A/N: THANK YOU TO EVERYONE FOR THE FEEDBACK & MESSAGES! AS PROMISED HERE IS CHAPTER 2! ENJOY!

DISCLAIMER: I DONT OWN WWE, ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS OR RIGHTS!


The Stratus mansion was eerily quiet that morning. That was the first thing, Trish Stratus noticed, as she very carefully and thoroughly made her way down the stairs and into the massive marble kitchen. Breathing a sigh of relief at the lack of other certain household members, Trish quietly pulled a water bottle from the stainless steel fridge, careful in her movements as she softly shut the door back.

"Patricia?"

Damnit. There goes her morning.

"Patricia, honey, is that you?" Came the slurred voice of one Alice Stratus, rounding the corner, in her silk pink robe, her signature martini already in hand. "Oh, Sweetie, don't you look so precious!" She pinched Trish's cheeks for emphasis, drowning down the rest of the contains in her cocktail glass. "Is that the new cheer uniform?" She gestured towards the younger girls attire, already pouring more gin into her glass.

"Yeah.. it is. Don't you think, it's a little too early to be drinking?" Trish looked down at her phone, showing the screen to her mother. It read, '6:30am'. Don't get her wrong, this wasn't exactly an unusual scene—there were plenty of times where she had walked in on her mother, face first on the sofa, glass bottles all around the living room carpet. But as far as, Trish knew, her mother had recently gone on a small break from all things alcohol. A spiritual cleanse, as her mother had referred to it.

"Your father comes back from his business trip, this afternoon," came the bitter laugh of Alice Stratus, swishing around the gin in her glass, going back to taking long sips.

Trish felt her heart drop to her stomach, at the announcement. Well, that explains it.

Her father, John Stratus, was a very serious businessman. He was a hard worker, no one could deny that much—he periodically, traveled long periods of time, a fact that left the Stratus women, undoubtedly relief. But whenever, he had to come back home, it was a different story altogether. She couldn't remember when it started, or why even—but her father turned into a monster whenever he was home. Glasses breaking, insults directed towards both women, lots and lots of liquor. He often got physical with Alice, turning her face black and blue, not a single care in the world for the pain he inflicted on his wife. And then there was that one time, this past summer.

Trish had just gotten home from cheer camp, and already she could hear her father shouting, and the cries of her mother. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, squeezing her fist as tightly as possible, feeling her nails break the skin on her palms. Don't get involved, Patricia. Her mother's words rung clear in her head. Breathe in and out, in and out. But the cries and shouting never stopped, this was her life. She felt her feet move before her mind could catch up, walking over to where her parents stood, watching as her father delivered the final blow to her mother. The sick snapping noise the hit produced echoing through the large house. She watched as her father pulled his hand back, ready for the next hit. She suddenly couldn't ignore it anymore, as her own hand reached out to stop his. He turned back, angry eyes glaring at the intruder and without warning he hit her across her face, hard and full of intent. She could taste blood in her mouth, the right side of her face stinging with a godawful pain. Her father sneered at her, showing his teeth—he was an untamed animal. 'Pathetic' he growled out before leaving the two women alone in the living room. Holding her face, Trish turned to her mother, seeing the damages her father had inflicted on her beautiful face. Her mother just laughed, and laughed, her hand resting on her blood covered nose. "Well, I always did want that nose job," she continued to laugh as the blood dropped down her face and onto the white carpet beneath their feet.

Her mother would always downplay their situation—'Trish, look at the mansion we live in! Who do you think paid for all this? He bought me a custom diamond encrusted necklace, Patrica!' Her mother was a materialistic woman, a drunk whose only concern was her social status and lifestyle. What Trish's father did to them, was nothing compared to what he could provide for them.

The morning after the incident, there was two identical Porsches sitting in the driveway, big red bows over the hood of the cars. Her mother squealed with excitement, hands clapping as she rushed over to kiss her husband. Trish never spared a second glance at the car—she wasn't her mother, she couldn't be bought. The stinging bruise on her face wouldn't let her forget so easily.

She was snapped back to reality at the sound of her mother's pills bottle, watching as the woman carelessly tossed two little pills down her mouth, washing it away with her martini. "I don't think you should be mixing those, Mom," Trish reached for the orange bottle, a concern look on her face. She felt sorrow and anger for the woman who stood before her; Trish knew she was a victim, but what she didn't know was why she allowed for the abuse to continue. Why didn't she fight back? Why would she allow this life for herself, for her daughter? Were the private trips and lavish gifts really worth it?

"Didn't you hear a word I said? Your father is coming back home this afternoon," Her mother snatched the bottle out of Trish's hands. "Make sure you come straight home after your little cheerleading thing. I wanna have a real family dinner," She slurred.

"You don't even cook," Trish replied.

"I'll get us some takeout then! There problem solved!" Alicia shouted.

Trish rolled her eyes in response, deciding it better than to argue with the woman. She definitely wasn't going to seat around and act like a happy family just because her fucked ups parents wanted to.

…LINEBREAK...

The first thing, Trish, noticed as she walked into homeroom that morning, was that her seat was now occupied by some guy with a blonde buzz cut. The second thing, was that the seat behind him was also now empty, no signs of her red head best friend. Just then the bell rang, signaling the start of the day. This was going to be a long day. Sighing, Trish took the empty seat beside one Jeff Hardy.

She remembers the lecture starting, but she couldn't tell you much more past that. Her mind kept going back and forth to what transpired that morning, and the incident last summer. Trish always knew the only escape she could have from her little hell at home, was to quite literally get the fuck out of the Stratus mansion. She had already drawn up a plan, she was smart like that. She was going to apply to every university out of state. She had carefully been planning every little thing for years—perfect GPA average, after school curriculums, and she did some community service last year at her local recreation center. Maybe she should run for class president this year? But she knew Stephanie McMahon was a shoe in for prez. Maybe she could talk her into allowing her to be her running mate? They had those right? Trish chewed on the end of her pen, deep in her own thoughts. She almost, didn't notice the blonde boy from earlier, turning around in his seat to stare at her.

"Uh.. can I help you?" She asked the blue eyed man. Not another one, she thought.

"Wanna be partners this semester?" Came his reply.

Partners? Her brain froze—what did she miss? Damnit, Trish, so much for keeping up in class.

"Sorry, Cody, we already paired up." Trish's head snapped towards the deep voice of Jeff Hardy, watching as he gently pulled her desk closer to his own.

Cody Rhodes simply rolled his eyes in response, turning back in his seat and choosing to pair up with Kevin Owens instead.

"Thanks," Trish quietly replied. Relieved that she wouldn't have to risk her grade, at being partnered up with someone who was simply interested in getting in her pants.

"No problem," Jeff answered.

"Hey, Jeff," Trish called, not all too ready for when the boy in question turned his head to face her. He had on a white bandana, his blue hair neatly tied back. The look offered a clearer view of his face, he looked handsome. Snap out of it, Trish, you're acting like a thirst bucket. "Where's Amy?" She asked.

"She didn't tell you?" He replied. "She had to move some classes around to fit her music elective," Jeff answered.

"Oh," Came Trish's disappointing reply. That traitor. She'd have to give her a piece of her mind at their game today, for not mentioning it to her.

"Look, I know, I'm not the ideal partner for this project, but if you want to go ahead and pair up with someone else, you're more than welcome to, Trish," Jeff said with a soft smile.

"No, Jeff, it's fine," Trish softly replied, offering the boy a smile of her own. "But uh.. mind filling me in on what project we're talking about here? I kind of checked out earlier."

Jeff chuckled, pulling out a sheet of paper, scribbled with messy handwriting and placing it on Trish's desk. "Modern day Shakespeare, we have to pull inspiration from one of his works and come up with our own modern day interpretation," He replied.

Just then, Ms. Runnels, approached the two, handing a card over to the pair. "Trish and Jeff, you two will be assigned the tragic romantic tale of, Romero and Juliette." She smiled, walking off, to assign the other pairings.

"Wherefore art thou, Trish?" Jeff teased.

He was a dork. A very hunky and handsome dork. Stop it, Trish, this is your English partner. Just focus on getting a good grade.

"So, where should we met to work on our project?" Jeff asked. "Mine or yours?"

Definitely not hers. "Yours," Trish replied, pushing back some of her blonde hair behind her ear, scribbling something down on a piece of paper. "We can meet up after the game tonight?" She asked, handing him the piece of paper with her phone number. She would've given it to any partner, she tried to convince herself. Grades first, Trish.

"Cool. I'll wait for you outside by the gym parking lot." He replied

"So, when were you planning on telling your best friend, that you switched out of our only shared class this semester?" Trish walked with Amy Dumas, both girls carrying around their duffel bags. The football game had just ended and both girls had been there to cheer on the sidelines with the rest of their teammates.

"Didn't I mention it to you?" Amy asked.

"No, you must be thinking about your other blonde haired bestie—Adam perhaps?" Trish replied, teasing Amy on the growing bond with their mutual friend. Everyone had noticed how close Amy and Adam had become that summer, and there was that nasty rumor after Torrie Wilson's party. Candice and her minions sworn they saw Adam and Amy making out by his car. Amy told them all it was just one big misunderstanding, she was drunk and could barely walk, Adam was simply being a good friend and helping her into his car. Candice was just up to her usual pot stirring mess, plus Matt Hardy, Amy's longtime boyfriend believed her. So why wouldn't everyone else?

"Adam and I, are just friends," Amy replied.

"Never said you weren't," Trish shot back.

"Yes, but we're just friends," Amy said.

"How are things with Matt?" Trish asked.

"Okay…" Amy sighed, not wanting to get too into the troubles of her relationship with Matt Hardy. Sure, she loved Matt, but lately she had been asking herself if she was in love with her boyfriend? Matt was a great guy and they had been dating for two years now, her family and friends loved him. But she wanted more from Matt—she wanted him to want more for himself too. More than just Cameron, North Carolina, more than just busting tables at the local diner, getting high and playing video games. When he got held back and was forced to repeat his senior year, Amy hoped it'd be the turning point to get him focused and wanting more—for them, for him. But Matt just went back to his same ways.

The two girls walked out into the September air, still chatting about the miscommunication. Amy stopped at the sight of Jeff Hardy leaning against his beaten up red truck. "What's Jeff doing here?" Amy asked.

"Oh," Trish stopped in her tracks, avoiding her friend's eyes. "I don't know," Trish lied.

"Huh, is that so? Well, let's go find out," Amy said, walking up to her long time friend, pulling an annoyed Trish behind her. "Jeffery, care to explain what you're still doing on school grounds?" Amy asked.

Jeff snapped his head up, his eyes moving between Amy and Trish. "I'm here for, Trish," he replied, a smirk on his face.

"Oh? Is that so?" Amy turned to her blushing friend, a knowing smile on her face. "Hmm, now, who's the one keeping secrets from their bestie," Amy replied, playfully bumping her shoulder into the other girls. "Well, if you two will excuse me, I've got some homework to do," Amy said. "Jeff, Trish, have a goodnight," she winked at her friends.

That red head traitor.

"Your chariot awaits, m'lady," Jeff tapped the hood of his truck, walking over and holding the passenger side of the door open for Trish.

….LINEBREAK...

They sat in a comfortable silence, the radio offering some background noise. Trish stared out the window, watching as they drove through the suburbs and into the rural side of town. Every now and then, she'd sneak glances at the driver. One hand on the wheel, the other casually hanging outside the open window, the wind blew back some of his blue hair, his bandana keeping it away from his eyes. He was quietly singing along to some song on the radio.

'you're a sunflower, I think your love would be too much."

She felt something that could only be described as butterflies in the pity of her stomach. On second thought, maybe, she should've taken Cody Rhodes offer up on partnering up—because this, whatever this was, felt dangerous and too risky. What was she getting herself into? What was Jeff Hardy doing to her?

"We're here," Jeff smiled, driving up to a large plot of land where a nice little house sat in the middle. He turned the car off, stepping out and over to Trish's side, opening the door for the girl. She offered him a smile at the gesture, that's all she could really muster at the moment. Get it together, Trish—this is Jeff Hardy, he's harmless.

She followed him up the wooden porch and inside the house. The smell of hot chocolate and was that cinnamon buns? Filled her senses, she had just been here the other night, but somehow everything felt different. It felt like a home.

"There you are boy," came an older voice, from the kitchen. An older man with oven mittens appeared, an apron tied around his waist, and a big warm smile on his older features. "Jeff, boy, don't be rude! Introduce me, to your pretty lady friend."

"Trish, this is my father, Gilbert Hardy." Jeff replied.

"Gilbert is too formal," The older man brushed off, coming over and looping his arm around Trish's own. "Please call me, Gil," he replied. He lead them into the kitchen, where they could already hear some commotion going on.

"There's no way, you can fit a full cinnamon bun into your mouth!"

"Watch me!"

All three walked into Matt Hardy and Shannon Moore, egging on Shane Helms into fitting a whole cinnamon bun into his mouth. Shane in return was halfway through his mission before his eyes fell on their new arrivals. "Jeff? Is that Twiiish Stratus?" He struggled with his words both at his disbelief of their company, and partly due to the sweet dessert blocking his mouth.

Trish giggled in response, allowing Gilbert Hardy to guide her to the table full of hunger boys, sitting down in the chair the older man had pulled out for her. Gilbert took the seat right next to her, pushing the plate of warm cinnamon buns towards Trish, throwing a kitchen towel at Shane in the process. "Clean yourself up you animal, we've got company," Gil said, the rest of the boys laughing. "And Jeff, don't just stand there, pour the girl a cup of hot chocolate. I tell ya, you throw one beautiful girl into the mix and these boys forget all about manners," he said. "Please eat up."

Jeff came back, holding two mugs of hot chocolate, he placed a mug in front of Trish. Sitting down in front of her, he took some sips of the hot chocolate, careful studying her, watching as his father fawn all over her.

"Don't mind dad, he's recently got into the Food Network," Matt teased, ducking his head as his father aimed a towel in his direction as well.

"So, Stratus, huh? As in, Mayor John Stratus?" Gilbert asked, recalling what Shane had uttered out earlier through a mouthful of dough.

Trish forced a small smile on her face, nodding her head as she answered the older man. "Yeah… Trish Stratus, daughter of Mayor John Stratus," she confirmed. She expected at some point sooner or later the relation would come up—they lived in a small town, of course, everyone knew who the mayor and his family were. But Trish just wish she could escape any association with the man she called her father. He was no good.

"I didn't vote for him last election." Gilbert said truthfully.

"Dad…" Jeff sighed, rolling his eyes, already knowing the older man was about to get into one his political rants.

"I wouldn't have either," Trish giggled, taking a slow sip from the hot mug, her eyes meeting those of Jeff's.

"I knew, I liked you," came the laughter of Gilbert Hardy.

"So, Trish, what brings you around into Hardy land?" Shannon Moore asked, he had been observing the little interactions between his best friend, Jeff Hardy and the blonde girl. He was like another brother to the Hardys, he and Shane Helms. It was no secret to him that his best friend had always harbored a crush on Trish Stratus. He was proud of his friend for finally putting himself out there, Jeff was one of the good guys, and Trish was the perfect woman for someone like Jeff, or at least he thought so.

"We're panthers this semester for AP English," Trish answered.

"Ms. Runnels, assigned us a Shakespeare piece to rework," Jeff said.

"Anyone else think, Ms. Runnels is a total MILF?" Shane asked seriously, much to the humor of everyone else around the table.

Matt reached over, smacking Shane on the back of his head. "So, how pissed was Amy over you choosing Jeff as a partner instead of her?" Matt asked.

"Amy switched out of our class," Trish replied.

"Oh… she did?" Matt asked, trying to hide his surprise from everyone else. It was too late. "She must've forgot to mention it to me," Matt tried to shrug off like it wasn't a big deal. Amy must've simply forgot to mention it to him.

"When are you going to accept that she just isn't that into you anymore," Shannon said.

"Nonsense! Of course she is, right Trish?" Gilbert asked the young girl.

"Trish?" Matt called, getting antsy at her lack of response.

Trish bit her bottom lip over the awkward moment, eyes cutting to Jeffs and searching for some kind of assistance in the matter. Amy was her best friend, and Matt was his brother, she didn't want to go into murky waters. This wasn't her conversation to have.

"We better get started on our project. We're going to go work in the basement," Jeff replied, standing up and walking over to Trish, grabbing her small hand and leading her out of the tense kitchen and towards the basement door.

"Thanks…," Trish breathed out, following the boy down the stairs.

"I do believe this is the second time I've come to your aid, Stratus," Jeff turned around at the bottom of the stairs, leveled with Trish as she stood on the last two steps.

"Guess that makes you, my knight in shining armor, Hardy," she joked, lightly placing her hand on his chest. Her breath caught in her throat at the intense look on his face. She could feel his heart beating fast under her palm, her heart fluttered in response. When did she get so daring? Get a hold of yourself, Trisha. Stick to the plan. Oh, God, is he moving in close? His lips looked so inviting and he smelled so manly.. earthy and clean, like an escape… escape! The plan!

"Got any ideas for our paper?" Trish didn't miss the disappointment on his face, as she took her hand back and walked further into the room. She took a seat on the black leather couch in the center of the room, placing her phone on the coffee table beside an ashy tray, pulling her laptop from her bag.

Jeff flopped down on the sofa, his eyes on Trish. He could still feel the heat her touch had left on his chest, her smell so intoxicating, her lips had looked so inviting. She was so close, yet so far away, he knew she was different than any other girl he had ever met. That's what made her so special and interesting, but he could take the hint and he wasn't sure how Trish felt about him… did she feel the same magnetic pull he felt? Does she know she takes his breath away? Did she not feel the moment they just had? Jeff snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of Trish typing away on her keyboard, deciding to focus on the task at hand, the moment they shared now a distant memory, Jeff pulled out a notebook and pen.

…..LINEBREAK..

They had been sharing ideas and concepts for the last 40 minutes, with Jeff writing down possible characters they could use and their respected descriptions. Trish focused on potential plots, already having three of them perfectly plan out on her screen. She appreciated him taking the project as serious, nothing was worse than a partner who didn't pull their own weight, and she especially appreciated him not bringing up the moment they had. She was determined and focused on her own plan, good grades were a big part of that. She didn't have time for any distractions, she wasn't a normal girl, with a normal life.

"Do you mind if I spark up?" Jeff asked.

"Pardon?" Trish replied, looking up from her screen, she saw him waving a joint, a sheepishly smile on his expression. "I don't mind," Trish answered truthfully, they had been working hard and it was getting pretty late, they'd probably have to call it quits soon and pickup tomorrow. She saved the file on her laptop, shutting the screen, she set it aside. She scooted further into the comfy couch, watching as Jeff brought the lighter up to the joint in his mouth. She watched as he took the first hit, he lean his head back onto the sofa, his mouth forming into a small 'o' as the smoke effortlessly left his lips. She could see his sharp jaw from her position, his light beard was designed in a unique pattern something she had never seen before, she also wasn't sure anyone else could pull off the look as well as Jeff Hardy.

"Do you want to take a hit?" Jeff asked, extending his hand out towards her with the sparked joint.

She took it with no reply. Jeff shifted his position on the sofa, he moved so his back now rested against the arm of the couch, his arm resting on the back of the furniture. He watched as she took careful pulls from the joint, her plump lips releasing smoke into the small basement. Her big brown eyes found his, a shy smile as she went to hand him back the joint. He wonder if she knew how beautiful she looked.

"So what's it like being the mayor's daughter?" Jeff asked, taking the joint out of her hand, ignoring the spark he felt as his fingers brushed against hers.

Trish froze at the question. She could never escape her father… not in this town, at least. That's all she'd ever be around here; the mayor's daughter. "It's…. It's interesting," she quietly replied, avoiding his eyes. "He's not warm and friendly like your father… he's different," she replied. Her hands had taken to the pillow on the sofa, fingers tracing the design on it, anything to keep her from thinking about her father.

Jeff noticed as she tensed up, retrieving into her shell. He wanted her to open up to him, he wanted to get to know her better, break down her walls and show her that he was worth it. "Yeah, my dad's great," Jeff smiled fondly at the thought of his old man. His father has done a wonderful job at raising both he and Matt, as a single father nonetheless. "He does his best, so we don't feel the absence of mom," Jeff replied quietly.

"How was she?" Trish asked, moving in closer as to not miss anything.

"The best," Jeff answered. "She was always your biggest supporter, there was nothing she couldn't do," he said. "Whenever Matt and I would fight, she'd step in with her broom to separate us. Matt and I, were a handful," he laughed softly at the fond memories. "She was beautiful and kind."

"She sounds lovely," Trish replied, reaching out and giving his knee a soft squeeze. She appreciated him sharing something so sacred with her.

He looked up and smiled at her, handing her the joint. "Can I ask you something?" He asked softly.

"Sure," Trish replied, taking a longer drag from the join.

"Why don't you have a boyfriend?" Jeff asked the one question that was on everyone's mind.

Trish almost didn't hear him, as she chocked on the smoke that was meant to leave her lips. Smooth, Trish, real smooth. She started coughing shortly after.

Jeff got up and walked over to the mini fridge on the far left, coming back over with a water bottle, handing it to Trish. "You okay?" He asked, his hand taking the joint from her and the other resting on the small of her back. He rubbed small circles on her back, hoping to help relieve some of the discomfort from nearly coughing her lung up.

Her throat finally cleared up, but the feel of his hand rubbing against her skin was doing things to her again. She felt hot all of a sudden. She twisted the cap of the water off, taking greedy sips of water as she tried to compose herself again. Had he really asked her that? And when had he gotten so close? She wasn't sure if it was the high messing with her, but she felt his smell suffocating her senses, she could feel the heat radiating off from his simple touch. Get it together, Trisha.

"I'm not against dating, I just don't get the notion of love," Trish explained, averting her eyes towards the ground, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Jeff asked.

"It's just… love doesn't feel safe to me, it's not a sure thing. One day you convince yourself you're willing to give your all for someone, and the next you hate them because they can't live up to the pedestal you placed them on," she said, chewing on her bottom lip, she shifted her attention back to him, waiting to see what kind of reaction he'd have to her words. She wasn't a cynic but any means, she was just a realist, or at least that's what she told herself. "And since love is the next step after dating…naturally, of course. I don't want to waste mine or anyone's time." Love was a distraction. It was an excuse to attach yourself to someone else, to fill the void of loneliness, it wasn't real. Her parents were very much so evident of that fact, look at Matt and Amy! She didn't need some stupid boy coming into her life, fill her with empty promises and dreams, she was all she needed.

He carefully took in her words—she wasn't wrong, per se—Jeff himself had never been in love, but that didn't mean he was against the idea. "Love isn't supposed to be safe," he replied, his green eyes clashing with the deep browns from her own eyes. "Whoever you fall in love with will hurt you, but that's all part of the experience, Trish. Love isn't supposed to be perfect, it comes with mistakes and important lessons, but if you close yourself off to the idea of love, you'll never get to experience the beautiful and great parts of it," he replied.

"Yeah… maybe," Trish replied. Jeff Hardy was a poetry, he had a way with words. "Enough about love," Trish laughed. "You fight, right? Like MMA?" She asked.

Now it was Jeff's turn to take in a deep breath, retreating his hand from her back, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Yeah… something like that," he replied, placing the nearly finished joint on the ashtray.

"What's that like?" She asked.

"It's different. It's not really something I ever saw myself doing, but it's a job," he replied truthfully.

"Do you like it?" She questioned.

"I like the pay," he laughed. "I know I'm good, probably one of the best, if you believe all the chatter from the inside," She loved listening to him talk, so confident but still so shy. "But that's not why I do it," Jeff replied. "For every fight I do, that's about two thousand dollars cash, and for every fight I win that's another thousand dollar bonus," he explain.

"Wow, that's actually really great, Jeff," Trish replied. "So, tell me, what does a seventeen year old boy like yourself, do with all that money?" she was genuinely interested—sure, she herself came from a lot of money, and she probably lived in this biggest house in town, but none of that was hers. She hadn't earned a penny of it.

"Nothing," he shrugged.

"Nothing?" She raised an eyebrow at his response, he had her full attention. "Oh, c'mon, no crazy purchases? No fast cars? Strip clubs?" She joked.

"Seriously," he laughed at her suggestion. "All of it… uh, I give it all to my dad," he answered. "It hasn't been easy on him, raising two boys on his own—the older he got, he did his best, but it was never enough. Matt tried pitching in, but he could only do so much," Jeff explained.

Jeff Hardy had her respect. He was selfless, he put others before him—quite literally. She appreciated how honest and open he was being with her, and she wanted to give him something back. Something that showed him that she too could trust him—but she couldn't bring herself to open up about her own struggles. In the end, Trish simply settled for placing her hand over his own, his green eyes set on her brown ones. He was beautiful. "I think that's awesome, Jeff," Trish smiled.

He smiled back, turning his hand over so her hand feel on top of his open palm. He laced his fingers through her own delicate fingers. A mix of pale inked skin and soft tan skin. It felt right, Jeff thought. "C'mon, pretty girl, let's get you home," Jeff said quietly, giving her smaller hand a tight squeeze.

….LINEBREAK.

"I'm telling you, mint chocolate ice cream is sociopath behavior!" Trish said.

"And pineapple on pizza isn't?" Jeff argued.

"You might as well be eating toothpaste, you cannot convince me otherwise," she laughed.

The conversation they had been having on the ride back to Trish's house, was different from the one in the basement. It was light and friendly, all laughs and silly banter.

"You just haven't had good mint chocolate ice cream," Jeff laughed, he was standing firm on his stance.

"Whatever you say," Trish teased, playfully rolling her eyes.

They came to a sudden stop, already outside Trish's home. Jeff put the car on park, whistling at the large house. "Now, that's a house," Jeff said.

"I think, I like yours better," she replied quietly.

He turned to her, quirking a brow, asking her to continue.

"What I really meant, was I just really like your dad," Trish teased, hoping to get him to drop her earlier choice of words.

He took the bait. "Not quite the Hardy, I was hoping you'd fall for," Jeff teased back, laughing quietly to himself at the blush now forming on Trish's face.

That smooth bastard, Trish thought.

"Well, I better get going," she said, unbuckling her seatbelt and opening the door. She hopped out of the truck, closing the door behind her, Trish leaned over the open window. "Thanks for the ride…," she started. "and for sharing your story with me," she bit her lip, looking at him through her lashes.

He smiled back, looking back at Trish. "Thanks for listening," came his soft voice.

"Goodnight, Hardy," she said, moving away from the car, walking backwards, sharing one last look with the blue haired boy.

"Night, Stratus," Jeff replied. He refused to drive off until he was sure she made it back inside safely. When he could no longer see her, he drove off, a huge smile on his face.

….LINEBREAK.

Trish couldn't shake the wide grin on her face, as she closed the french doors behind her, she leaned against the door. Her mind already back on Jeff Hardy. 'Not quite the Hardy, I was hoping you'd fall for' his words replayed in her head. Was he flirting with her? Jesus, Trish, what are you getting yourself into? But Jeff Hardy was different, she reasoned—maybe things could be different with him?

She was so deep in her thoughts, that she didn't notice the person sitting in the corner of the foyer. Her heart almost fell out of her chest when the lights suddenly turned on.

"You missed our family dinner," Her father, John Stratus, came out of the dark.

"Sorry, I got caught up working on a project for class," Trish mumbled, hating how small she felt in his presence.

"You should've called," John replied, walking up towards his daughter.

She could already smell the alcohol off him, and judging by the broken glass pieces she could see from the kitchen's floor—she had apparently missed the after dinner entertainment as well.

"My phone died," she lied.

"Why is your car still sitting in the garage?" He pushed back some of the hair away from her face.

She froze, she didn't want to say the wrong thing to set him off. "Uh… I'm not sure, I like the color," she said the first thing that came to mind, the fear stopping her usually quick thinking.

John Stratus laughed, taking his hand back and walking off. "You're definitely your mother's daughter," he said before disappearing back into the kitchen.

She just stood there frozen in her spot. The plan, the escape… she had to stay focused. She had no time for silly distractions—no time for love… no time for someone like Jeff Hardy.


A/N: R ? XOXO