Damn.
Mother.
Fucking.
Christ.
Chris wasn't supposed to win. I mean, I know he was *supposed* to win by script, but he wasn't. Supposed. To. Win. I was supposed to be in control of this game. I set the rules. I had made up my mind.
Just bring it, yeah right. Great fucking plan, 'Rock.'
Everything is still a blur. All I can remember for sure is the way his hands felt as they glided across my sweat-soaked skin. The blue fire that flared in his eyes when I stood in front of him after the match. The smell of his unique scent. The still fresh taste of his flesh on my lips.
I wanted to flee from the ring. I wanted to tuck my tail and run. I wanted to hide the wanting in my eyes as stood across from him and handed him that chair. I wanted to him to want me.
I'll be damned if I got anything I wanted.
Or did I get everything I wanted?
I saw it in his eyes, just like I always had, but it seemed different for one brief moment. Like all of a sudden he had forgotten about that bastard and saw only me. Then it was gone, and I watched as he pathetically searched for a face that didn't care. I am glad I hadn't had a mirror with me, because, Jesus, I know I would have seen the same look in my eyes for Chris.
It took everything I had not to melt into him. Not to shout "HE DOESN'T FUCKING WANT YOU!" in front of every single god damned person in St. Louis. As it stands, I am glad I made it to the back without falling flat on my face, because I could still feel his body pressed against mine as a cleared the curtain.
Soon after, I felt him pat me on my shoulder and say something, but I have no damn clue what it was. 'Good match' maybe? Hell, all I could comprehend was that for once I was actually the one he was smiling at, that his hand was still on my shoulder as we walked. It was like a new level of fire on my already hot skin, the way his nails grazed slightly across my shoulder blade as he let his hand drop, rattling on with a huskiness I had never heard in his voice.
Jesus, I could get used to this. I mean, we have always been pretty friendly backstage and on the road, but that's just it- this wasn't just friendly, though. I actually saw a spark in his usually dead blue eyes. And, God, you have no fucking *clue* how it made me feel to know that I was the one that put it there.
There just aren't enough correct words to describe it.
It's homemade ice cream on a hot summer day.
Fresh strawberries.
The fiercest whiskey coating your throat.
Heaven.
Then it was gone, and I was in the fiery pits of Hell. Rage overtook me and I swear to GOD I was shaking violently. I had to be. Because somehow in the brief moments that I had been lost in just the sound in his voice, it wasn't there anymore. Oh, I could still hear it, but it was slightly muffled by the tee-shirt clad shoulder of...
Of...
Hunter Mother Hearst Fucking Helmsley.
Well, fuck me.
I couldn't move as I watched them have their celebratory hug. Yeah, great fucking friend you are, Hunter-you know he eats, sleeps, and breathes you, and you still do shit like this to him. God I hate you, you fucking bastard. Nothing I ever did to you even compares to what...
"Hey, Rocky." I heard a cocky voice, and I am broken out of my internal rant. I glare up at the man I hate more than anything on this fucking planet, and his smart-ass smirk died a little on his lips. Let me tell you, if I could have stopped myself from bolting right passed them, if I had had any control over my own two legs, I would have killed that bastard right then and there. Yet here I am, laying on a very uncomfortable mattress in my hotel room, wondering what the fuck I am doing wrong. Why doesn't Chris want me? Jesus, I have been the only constant sanity in his fucking life, and he just tossed me aside- AGAIN- for a man that couldn't give two shits about him.
I know what your thinking, though. I already said that I don't love Chris either, right?
I have to remind myself of that every minute of everyday, you know. That I don't love him. That I just want to prove that I can attain the unattainable. That I am going to be the one to tame the Lion, simply because I can.
And I am so full of shit. You know it, I know it, and if I have to beat Chris over the fucking head with a brick to get him to know it, then that's exactly what I plan on doing.
