*Cinnamon & Vanilla - Chp3*
*By JM*
"You're quite the joker Trish," Jeff chuckled, refusing to liberate
her hand as he lowered her bag onto the floor. He found a seat on the
couch in the room and found it hard to amputate the smile from his face as she
stood over him.
She smiled on him, tilting her head until locks of her blonde hair
draped over her face. She blew them back with a quick breath and winked at
him, emotions coiling in her stomach. She would definitely have to discuss
these feelings with Amy when she returned.
"So are you training to be a standing model or is this all for me?" He
joked again and she rolled her eyes this time. She lifted her head and
hooked her thumb into the belt loop of her jeans. She glanced into the
vanity mirror behind Jeff and something about them together just looked
right.
"Release my hand and I'll start getting ready for my promo," she
insisted, eyes still lifted to look into the vanity mirror. When he unwrapped
his fingers and drew back, the image seemed to fade into a dense thought.
Wasn't that reality? Wasn't it just Trish Stratus and Jeff Hardy, two
separate people sharing one hotel bed night after night?
"Sorry," he said lowly, pulling down the brim of his hat as she moved
away. She stiffened a little at the drop of his voice. She didn't want him
to apologize or feel guilt. No, not when she had so many feelings burning
inside of her, begging to be released and become a part of him.
"Just teasing you Hardy," she grinned, leaning down in front of him to
unzip her bag. He didn't laugh and her grin soon faded. She tilted
her chin up, let her eyes roam over the shadows that caressed his eyes and
darkened his skin. She traced the wild designs of his goatee and
searched his pink lips for a delicate smile. It formed in a slow, blossoming
fashion, leaving her to recreate her own.
Trish pulled her make-up bag from her luggage and stood, tossing her
hair behind her shoulders. She lingered there for a moment, admiring him in
some semi-romantic fashion that left her stricken with feelings that were
foreign to her. She was sure she could've easily disposed of the feelings, but
she didn't really want to. She liked the way the blood rushed to her head
and her fingers felt that small tingle that made it hard to concentrate on
truly valid thoughts. It didn't help that he looked up and smiled at her
with barely visible green eyes.
She moved away with speckles of blush rising to her cheeks again.
She'd never be able to apply her make-up and fix her hair properly with him
sitting there, quiet with that adorable child-like composure glowing
through the room.
"Why didn't you just go down to the hair and make-up room and get
ready?" Jeff questioned her, spinning around on the bench as she approached the
vanity mirror. She laid her make-up bag on the counter and scrubbed
her fingers through her flaxen mane.
She could speak the truth. She knew she could, but it made her feel
so weak to even have the thoughts she did.
"Then I wouldn't get to spend time with you before the match," she
replied, her voice curtained by the uncontrollable shyness that ruled over her
heart. She could've sworn she was never girly, not before being around Jeff
Hardy. She was sarcastic, goofy, tomboyish. What was this?
"I'm flattered," Jeff chimed, sliding his cap off of his hand with one
fluent movement. He shook out his bluish-green locks and sighed,
enjoying the cascading grin that trickled over her pink, glossy lips.
Reflections were never enough for him. Trish didn't speak. She didn't have the audacity to say anything. It was probably because she felt she had already said too much. She didn't know what she was thinking, what gave her the strength to say the words she did. Those were words meant for a boyfriend, not a Jeff Hardy.
Trish brushed her hair back and gathered up her make-up. She could
feel his eyes through the mirror and faint goose bumps rose up on her golden
skin. It wasn�t easy getting ready while he was in the room and when
she bent down to stuff the make-up bag back into her travel case he spoke
again. "What are you going to wear for all of those guys to gawk at tonight?"
Jeff wondered his voice timid with small hints of wariness. Trish offered him a crooked grin when she looked back up. She shifted through her bag a little and lifted up a wildly designed pink bikini bottom. She twirled it around in front of him for a moment, watching the way his eyes grew with intrigue and caution. The mixture tugged at his lips, leaving them shaped in a frown.
"You're not too upset are you? It's not like..." Trish knew not to
say it. Where would she get with the words? It wouldn't change much. It
might even cause Jeff to leave and that was definitely not an option she
wanted to toy with. Jeff leaned forward, loose strands of his bluish hair falling over his cheek. He reached out and let his thumb and forefinger cup her chin, a tepid smile skating over his lips. He could faze the feelings if he
wanted to. He wouldn't let Trish feel what he felt, see what he saw, love
what he loved. "I think you'll look great, doll. Just as long as you feel
comfortable and smile for me, I'm not upset," he insisted and did her skin get just a little bit warmer. He thought it did because she leaned up and her lips
barely grazed against his. Her hands were on his thighs for support and he
grinned, breathing in her breaths while dancing in her eyes.
*Chp4*
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