Playing With Fire - 5/? - T - Lita/Orton
Title : Playing With Fire
Chapter : 4
Pairing : Lita/Orton
Diclaimer : I own Jack Shit.
Warnings : I totally disregard storylines after this chapter - the speech from the Highlight Reel is the exact words spoken by those characters involved.
Summary : She had no choice: if she wanted her career back, she had to join them. She had to give everything up and become one of them. An Evolution / Lita fanfiction, set in 2003/2004
Previous parts : Parts 1 - 3 Part 4
Randy sat on the double bed, the bag of food placed in front of him as he began unpacking it. “I got these plastic forks from the place but they don’t look very, you know, reliable,” the St. Louis native said, two white packaged boxes now sitting on the red covers. He produced the plastic forks which he spoke of and showed them to the confused looking diva. “Do you have any metal ones?”
“What are you playing at, Orton?” Lita asked, one eye brow raised, her hand still placed on her hip. She glanced at the open door and, slowly, moved to close it, turning back to the wrestler on her bed once she had heard the door lock with a click. He grinned back as he opened one of the boxes, taking a sniff - and resultantly poking around in the box with his plastic fork - before placing it back down on the bed, his face scrunched up.
“I’m getting you dinner, didn’t I just explain that?” he said, picking up the other box and opening it, delving into the contents with a fork without even glancing at what lay inside. “That one’s yours, if you wanna get started?”
“No, Orton, I mean what are you doing getting me food and acting like some bloody knight in shining armour?” The diva was relentless and made no attempt to sit down and share the food with her new ‘partner’. “If I had wanted food, I’d have gotten it.”
“Just thought you could do with a hand. After the whole thing with us and Matt - I saw your face Lita, you looked terrified when you looked at his face - and then…Well, we heard what happened with you and Trish…”
“How’d you know about that?”
“Victoria told Dave.”
“Oh…”
“So do you want those noodles? They’re just plain noodles. Mine have chicken - I didn’t know if vegetarians ate chicken…”
“Pollo-vegetarians eat chicken.”
“Are you one of them?”
“No.”
Randy did not reply to this and, instead, wound a large portion of his chicken noodles around the unreliable fork and bundled as much as would fit into his mouth. The wrestler chewed loudly but - and Lita was thankful for this - with his mouth closed. After finishing his first bite he turned to the diva, winding yet more noodles around his fork and said, “It’s gonna get cold, you know…”
“I don’t want your stupid noodles, Orton,” the diva replied. She knew - thanks to Dave’s words from earlier that night - that Randy was ‘no gentleman’ and she knew he had to want something in return for the noodles. “But the question is,” she swallowed hard. “What do you want?”
“I want some salt,” he replied simply before glancing at the slowly bending fork. “And maybe another fork.”
Lita took a deep breath before turning to stare at the door. Were they waiting outside, trying to trick her? It seemed like a very ‘Evolution-esque’ trick to play. “Look, Orton,” she said, her attention back on the wrestler who’s fork had now completely wilted, the man staring hard at the fork he had left out for the diva. “Just get out.”
“Why? I try and do something nice for the newest member of Evolution and what happens? You’re throwing me out of this room like I just suggested anal on a first date…”
The redhead desperately wanted to laugh but showed no outwards signs of this as she moved towards the door, opening it slowly. “Take your stupid noodles and go,” she said, watching as Randy’s gaze left the chicken snack and moved towards her. “I don’t know who you think I am - or what kind of girl I am - but I am not going to hop into bed with you just because you buy me some cheap fucking noodles.”
“Can’t a gentleman just treat a lady once in a while - especially when they’re going to be working together?”
“A gentleman can. You can’t, not without wanting something in return.”
With a scoff, Randy got to his feet and, without so much as another word, he bundled his noodles, his fork and the plastic bag together and passed through the door. Standing on the opposite side of the door he turned to face Lita. “You think very highly of yourself, I’ll give you that,” he said, shaking his head, trademark sinister smirk marring his otherwise handsome features. “But remember, darlin’, you’re one of us now. Like it or not, you’re owe us and you’ll have to deal with us each and every day : Ric, Dave, Hunter, me… It would be in your best interests to keep us on your side, don’t you think?”
And with that, he left.
- - - - - - - - - - -
“Lita, its me, Lilian. Please answer your phone. I need to know you’re alright. Are they forcing you to do this? Are they hurting you? Why didn’t you tell me? Call me, yeah? Just let me know you’re safe.”
- - - - - - - - - - -
“Hey Lita, Trish told me what happened between you two last night. She says you actually wanna be one of those…you wanna be associated with…those…those bastards.” There was a small silence as Rob took a deep, calming breath. “Get in touch, Li. Tell me she’s got it wrong…”
- - - - - - - - - - - -
“So that’s why you’ve been ignoring my calls? Who is it? Batista? Orton? Tell me it’s not Hunter…Anyone but Hunter. You have my number - obviously, since you’ve been screening my calls - and…look, fuck it.” There was a pause before the voice added, “Its Christian if you didn’t know…”
- - - - - - - - - - - -
“We fly into Maine on Sunday afternoon - we’re staying at the Hilton. You are too.”
The following Sunday came far too quickly for the redhead and, suitcase in hand, she stood just outside the door of Maine’s central airport. The diva sighed, looking this way and that as she searched for the Evolution limo - her transport for the following few days. Maine wasn’t exactly the warmest state and, considering she had been waiting for little over thirty minutes, the diva’s teeth chattered as she did her best to keep warm. “Excuse me?” the voice was quiet, timid almost and, turning to see where it came from, Lita came face to face with a young boy, no older than ten and dressed in a ‘We Lie, We Cheat, We Steal’ shirt. “You’re Lita aren’t you?” The boy seemed scared to intrude but beamed at her when the newest member of Evolution smiled and nodded. “Can I have your autograph?”
Taking the kid’s pen and flight ticked, the redhead signed her name elaborately. “There you go,” she said, handing back the ticket after signing a final kiss. “I hope that’s a used one, mister?”
Grinning shyly, the boy nodded. “My brother’s called Billy,” he said. “And he said you wouldn’t sign my ticket. He said you were in Evolution and that you were a bitch.”
“Well you can just tell Billy that he can fuck off, can’t you?” Lita snapped, her anger getting the better of her. It was safe to say that she hadn’t realised what she had said until she saw the boy’s expression change. He was no longer timid or even smiling, he was terrified, hurt that a superstar would behave in such a way. “I’m sorry…” she called out as the young boy ran off, leaving the signature at his heels as he hurried to tell his brother that he had been right - Lita was a bitch.
And then she heard it - a clapping noise, closely followed by a low chuckle. “You really did a number on that poor kid, huh?” The voice was coming from the wound down window of a limo parked just behind her, Hunter’s face grinning up at her. “Maybe you’re more like us than you’d care to admit?” The diva opened her mouth to retort but the blond silenced her. “Get in. We’re going for dinner.”
With a roll of her eyes, Lita left her suitcase with the limo driver and slid into the seat closest to the now open door. A nod of the head from Dave and a ‘hello, Princess’ from Ric was the only acknowledgement or welcome she received as the car bean to move. The diva wondered where this ‘princess’ trend had come from but, accepting that there were many names - all much worse - that they could be calling her, decided not to ask. “So where to?” she asked, the first time she had initiated conversation with the men.
“I’m feeling something spicy,” said the largest man in the car. “How about Mexican?”
“Yeah and you can wash your chilli down with your Malibu, can’t you?” Randy said and, for a minute, Lita was sure that he was angry. Slowly, however, a smile spread across Dave’s face and he pushed at his younger friend’s shoulder is a typical jocular fashion. “Fine - Mexican it is but, really man, you gotta start drinking something a little less fruity.”
“I like what I like,” Dave said simply. “What about you, Lita - Mexican okay with you?”
“Mhmm,” she muttered, slowly remembering that these were not friends she was amongst and that she should not be so keen to let her guard down.
“She lived down there for a bit,” Randy spoke over her, gaining confused looks from everyone - including Lita herself. “What?! I read it in her book…” Dave and Ric seemed to accept this answer but Lita frowned. He knew much more about her than she would have liked.
“You can read?” Hunter laughed as Randy scowled back at his mentor. Once more, Lita was plagued with the urge to laugh but, instead, chewed on her lip to prevent this from showing. “You in pain or something?” Hunter asked, drawing the attention to her. Shaking her head, Lita was left alone for the duration of the car ride.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
She had to admit that she had missed Mexican food : Trish and Lilian didn’t enjoy any form of spice and, having never learned to cook Mexican-style, the last time the diva had eaten Quesadillas had been at Jeff Hardy’s birthday, three years previous. Enjoying her cheesy meal, the diva sipped on a glass of water having reused the house wine which Ric had tried to ply her with - she had not thought it wise to drink alcohol around the members of Evolution. On the other side of the table was Randy who had worked his way through a vast chilli dish who’s name he couldn’t pronounce and who’s size he could believe and was now swinging back on his chair, beer in hand. “So where we going from here?” he asked, a wicked glint in his eye.
“I aint heading no where tonight, kid,” Ric said, setting his knife and fork on his plate. “My back’s been playing up this past and if I wanna be in action at all tomorrow there’ll be no dancing for me.” Winking, the white-blond man pushed back his chair. “You four go on, though…”
“I’ll pass tonight, too, actually,” Hunter said, looking pensive. “We need to start planning, huh, Ric?” Ric nodded, leaving Lita wondering what they were planning.
“Just us three then?”
“Actually…”
“Nuh-uh - you’ve got to come,” Randy turned to Lita, rapidly. “You’ve got to do everything Evolution does.”
“Well its not exactly an ‘Evolution’ thing if only two of you are going,” Lita grinned over her glass as she took a long sip.
Randy looked to his mentor, hoping he would contradict the only female of the faction. “She’s got a point,” he said instead, resulting in a smug smile etching itself onto Lita’s pretty features. “She doesn’t have to go if she doesn’t want to.”
Lita raised an eyebrow - as smug as currently felt, Hunter wasn’t the type of guy to agree with her or take her side. Casting a fleeting glance between Hunter and Randy, however, she was reminded of the previous Monday evening and was glad of Hunter’s intervention.
“Now if everyone’s finishes, I’ll be getting the bill,” and with that, Dave left.
“That’s not fair, Hunter,” Randy said in a hushed voice almost the second Dave was out of earshot. “He’ll stand around, drinking that Homo-shit and I’ll be left looking like one of them too…Have you seen the way he dances, Hunt? Have you?!”
It would only be Randy seeing Dave’s dancing that evening as Lita, Hunter and Ric all clambered into the limo, heading straight for the Hilton. Sure, the diva had stayed in nice hotels before - she wasn’t exactly some cheap ass - but the Hilton, or perhaps this one in particular, was divine. The sheets were soft, the pillows plump and there was a box of chocolates waiting for her on the nightstand. This, she thought as she dropped her duffle bag to the floor, re-adjusting the position of her suitcase, is something I could definitely get used to. “Your friends are just to the side of you, Miss,” said the bell boy who had originally brought her suit case to the room. “Mister Orton is in the room to your left and Mister Batista to your right. If you need anything just dial R20 on the phone provided, that puts you straight through to the reception desk. Now is everything okay?”
The diva nodded and, leaving her alone, the bell boy closed the door behind him. It didn’t take the redhead long to curl underneath the large bed covers, more comfortable than she had been in a hotel room in months. “What are you doing, Lita?” she asked herself aloud, thinking of all the voice mail messages she had received - her friends were worried, she was letting herself in for something much bigger than she could ever have imagined. “This isn’t you…”
But she did not worry herself too much with this idea as she fell asleep soon after, the warmth from the covers, the comfort from the pillows dragging her into a deep slumber.
It couldn’t have been that deep, however, for at twenty nine minutes past two, exactly, she was woken up by a loud - and very female - cry from the room to her left. This ‘cry’ was repeated, louder and louder each time and the redhead pulled the pillow over her head. Just as she was losing the will to live - and contemplating ending Randy and his new found ‘friend’s’ life - it stopped with a guttural groan from her new ‘partner’. Silence now on both sides of the wall, Lita found herself returning to her state of slumber.
Just over four hours later - at seven o’clock - the redhead’s eyes shot open and she pressed the ‘end alarm’ button on her iPod. Motorhead was not a band she was particularly fond of - even less so since she had joined ‘Evolution’ - but she was even less fond of them when they were her morning alarm. She went about her morning routine - her showering, moisturising and, finally, dressing - without a hitch until, when pulling on a pair of grey socks, she noticed a white paper on the floor, as though it had been pushed through under the door.
The redhead moved towards it and slowly picked it up. The paper bore the Hilton header on the paper and any hopes that it had been from Trish were soon gone. Instead of Trish’s neat script, with it’s I’s and J’s dotted with love hearts was one word, an untidy scrawl reading : Jealous?
Chapter : 4
Pairing : Lita/Orton
Diclaimer : I own Jack Shit.
Warnings : I totally disregard storylines after this chapter - the speech from the Highlight Reel is the exact words spoken by those characters involved.
Summary : She had no choice: if she wanted her career back, she had to join them. She had to give everything up and become one of them. An Evolution / Lita fanfiction, set in 2003/2004
Previous parts : Parts 1 - 3 Part 4
Randy sat on the double bed, the bag of food placed in front of him as he began unpacking it. “I got these plastic forks from the place but they don’t look very, you know, reliable,” the St. Louis native said, two white packaged boxes now sitting on the red covers. He produced the plastic forks which he spoke of and showed them to the confused looking diva. “Do you have any metal ones?”
“What are you playing at, Orton?” Lita asked, one eye brow raised, her hand still placed on her hip. She glanced at the open door and, slowly, moved to close it, turning back to the wrestler on her bed once she had heard the door lock with a click. He grinned back as he opened one of the boxes, taking a sniff - and resultantly poking around in the box with his plastic fork - before placing it back down on the bed, his face scrunched up.
“I’m getting you dinner, didn’t I just explain that?” he said, picking up the other box and opening it, delving into the contents with a fork without even glancing at what lay inside. “That one’s yours, if you wanna get started?”
“No, Orton, I mean what are you doing getting me food and acting like some bloody knight in shining armour?” The diva was relentless and made no attempt to sit down and share the food with her new ‘partner’. “If I had wanted food, I’d have gotten it.”
“Just thought you could do with a hand. After the whole thing with us and Matt - I saw your face Lita, you looked terrified when you looked at his face - and then…Well, we heard what happened with you and Trish…”
“How’d you know about that?”
“Victoria told Dave.”
“Oh…”
“So do you want those noodles? They’re just plain noodles. Mine have chicken - I didn’t know if vegetarians ate chicken…”
“Pollo-vegetarians eat chicken.”
“Are you one of them?”
“No.”
Randy did not reply to this and, instead, wound a large portion of his chicken noodles around the unreliable fork and bundled as much as would fit into his mouth. The wrestler chewed loudly but - and Lita was thankful for this - with his mouth closed. After finishing his first bite he turned to the diva, winding yet more noodles around his fork and said, “It’s gonna get cold, you know…”
“I don’t want your stupid noodles, Orton,” the diva replied. She knew - thanks to Dave’s words from earlier that night - that Randy was ‘no gentleman’ and she knew he had to want something in return for the noodles. “But the question is,” she swallowed hard. “What do you want?”
“I want some salt,” he replied simply before glancing at the slowly bending fork. “And maybe another fork.”
Lita took a deep breath before turning to stare at the door. Were they waiting outside, trying to trick her? It seemed like a very ‘Evolution-esque’ trick to play. “Look, Orton,” she said, her attention back on the wrestler who’s fork had now completely wilted, the man staring hard at the fork he had left out for the diva. “Just get out.”
“Why? I try and do something nice for the newest member of Evolution and what happens? You’re throwing me out of this room like I just suggested anal on a first date…”
The redhead desperately wanted to laugh but showed no outwards signs of this as she moved towards the door, opening it slowly. “Take your stupid noodles and go,” she said, watching as Randy’s gaze left the chicken snack and moved towards her. “I don’t know who you think I am - or what kind of girl I am - but I am not going to hop into bed with you just because you buy me some cheap fucking noodles.”
“Can’t a gentleman just treat a lady once in a while - especially when they’re going to be working together?”
“A gentleman can. You can’t, not without wanting something in return.”
With a scoff, Randy got to his feet and, without so much as another word, he bundled his noodles, his fork and the plastic bag together and passed through the door. Standing on the opposite side of the door he turned to face Lita. “You think very highly of yourself, I’ll give you that,” he said, shaking his head, trademark sinister smirk marring his otherwise handsome features. “But remember, darlin’, you’re one of us now. Like it or not, you’re owe us and you’ll have to deal with us each and every day : Ric, Dave, Hunter, me… It would be in your best interests to keep us on your side, don’t you think?”
And with that, he left.
- - - - - - - - - - -
“Lita, its me, Lilian. Please answer your phone. I need to know you’re alright. Are they forcing you to do this? Are they hurting you? Why didn’t you tell me? Call me, yeah? Just let me know you’re safe.”
- - - - - - - - - - -
“Hey Lita, Trish told me what happened between you two last night. She says you actually wanna be one of those…you wanna be associated with…those…those bastards.” There was a small silence as Rob took a deep, calming breath. “Get in touch, Li. Tell me she’s got it wrong…”
- - - - - - - - - - - -
“So that’s why you’ve been ignoring my calls? Who is it? Batista? Orton? Tell me it’s not Hunter…Anyone but Hunter. You have my number - obviously, since you’ve been screening my calls - and…look, fuck it.” There was a pause before the voice added, “Its Christian if you didn’t know…”
- - - - - - - - - - - -
“We fly into Maine on Sunday afternoon - we’re staying at the Hilton. You are too.”
The following Sunday came far too quickly for the redhead and, suitcase in hand, she stood just outside the door of Maine’s central airport. The diva sighed, looking this way and that as she searched for the Evolution limo - her transport for the following few days. Maine wasn’t exactly the warmest state and, considering she had been waiting for little over thirty minutes, the diva’s teeth chattered as she did her best to keep warm. “Excuse me?” the voice was quiet, timid almost and, turning to see where it came from, Lita came face to face with a young boy, no older than ten and dressed in a ‘We Lie, We Cheat, We Steal’ shirt. “You’re Lita aren’t you?” The boy seemed scared to intrude but beamed at her when the newest member of Evolution smiled and nodded. “Can I have your autograph?”
Taking the kid’s pen and flight ticked, the redhead signed her name elaborately. “There you go,” she said, handing back the ticket after signing a final kiss. “I hope that’s a used one, mister?”
Grinning shyly, the boy nodded. “My brother’s called Billy,” he said. “And he said you wouldn’t sign my ticket. He said you were in Evolution and that you were a bitch.”
“Well you can just tell Billy that he can fuck off, can’t you?” Lita snapped, her anger getting the better of her. It was safe to say that she hadn’t realised what she had said until she saw the boy’s expression change. He was no longer timid or even smiling, he was terrified, hurt that a superstar would behave in such a way. “I’m sorry…” she called out as the young boy ran off, leaving the signature at his heels as he hurried to tell his brother that he had been right - Lita was a bitch.
And then she heard it - a clapping noise, closely followed by a low chuckle. “You really did a number on that poor kid, huh?” The voice was coming from the wound down window of a limo parked just behind her, Hunter’s face grinning up at her. “Maybe you’re more like us than you’d care to admit?” The diva opened her mouth to retort but the blond silenced her. “Get in. We’re going for dinner.”
With a roll of her eyes, Lita left her suitcase with the limo driver and slid into the seat closest to the now open door. A nod of the head from Dave and a ‘hello, Princess’ from Ric was the only acknowledgement or welcome she received as the car bean to move. The diva wondered where this ‘princess’ trend had come from but, accepting that there were many names - all much worse - that they could be calling her, decided not to ask. “So where to?” she asked, the first time she had initiated conversation with the men.
“I’m feeling something spicy,” said the largest man in the car. “How about Mexican?”
“Yeah and you can wash your chilli down with your Malibu, can’t you?” Randy said and, for a minute, Lita was sure that he was angry. Slowly, however, a smile spread across Dave’s face and he pushed at his younger friend’s shoulder is a typical jocular fashion. “Fine - Mexican it is but, really man, you gotta start drinking something a little less fruity.”
“I like what I like,” Dave said simply. “What about you, Lita - Mexican okay with you?”
“Mhmm,” she muttered, slowly remembering that these were not friends she was amongst and that she should not be so keen to let her guard down.
“She lived down there for a bit,” Randy spoke over her, gaining confused looks from everyone - including Lita herself. “What?! I read it in her book…” Dave and Ric seemed to accept this answer but Lita frowned. He knew much more about her than she would have liked.
“You can read?” Hunter laughed as Randy scowled back at his mentor. Once more, Lita was plagued with the urge to laugh but, instead, chewed on her lip to prevent this from showing. “You in pain or something?” Hunter asked, drawing the attention to her. Shaking her head, Lita was left alone for the duration of the car ride.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
She had to admit that she had missed Mexican food : Trish and Lilian didn’t enjoy any form of spice and, having never learned to cook Mexican-style, the last time the diva had eaten Quesadillas had been at Jeff Hardy’s birthday, three years previous. Enjoying her cheesy meal, the diva sipped on a glass of water having reused the house wine which Ric had tried to ply her with - she had not thought it wise to drink alcohol around the members of Evolution. On the other side of the table was Randy who had worked his way through a vast chilli dish who’s name he couldn’t pronounce and who’s size he could believe and was now swinging back on his chair, beer in hand. “So where we going from here?” he asked, a wicked glint in his eye.
“I aint heading no where tonight, kid,” Ric said, setting his knife and fork on his plate. “My back’s been playing up this past and if I wanna be in action at all tomorrow there’ll be no dancing for me.” Winking, the white-blond man pushed back his chair. “You four go on, though…”
“I’ll pass tonight, too, actually,” Hunter said, looking pensive. “We need to start planning, huh, Ric?” Ric nodded, leaving Lita wondering what they were planning.
“Just us three then?”
“Actually…”
“Nuh-uh - you’ve got to come,” Randy turned to Lita, rapidly. “You’ve got to do everything Evolution does.”
“Well its not exactly an ‘Evolution’ thing if only two of you are going,” Lita grinned over her glass as she took a long sip.
Randy looked to his mentor, hoping he would contradict the only female of the faction. “She’s got a point,” he said instead, resulting in a smug smile etching itself onto Lita’s pretty features. “She doesn’t have to go if she doesn’t want to.”
Lita raised an eyebrow - as smug as currently felt, Hunter wasn’t the type of guy to agree with her or take her side. Casting a fleeting glance between Hunter and Randy, however, she was reminded of the previous Monday evening and was glad of Hunter’s intervention.
“Now if everyone’s finishes, I’ll be getting the bill,” and with that, Dave left.
“That’s not fair, Hunter,” Randy said in a hushed voice almost the second Dave was out of earshot. “He’ll stand around, drinking that Homo-shit and I’ll be left looking like one of them too…Have you seen the way he dances, Hunt? Have you?!”
It would only be Randy seeing Dave’s dancing that evening as Lita, Hunter and Ric all clambered into the limo, heading straight for the Hilton. Sure, the diva had stayed in nice hotels before - she wasn’t exactly some cheap ass - but the Hilton, or perhaps this one in particular, was divine. The sheets were soft, the pillows plump and there was a box of chocolates waiting for her on the nightstand. This, she thought as she dropped her duffle bag to the floor, re-adjusting the position of her suitcase, is something I could definitely get used to. “Your friends are just to the side of you, Miss,” said the bell boy who had originally brought her suit case to the room. “Mister Orton is in the room to your left and Mister Batista to your right. If you need anything just dial R20 on the phone provided, that puts you straight through to the reception desk. Now is everything okay?”
The diva nodded and, leaving her alone, the bell boy closed the door behind him. It didn’t take the redhead long to curl underneath the large bed covers, more comfortable than she had been in a hotel room in months. “What are you doing, Lita?” she asked herself aloud, thinking of all the voice mail messages she had received - her friends were worried, she was letting herself in for something much bigger than she could ever have imagined. “This isn’t you…”
But she did not worry herself too much with this idea as she fell asleep soon after, the warmth from the covers, the comfort from the pillows dragging her into a deep slumber.
It couldn’t have been that deep, however, for at twenty nine minutes past two, exactly, she was woken up by a loud - and very female - cry from the room to her left. This ‘cry’ was repeated, louder and louder each time and the redhead pulled the pillow over her head. Just as she was losing the will to live - and contemplating ending Randy and his new found ‘friend’s’ life - it stopped with a guttural groan from her new ‘partner’. Silence now on both sides of the wall, Lita found herself returning to her state of slumber.
Just over four hours later - at seven o’clock - the redhead’s eyes shot open and she pressed the ‘end alarm’ button on her iPod. Motorhead was not a band she was particularly fond of - even less so since she had joined ‘Evolution’ - but she was even less fond of them when they were her morning alarm. She went about her morning routine - her showering, moisturising and, finally, dressing - without a hitch until, when pulling on a pair of grey socks, she noticed a white paper on the floor, as though it had been pushed through under the door.
The redhead moved towards it and slowly picked it up. The paper bore the Hilton header on the paper and any hopes that it had been from Trish were soon gone. Instead of Trish’s neat script, with it’s I’s and J’s dotted with love hearts was one word, an untidy scrawl reading : Jealous?