She stepped with light feet and anything but an arrogant smile. She
deserved this feeling. Her constant training, her relentless effort,
her
passion for the sport. There was definite satisfaction in her
endeavor.
It took but a small grunt and then a soft voice cursing into the air
to
distract her from her thoughts. She slowed her pace and let her eyes
drifted, the scenery slightly darkened by the area she was in. She
stopped
and folded her arms.
It was him; no one else but him.
He was youthful in the fading
fluorescent
glow. His hair was slick, dressed in a careless ponytail on the top of
his
head. His coat ruffled as he tried to lift his bag, slipping from his
left
shoulder to expose reddened skin. His sideburns were a dusting of hair
in
some odd design that she never understood but never detested. His
upper lip
curled and his brow furrowed as he tried to lift the bag again,
struggling
to keep his other bag strapped to his body. He needed her.
"Jeff..." Just the name was something she could never shake. She
never
thought she really liked him. He was a good person, a free spirit. He
never treated her like she was anything other than a female wrestler.
He
always spoke softly around her, unlike when he was around Adam and Jay.
He
was a bit timid, yet still very confident in his own skin. She could
only
define him as Jeff Hardy.
His green eyes lifted and they were filled with poetry never written, just thought of. He didn't smile and he didn't frown. He just stood one
hand still on the strap of his bag while the other peeled wild strands of
hair from his face. "Do you want a little help?" He didn't speak, she did. That's how it always started. Any conversation between the two, she always
initiated. She often wondered if maybe he just didn't like her and that's why he kept to himself around her? It was possible. Then again, he was Jeff Hardy and no one really understood Jeff Hardy.
She was next to him before he could mutter any type of formal response
and her fingers grazed his as she tried to lift the bag. She wasn't that
strong."No, no, Trish, I've got it. It's okay," he finally responded and his voice was still soft. It was still like that sun-filled breeze that
used to caress her skin as a child. The feeling was inescapable.
She watched him struggle again, her hand still gripping the strap but
never aided him. His arm brushed against hers and she smiled. She knew he
couldn't do it on his own. Not tonight. He had a look of pain in his
expression and she couldn't resist. She helped him lift the bag.
"They must've really hit your head hard this time Jeff Hardy. If you
really think you can lift your bag in your current condition then I'm
going to have to ask Vince to cancel your next match with the Dudley's",
Trish said and she faltered at his offbeat smile. She's not sure she's ever really seen him glow like that before but she won't take that away from him. He hesitated at first and maybe he didn't want her help? Maybe she misjudged his smile and gave into something that wasn't friendly?
"Thanks," he whispered and lifted the bag with her assistance,
carrying it toward the large exit he was headed toward in the beginning of his struggle.
