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“Look at the time, guys. I have to go. Mom’s expecting me back at The Faun.”
Chey and I wave goodbye and keep at our routine. There’s no time to waste. We have to nail down the moves, the both of us. Counting on getting the ring cues right by a wing and a prayer will not cut it.
Chey and I are alone in the center ring again. It feels good. We’re both focused and driven. No words are needed. Others are training around us, but to me, the world has shrunk to our ring alone.
I stop my stretching and look over at Chey. Her moves are so fluid. She makes it all look so easy. There’s no doubt she’s from wrestling royalty. It’s as if she was born to wrestle in the ring. While I’ve had to work like a dog to get my sketches down, Chey seems to float through hers.
At some point, I realize I’m not just appreciating Chey as a colleague. It’s become more than that. My body is reacting as an orc. All senses are on the alert. The arousal alert. It’s a real attraction I have to her, and I think I’ve just been playing it off all along. Lately, I can’t deny it.
The look she gives me says it all. She thinks I’m cute, even if she doesn’t want to admit it on a regular basis. I shake off the thought as another floods my mind.
I think back to the meeting with Bob and my arm around her the entire time. Chey didn’t fidget, didn’t move. The attraction has to be mutual. There is no fight between us to have it be otherwise. My assumption Chey paid me no mind at all from our first meeting must have been dead wrong, or maybe I’ve grown on her.
Truthfully, I always thought she was hot, but this feels like… more.
I lower my head to do the leg stretches. I don’t feel the muscles pull. I don’t feel any pain. My mind is a whirl at my recent realization. I’m filled with a mix of unbridled joy that makes me want to grab her and carry her away, but also deep uneasiness, knowing a romantic relationship will only make things worse. But for whom, though? For her or for me?
I can’t lie. For me. For her. For us both. For our brands, our careers, our everything. An orc and a human? What the hell am I thinking?
To shed the disquieting thoughts, I jump to my feet and start my foot routine. Keep moving, keep ducking, keep swaying. Think of the moves. Think of the fans, the routine, the ring. Think of anything but her.
I call out. “Heading for the showers.”
Chey nods and quickly waves. She’s completely in her zone. Good.
I jump out and head for the lockers. I’m not in panic mode, but I’d be lying if I said my mind isn’t racing. The what-ifs start piling high. The big picture seems impossible. When have wrestling romances ever worked? Ever lasted? They’re just flashes in the pan. Passion that quickly peters out.
I shed my workout clothes and hit the hot water. No matter the deluge on my body, my mind won’t let go.
Chemistry and the desire to pursue her are driving me. How does an orc overcome the urge?
Under the shower spray, my mouth fills with water as I whisper. “I don’t.”
CHAPTER 13
Cheyanne
My heart is beating a mile a minute. I adore The Faun Arena, and I’m jazzed about this match. Home turf. Where I belong.
“Girls, I just got word from the box office. Sold-out crowd!”
I cheer, and Camie and I do the dance of joy in the ring.
Two days ago, I wasn’t sure of anything after that debacle with Bob at the Bang-ga-lang. But now I’m dead sure. Things feel so right. I smile. One good thing came out of that Bigfoot meeting — Ronan’s arm around me the whole time we were sitting there. Wow. That was a shock. I didn’t move a muscle for fear he’d realize and pull away.
Then, Camie and I rocked the last gig we played. We paired up with a hero duo who were just as fresh off the vine as Camie and me. All four of us slogged it out like we had nothing to lose. New characters, airtime, and room to rumble. It was fantastic!
“Chey, you’re daydreaming. Stop it, girl. We still have a shit-ton to do to get ready and the lights go up in mere hours. Shake your booty.”
I laugh and fake salute. “You caught me.”
Camie throws me a pile of towels to store under the ring. “What were you dreaming? It must have been juicy. You looked all googly-eyed.”
“Googly-eyed? What are you, ten?”
“Hey, listen, I can read googly-eyes.”
“Nothing. It was nothing. Just thinking back to our last win against those two girls, Hazy and Hanna, the Milking Maiden Twins. And I guess imagining this place full and you and I rocking the ring again, that’s all,” I lie. No way I’m touching my true thoughts. No time for that.
