Egotistical, Extraordinary, Etc.
She reads Hemmingway.
He's somewhat astonished by that fact, even though he shouldn't be. For the first time in thirty - closer to thirty-five, but who's counting? - years, he's actually interested in a chick...without having the prior benefit of having banged her, that is. He is fascinated, and he stares.
The blood and thunder of the book has wrapped her up in a scarlet world. He still has the power to reach her - not as quickly as he would like to. But she notices him sometime before the bell has tolled.
Her smile is shy, and she holds her place with the tip of her nail. "Chris, have you been staring at me?"
He smiles. "Well, I either look at you or I stare at the back of Flair's head. And I already know how many dark roots he has, so..." He patted the empty seat beside him.
She glances warily about. "Where's Christian?"
Somewhat startled, Chris admits. "Oh...I don't remember seeing him after Dusseldorf."
"If he stayed behind with Lita in Frankfurt, you can tell me. I'm not going to tell on him to Blackjack."
"He's going to chew Jay's ass out."
"Well," she folds her tray up, crosses the aisle, and settles down beside him. "They didn't figure it out during the head-count. If the two of them make it to Berlin tomorrow, everything will be fine." She suddenly takes notice of his appearance and giggles. "That's so cute!"
Chris frowns at her, then remembers what he's wearing; an oversized denim mob cap. "Your head doesn't ever get cold?"
She shrugs, "I'm Canadian. We never get cold. I don't know what happened to you..."
"Two years in Florida?" He says facetiously
She smiles. "I've been thinking of moving there. Is it as nice as everyone makes it sound?"
His pulse quickened. "It's pretty good. Except for the rain. One time it rained the entire month, and a mudslide took out my deck."
"Ouch."
"Yeah." He tilts his head, "Hemmingway? I haven't read him since high school."
"Oh, he's not my favorite thing; I'm trying to...I don't know. Improve my brain."
"I like your brain the way it is."
"Uh-huh. I'm sure that's what you like best about me."
His grin turns cocky. "It's not the first thing I noticed about you. But you can't build a relationship on terrific racks and washboard abs. Or so I understand."
"I'm going to take that as a compliment."
"You should."
She closes her book on the arm rest between them. "Back to high school; what did you like to read?"
He hesitates. "Honestly? Playboy. That was all that really held my interest." She doesn't smirk or scoff, but her eyes hold a world of amusement. "They give you books like this at the wrong time, man. No one's ready to think deep thoughts when they're sixteen."
"General, but kind of true," Trish folds her leg beneath her seat. "I was ready for it then, and I'm ready for it now."
"So you're always ready?"
She laughs. "You like to dirty everything up. I like it."
He props his elbow against the bus' window, sharing this laugh with her. She shivers and, impulsively, he takes off his denim jacket. When she protests, he shrugs.
"You need that more than I do. Where's your hearty Canuck blood now?"
"It's trampled, after spending all of this time in Germany."
A temporary silence rests between the, which broke as the bus coasted beneath an overpass. She turns her head in the dim darkness to find Chris ripping a sheet of paper from an old magazine, stowed in an overnight bag. He hands her a pen.
"Ever played this game?"
"Which one? Would you like me to check 'yes' or 'no'?"
He sighs in exasperation. "No. You sum up the person sitting next to you in one word."
Trish glanced to her right and the vacant seat there. "Aha. Do we count to three? Or declare a thumb war?"
"No, just do it...and don't peek."
She smiles, shaking her head and lowering it to the task at hand. She finishes a moment before he does, and waits with her hand over the word, smudging it slightly.
"You first." He insists.
"Are you sure?"
"Yep."
"Well...remember, this is sort of an...overview...of how I see you..."
He squints at her feminine script. "Egotistical?"
"You call yourself the king of the world, Chris. I'm sorry if that's the first thing that pops into my head."
"That's only because I'm the most awesome specimen in the history of the sport!"
"Except for Lex Luger."
"Ha ha. Want to see what I wrote down?"
"If it's 'boobtacular', I'll cry."
His hand moves and, in his haphazard script, lies one word.
"Extraordinary?"
He meets her with a gaze that could melt diamonds. "That's you in one word."
Her hands fall guiltily from the tray, to her lap. "I think we've got a lot left learn about each other."
"Don't feel bad about it, Trish. We're just starting out." His hand finds her; cold, a bit clammy from nerves, but responsive to his touch.
"I know. But there's one thing I already know by heart. It doesn't take any work to realize it, either."
"What?"
She leans over the armrests, pressing her lips to his. And they're warm enough to heat his entire body.
When they part, she concludes, "you and me.