Chapter 6
Trish slammed her hand on the wall and refrained from screaming. It
wasn't going to help. It wouldn't change anything. She would still be
missing the respect she deserved and Torrie would still be apart of the Federation.
Life could never be a bigger bitch than Torrie Wilson.
"Fuck," Trish moaned, a realization brushing away all thoughts of
Torrie and Stephanie. The night could be better, right? She didn't have to
go through this. Not when she wrestled with these emotions that she had
for Jeff Hardy. Not when she needed to remove all thoughts of Torrie from
her mind. "Need help?" His voice wasn't soothing, but it was something. Tingles
caressed her skin and she knew that wasn't right. She wasn't supposed
to feel that.
"I forgot that Adam has my bag in the van and my key is in it," Trish
hissed, lowering her head with defeat. Did he have to see her like
this? She heard him giggle and maybe it was just a little bit funny. Trish
Stratus locked from her hotel room? It was sure to be a illustrious
joke for the other WWF Superstars. But no one else was there. She glanced
down both ends of the hall and found no one. No one except Jeff Hardy. He
was there; tepid grin on his lips with eyes of exotic green that
unintelligible words to her.
He leaned against the wall next to her, his wifebeater tightening on
his muscles as he folded his arms, exposing the bizarre artwork that
decorated his forearm. His rainbow-shaded hair was pulled into a ponytail again
and a new bandanna covered wrapped around his head, covering the wild designs
on the sides and back of his head.
"Look Trish, obviously this isn't the most ideal idea, but..." He was
hesitant about finishing his sentence because she was looking at him
and small tears had begun to line her eyes. Was she truly that frustrated?
It just didn't seem possible. "You can stay in my room if you want. I can take the floor and at
least you'll have someplace to stay until the morning," he said, words
growing softer as he spoke. Now he was the shy one. Her narrow hazel eyes said enough. It wasn't the most ideal idea. He
turned his head and Trish didn't feel guilty, just unsure. She drug
her fingernails against the fine wood of the door and sighed. Torrie was
starting to seem a lot nicer than life.
"Maybe I should go and see if the front desk workers are still here so
we can get your door open," Jeff suggested, slinking away with a bemused
expression drawn upon his face. He ran his fingers through his hair
and gave her one final glance but it was hard not to. But he didn't know
why.
"Wait, don't bother Jeff," she insisted, her hand lifted to call him
back. He stood still and it didn't surprise her. Why did she have to be that
way to him? It wasn't entirely his fault. He didn't know what it was that
made him so mysterious to her. He had no idea what ignited those
uncontrollable emotions inside of her. He just existed.
"Are you sure?" He had to question her, didn't he? He had to be
certain because trouble could arise. He could be steeping into territory that
was unsafe. He could be watching Trish Stratus walk toward him and then
passed him, walking slowly toward his room. But that was no longer a could.
Trish felt slightly awkward about the situation, but she wouldn't let
it show. Her hair was down now, most of it resting behind her head while
she brushed the rest. The blonde locks fell from her hand as she scooped
up more, eyes locked on an object of interest.
She was confident that he didn't know she was standing there, in the
doorway of the bathroom, watching him as he prepared himself for bed.
His head was down as he leaned over the sink, strong hands collecting water
under a running faucet. His black nail polish held such a grand
contrast to the pale skin of hands. She watched the water trickle off his nails as
he splashed the water onto his hands, the shock of the heat leaving him to
pant lowly. Strands of his water dropped over his face, clouding his eyes
as he placed his hands on either side of the sink and looked up into the
mirror. Drops of water slipped from his face like the rain, splashing into the
sink without effort. It was gorgeous and almost animalistic the way he
looked into the mirror, accelerated breaths puffing out his cheeks. What was
he thinking? Where did his mind wonder?
Jeff shoved locks of his hair back, a natural crease in his brow
causing Trish to watch with more content. His upper body was exposed, small
trails of water floating down his chest as he stood upright. When he went to
move his arm, he flinched and there was definite pain in his expression. He
flexed his arms a little as he looked closer into the mirror, pliant
pink lips forming a small pout when her reflection appeared.
"Thanks for letting me borrow some clothes," she spoke up, shy in her
approach as she crossed the threshold of the bathroom. She lowered the
brush in her hand and tossed her hair to one side as she did when she
made her entrance into the ring. She smiled while he kept a steady
expression.
"I think the shirt looks better on you," Jeff remarked, eyes watching
the way the baggy Wrestle Mania jersey hung off of one shoulder, exposing
the strap of a black bra and her golden skin. She giggled softly for him
and his eyes drifted some, watching the blue flannel pajama pants hang off
her hips as she sauntered around the bathroom.
*Chp7*
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