Chapter 13
"So how many colors are in your hair?" Trish asked, pulling her
fingers through Jeff's wet hair. How she ended up in this position, she wasn't
quite sure. She thinks that maybe he started it when he crawled into
the bed while she was watching television. He was still a little damp from
his shower and his hair just seem to spread across her lap like peacock
feathers. She didn't fight him when he laid his head in her lap,
resting a hand on her knee while he too watched the television with little
concern. What were they watching anyway? "I don't know. I lost count three dyes ago," Jeff chuckled, relaxing on the bed while his feet hung off the edge.
"It looks like someone mistook your head for an Easter egg," Trish
giggled, lacing her fingers through the silky locks. She didn't mind the colors though. It gave it a uniqueness that only he had. Something beautiful
with a touch of gothic.
"Matt keeps telling me to let it go back to my natural hair color but
Amy says I should keep it the way I like it," Jeff muttered against the
fabric of her jeans. He ran his hand over the denim and swallowed a smile.
It felt nice to be with her like this. And they were still friends.
"She's right," Trish said softly, her hand stopping its steady motion
in his hair. Amy was right. Jeff lifted his head some and glanced back at her, a diminutive frown tugging at his lips. "Why do I have the feeling we're not talking about my hair anymore?" Trish turned her head and glanced at the lamp, its luminous glow offering some sort of escape for her. She lowered her eyes to glance upon the candle Jeff had lit before he went to shower. Its shape had changed, a small puddle of dried wax on its holder. The flame still flickered, melting away more of the original shape to reveal a more artistic object. Something was written in that candle wax, something for her.
"Are you going home during this little break that we have?" Trish
asked, her voice grower quieter. She dared to run her fingers through his
hair again, thoughts of nothing but Jeff ravaging her heart. "Yeah. I'm going to go see my dad and then get all of Beth's shit out
of my place. It's just easier that way," Jeff responded, head still
lifted to look upon her. She merely nodded, keeping her focus on the candle.
"Will you be going to see your family?" Trish turned to glance at him when he began to climb upward, resting next to her on the bed. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she was scared. Did he know what she thought? Could he feel it? The sudden emotions? The feeling of lose? The battle within? Could he feel it all? "Yeah," she sighed out, looking into his eyes. This world wasn't safe anymore. It wasn't a haven. It was becoming her prison.
Her escape? A kiss. Just a small one, but one that resembled the one
they shared during the summer. It was one that contained little bursts of
excitement, little spots of passion, little smudges of expression. Her
lips felt nice against his, felt right. Maybe it was the position? And had
his hand starting rubbing over her shoulder, removing a strap of her white
top? She felt high, lost in some fancy world of modern bliss and euphoric
delight. She placed a hand on his cheek when her lips began to part and she
felt the questions arising inside of her. She silenced them by looking away
from him, retreating from his body to lay her head on the pillow, small
tears creeping into the corners of her eyes. Her lips were still wet from
his. His flavor still lingered there, waiting for her tongue to slip out and
taste it. What was she doing?
"Goodnight Jeff," she whispered through pain and closed her eyes,
curling up on the bed. Jeff laid an arm across her hip and thought to speak. Words weren't good enough at the moment. She had kissed him. She had done it again, like in the summer. He felt those uncontrollable feelings again and it was thanks to her. But why? He had asked Stephanie and Vince during the summer about the kiss. It was scripted. It wasn't supposed to happen. Trish had improved. She had written the line for herself. She had kissed him
and she had expressed silent, echoing words of desire in only a few moments.
Yet, again, she retreated.
Morning, in its own seasoned elegance, was the closest thing to escape
that Trish could find. She sat in the hallway, bags waiting next to her
while Jason chased Lance down the hallway, leaving Matt, Amy, and Chris
laughing wildly. "Vince should book this as a match on Monday's Raw. The first ever chasing match," Amy joked, arms wrapped around Matt's neck as they hung out of the doorway of Matt's room. Everyone in the hallway laughed loudly but
Trish just sat there, chin on her knees while waiting on Adam to finish
toting his luggage into the hallway. "Assistance is not a bad thing princess," Adam teased, lugging one of his heavier suitcases into the hall. Trish looked up and forced a smile for him. "You lose one match and all of the sudden you're helpless?" Adam snickered quietly and found a seat next to her on the floor. He scooted his legs back when Lance came trampling down the hall, now
being followed by Jason and Stacy.
"I will kick your little Canadian ass if you don't bring back my
fucking bra," Stacy barked out, fleet feet carrying her behind Jason. Again,
the others laughed while Trish sat back with no expression. "You seem a little stressed princess. Are all the matches getting to you?" Adam wondered, scooting closer to the woman he had known for almost three years. It was hard to say there were anything less than brother and sister. Of all the Canadian wrestlers, outside of Adam and Jason, Trish and Adam had the deepest connection. They fit well together, but not in the romantic sense. Just the friendly kind. Just the way she thought she and Jeff were.
"No, it's not the stress of all the ring work. It's something else,"
Trish said, her voice low and her eyes hooded. She wasn't making it easy
anymore. She let her eyes run over the hallway and then he appeared. He stood
in his doorway, hair sweeping over his shoulders with her black cowboy hat
dangling between his thumb and index finger.
"Or is it someone else?" Adam wondered, nudging her with an elbow.
Trish lowered her eyes from Jeff and refused to respond. She couldn't. Jeff
was not getting to her. He had no control over her, no hold on her heart.
He was just her friend. "Adam..." "Look, Trish, I've known you for a few years. I think you are capable of making the right kinds of decisions in your life. Look at how far you've come in your career. Just think of how far you could come as a person if you just opened the doors a little," Adam said freely. He never did withhold things from her. He was always forward with her, something she needed. Trish nibbled on her lower lip and watched Jeff retreat back into his room. She frowned when he starting pushing the door shut. She wouldn't see him for how many days? And then what happened on Monday? What happened when they began the roster split?
"It's Jeff. I can't be a part of his life," Trish whispered, letting
her head thud against the wall behind her. She wanted to be numb, to be
unaffected by Jeff's action. But it hurt more. It hurt that she left
his bed before he had arose from his night slumber. She ached when she
gathered her clothes and fled the room without giving him a farewell, without
touching those lips like she had the night before.
*Chp14*
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