! I came to see the pay-per-view! But you did really great tonight; I was so excited when you won." The Dominant Diva immediately recognized the voice as belonging to that little blond ECW whore, Kelly Kelly. Why the girl needed two names in order to function, Melina had no idea.
"Is that so?" Even though she couldn't see him, Melina could still picture the expression on his face. There was a pause. "So…Kelly…" Nitro's voice took on a flirtatious edge, and Melina felt her stomach turn. "You may not know this…but I'm a big fan of your Expose…"
This wasn't happening. There was no way that this was happening.
"So I was wondering…since you're here and all…"
This was a dream. Any minute, any second now, she was going to wake up.
"…how you'd feel about giving the Intercontinental Champ a private show?"
The paparazzi princess felt her breath catch in her throat. She stood there, practically touching the curtain, every muscle in her body tensed, praying to wake up, to wake up. She would give up anything, would take back anything that she had said or done—if it would make this moment not happen.
But the divine intervention, the act of God, never came. All Melina heard was the annoying chirp of Kelly's voice: "Sure thing, Johnny! After all, I am an exhibitionist—"
That was the last thing Melina heard. She couldn't feel her feet; all she knew was that they were carrying her away, away from the VIP area, away from Kelly, away from Johnny. But as fast as they carried her, they couldn't outrun the speed of her thoughts, of what people would say when they found out, of what they might already besaying:
So, you heard that Nitro's screwing around on Melina?
Really? Doesn't surprise me, though. Guy probably got tired of her screaming, just like the rest of us…
I don't blame him; that chick's just a spoiled brat…
Just a stuck-up little princess…
She doesn't care about anything…
She doesn't care about anyONE…
And then Jeff's voice, thundering in her ears:
The only thing you proved tonight is that you're nothing more than a golddigging bitch…
Melina reached the back of the nightclub, almost colliding headfirst with the window. The large plate glass window offered a spectacular view of the city at night. Melina stared at it dully without really seeing it. For once in her life, she had no plan, no idea of what to do next. Manipulation and scheming had come so naturally to her when it involved other people—how quickly her views changed when it involved her own life.
If she pretended that this had never happened, if she stuck her head in the sand like an ostrich…then she was a coward, plain and simple. But if she went back there and confronted Johnny and he broke up with her…then she would have nothing. Without Johnny, she truly would be JAD, and once word of his infidelity got out, no one would ever take her seriously again. How could they, when she couldn't even control her own boyfriend?
The ironic thing was, she had finally convinced herself that Johnny was truly the only person she could trust. That was why she had spent so much time systematically burning bridges, because she'd assumed that he was the only one she would ever need. And in the end…he had been the one who had let her down. All this time, he had been staring into her eyes and telling her that he loved her—and all this time, he'd been lying to her face, sleeping around behind her back. Kelly wasn't the first; she could discern that much for herself. All those late nights, "grabbing a drink with the guys"—she couldn't believe what an idiot she'd been.
And now here she was, in Toronto, staring out the window, her existence already fractured beyond repair and a heartbeat away from shattering completely. Here she was, as she always had been…alone.
The Dominant Diva raised one of the margarita glasses to her lips, draining the liquid in a few savage gulps. Raising the other glass, she did the same thing to its contents. Melina was already half-drunk to begin with, and the force of the tequila hit her like a ton of bricks, throwing her equilibrium out of whack and making her sway.
But the paparazzi princess did not care. For once, she truly did not care about anything. The glasses slipped from her numb fingers, hitting and breaking against the floor. Raising her hands to her face, Melina began to cry.
"…and so then he asked: ''Ria, will you be my girlfriend?'" Maria finished, shooting an adoring look in Jeff's direction.
Matt burst out laughing, almost spraying his beer across the table, but was quickly silenced by a elbow to the ribs from his girlfriend. "Shh!" Ashley Massaro commanded, a smile playing at her lips. "It's sweet!" She shot her boyfriend a Look. "Besides, it's more romantic than you and me."
"What happened?" Jeff asked, taking a sip from his beer. "Was he all like: 'You're cute, we should go out.'?"
Ashley grinned playfully, sipping from her own glass. "No…I asked him out."
"Okay…" Matt interjected, his face starting to turn red. "Maybe we should change the subject—"
"No, no, wait!" Jeff interrupted, grinning. "You never told me about this part!"
Ashley went on as though the two of them hadn't said anything. "And then, on our first date, he was so nervous that he kept talking about the TLC match you guys were in at Wrestlemania 17."
"Hey, I gotta side with my brother on that one, though," Jeff replied, reaching across the table to give his brother a fist pump. "That was a pretty sweet match."
The two couples were crammed into a booth against the wall of the club, conveniently located near the bar. So far, the four of them had covered everything from the pay-per-view to favorite movies, and had just finished relating their various "how we met" stories.
Matt cleared his throat, still obviously embarrassed. "So anyway…about your match tonight, bro—"
The Rainbow-Haired Warrior held up his hands in mock protest. "Okay, I thought we agreed before we came here that we weren't going to talk about my match tonight."
"Ooh! Ooh!" Maria raised her hand, scooting closer to Jeff. "I have something to talk about, and it's kind of about your match, but it kind of isn't." The younger Hardy brother gazed at her expectantly. The backstage reporter continued. "So, we all know that the only reason you lost your match tonight is because of Melina." At this, Jeff flinched a little, but his expression didn't change. "So I was thinking…I talk to the other girls tomorrow, and we exact a little Divas' Revenge."
"Ooh, sounds sinister," Ashley remarked. "What happens?"
Maria shrugged. "Depends. See, this one time—you never heard this story." This statement was directed at Jeff. "This one time, Melina comes into the locker room, covered—and I mean covered—in purple paint. Don't ask me how; I don't know. And when I ask what happened, you know what she does? Smacks me in the face and storms into the showers." Maria leaned forward, her voice growing low and conspiratorial. "So while she's in the shower, scrubbing all that paint off...me and the other girls steal all the towels!"
She and Ashley burst into giggles. Only Matt saw a peculiar expression pass over Jeff's face, saw him shift uncomfortably in his seat.
The Dirty Diva gradually calmed down, leaning back in her seat. "Well, I should be heading back to the hotel." She glanced at Matt. "You and I both. You—" Ashley pointed at Maria. "—are coming with me. We must go forth and gossip and irritate Matt by giggling like little girls."
The elder Hardy brother rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Great, just great. If you need me, I'll be in the bathroom, making a noose to hang myself with." This comment earned him another elbow in the side, courtesy of Ashley. "Ow! Geez!"
The SmackDown Diva smiled sweetly back at him. "Serves you right."
Matt gingerly rubbed his wounded side, glanced across the table at his brother. "You coming too, man?"
"Actually…" The Rainbow-Haired Warrior hesitated for a second. "Actually, I think I'll hang out here for a bit."
Matt shrugged. "Suit yourself. Call me if you need a ride. Knowing these two, it'll be forever before they calm down."
"Okay, Dad," Ashley replied, rolling her eyes. The Dirty Diva grimaced. "Ew, wait, I take that back. That just took everything to a really creepy place."
Matt grinned. "Serves you right." He scooted out of the booth so that the SmackDown Diva could get out.
Jeff, meanwhile, turned toward Maria, gathering her to him in a hug. "See you tomorrow?"
Maria returned the hug. "Tomorrow. How about we carpool together?"
"Sounds great." The Charismatic Enigma pulled back, planting a soft kiss on her lips. "Have a good night."
"You too." As soon as Maria was out of the booth, Ashley laced her arm through hers, and the two of them strolled off, chattering away, Matt following behind like an unwilling chaperone.
Jeff watched them go, his smile fading as soon as they were out of sight. The younger Hardy brother leaned back against the vinyl seat, sighing. There was no denying that he'd had a great time tonight. He always enjoyed hanging out with his brother, and Ashley was like a badass little sister. But sitting there with Maria, and watching the two of them—it was an unwanted reminder that what Matt and Ashley clearly had, he just didn't feel when he was with Maria. And no matter how many times he tried to tell himself that these things took time, that feelings like this developed gradually…he was beginning to think that he would never feel that way about her.
Jeff studied the other people in the club through half-closed eyes. Suddenly, his green irises widened and he sat up as a familiar flash of color flitted across the background. Granted, it was dark, and it was only a glimpse, but still…it couldn't be…
The Rainbow-Haired Warrior rose to his feet, moving in the direction of the elusive flash of color. He wouldn't know for sure until he found out, and if for some reason, it did turn out to be the Dominant Diva…
Well, then, he was certainly not going to pass up any opportunity to pay her back for what she had cost him.
Melina wept, pressing her face to the glass. Through the haze of alcohol, she still possessed a very strong sense of self-awareness, and right now, she was wondering just how she'd managed to go from the A-List Diva to the drunk girl crying in the corner. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, everything had gone straight to hell, and there was no way that her night could possibly get any worse.
"Nice boots."
Scratch that—it just had.
Sniffing loudly, the paparazzi princess crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to afford Jeff Hardy so much as a glance.
The Charismatic Enigma was unfazed, however. He moved toward her, sarcasm dripping off his words. "See, I would know—'cause the last thing I remember about that match is seeing one of them rushing toward my head." Another beat, another step. "But you wouldn't know anything about that…would you?"
Normally, Melina would have chosen her words carefully, constructing her sentences so as to inflict the maximum amount of damage. But right now, she was drunk, and it was through this fog of tequila and sorrow that her words spilled out unrehearsed. "Fuck you, loser," she slurred. "Why don't you just go back to your shitty motel and bang your bimbo girlfriend?"
Jeff flinched, but not from what she had said. Melina was drunk, but beneath that, she was upset—really, genuinely upset. This anger, it was just a front to mask how miserable she truly was—and he was pretty sure he could guess the reason why. But recognizing this first glimpse of actual emotion in the Dominant Diva was not enough to make the Rainbow-Haired Warrior stop. Melina had put him through too much—and besides, it wasn't like she would have taken pity on him.
The younger Hardy brother moved closer, lowering his voice in mock sympathy. "What's the matter, princess? You break a nail?" He leaned down, until his lips were almost brushing her red-brown tresses. "Word of advice—get over yourself."
That did it. Melina whirled around, glaring at the Charismatic Enigma. Jeff had to jump back to avoid knocking heads with her. "Shut up!" the paparazzi princess shrieked. "Just shut up, Hardy!" She pointed at him, jabbing her finger into his chest. "You don't know me! You don't fucking know me at all!" She swayed unsteadily on her feet, almost falling, and Jeff quickly reached out to grab her arms, steadying her. Without thinking, he jammed his face into hers, his green eyes locking onto her brown ones.
"Oh, I don't?" the younger Hardy brother answered fiercely. Words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I bet I understand you better than anyone else. See, I think that you want everyone to believe that you're cold as ice, that you don't care, that there's nothing here—" He let go of her arm, reaching over to touch the spot just above her heart. "—because that's easier. It's easier than convincing everyone that you do care; that you actually feel bad about the shitty things that you do. Because that would mean admitting that you actually have a heart—and you can't do that, princess. It's not that you can't feel; it's that you won't."
Melina struggled to free herself, but Jeff hung on, pulling her closer to him. He could smell the warm scent of her skin, could feel its soft texture beneath his fingers. It was distracting, but he kept talking—because he wasn't finished yet. "See, princess, I think that, deep down, you even care about me. That you feel…something…when you look at me." The Rainbow-Haired Warrior let out a bitter laugh. "Because, believe it or not, princess…I feel it when I look at you."
At this, the Dominant Diva stopped struggling. She stared up at Jeff, her mouth hanging open. Her expression wasn't angry or spiteful or haughty; it was…stunned. And her eyes, when they met his, were perfectly clear and lucid, as though the haze of alcohol had parted just enough to allow her to comprehend this one moment, this single outpouring of emotion.
Jeff let go of her arms, reaching up to touch her face. Her cheek was soft, velvety, damp with the moisture of her tears. Without understanding why, but unable to stop, Jeff dipped his head down, covering her lips with his.
At first, he tensed up, certain that a second knee to the groin was sure to follow. But then he felt Melina's mouth melt open, felt her body press against his, and the Rainbow-Haired Warrior realized that this was definitely not a repeat of last time. The Dominant Diva clung to him, pressing her hands against his chest. Jeff heard her soft moan of need, and answered it with a groan of his own, burying his hands in the silken weight of her hair.
He had no idea how long he kissed her, or how long she kissed him back; all he knew was that suddenly, Melina was pulling away, backing up from him. Her expression was a confused mixture of emotions, and she didn't seem to know where she was. Tentatively, Jeff reached out toward her. "Melina…" he murmured.
The paparazzi princess swatted his hand away. "Don't touch me!" she exclaimed, but there was no anger in her voice. "Just…just don't touch me." She turned away, and Jeff caught her final remark just before she wandered off into the crowd: "I think I'm going to be sick…"
For a moment, Jeff actually considered going after her, but he quickly nixed that idea. He had to remember that Melina was drunk; once she sobered up tomorrow morning, she wouldn't remember any of this. And even if she did…it wouldn't change anything. They would still be enemies when the sun came up tomorrow morning.
The Charismatic Enigma stood there, lost in the memory of her scent, the taste of her lips. His head was still spinning from that kiss, and he felt electrified, as though someone had hooked him up to a car battery. He had kissed her…and she had kissed him back.
He was playing a dangerous game; he couldn't forget that. He had kissed his enemy's girlfriend, fully aware that he was doing so, and if news of this got back to Nitro, or to Maria, then people were going to get hurt. Besides, this was Melina, the woman who had cost him the Intercontinental Championship tonight, the woman who had gone out of her way to make his life miserable. If he was smart, he would forget about this; go back to Maria and forget this ever happened.
But Jeff Hardy wasn't thinking about any of that. All he could think of, the only thing he was aware of, was that he had kissed Melina…and Melina had kissed him back.