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The Guidelines of Sex & Friendship	By : delicatektheory Category: WWF/WWE > Het - Male/Female Views: 1885 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the WWE current or former talent. I do not own any of the lyrics featured later on. I am not making money from writing this. All I own is Lil, Jas, and Jenn.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Yesterday, I sat in a kitchen chair, in the foyer, in
front of Matt’s front door. I was looking down at the handwritten two-page letter that was trembling in my hands. For the most part, it was a two-page explanation of something I had no control over. I was four weeks pregnant, not that I needed two pages to explain it to Matt. Even in writing, I was trying to stall and avoid the truth of the matter.
            When I told Jenn and Jeff about my letter idea, they felt it was a little too cruel (not to mention elementary), but it couldn’t have been any worse than how they were told the day before. Grant it, I used no tact at all, which was probably due to me being upset with Shannon about tossing me into the situation without preparation. I was just sitting with them, waiting to get my ultrasound, when I very nonchalantly looked to my right and said, “I kind of forgot to mention that I’m pregnant.”
            That caused Jenn to lapse into a state shock for two hours.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” was all Jeff said.
It wasn’t until the ride back that things started to sink in for Jenn and me. She got to hear her baby’s heartbeat for the first time, and I got to see that little black blob known as the gestational sack, which further cemented the fact that I was awake for the eventual nightmare. And Jeff, I found him to be genuinely accepting of that fact that he was becoming an uncle as I broke down in his arms and sobbed.
“Jenn and I are here for you no matter what,” he said. “Don’t worry about Matt. Everything will be all right.”
He and Shannon both wanted to stay and wait with me. They said it was so they could help me tell Matt when he came home, but I think they just wanted to make sure that I wasn’t harmed. Matt could be volatile at times, and if he was about to be given the news that he had impregnated his nineteen-year-old best friend, well, someone needed to be there as witness to my murder. I didn’t think Matt would actually kill me, but at that point, I wasn’t ruling anything out.
At the risk of giving myself a free trip to the morgue, I declined their offers. I needed to tell him alone. I could just hand him the letter, close my eyes, and hopefully his painful outburst wouldn’t be too long. I wanted it to be a quick and easy death, just like in my nightmares.
All of the afternoon, with my courage slowly fleeting, I waited in front of the door. And I kept waiting, with no sign of Matt’s return. Shannon and Jeff alternated between calling me to see how it went. I eventually had to turn off my phone because I couldn’t take the added anxiety they were placing on me.
Matt should’ve been home by four o’clock, but he wasn’t. He usually called me whenever he was going to be late, and I never received a call. Being worried about someone is very uncharacteristic of me, so calling Jeff and asking him, and I quote, “Where the hell is your stupid freaking brother?” was awkward. He didn’t know, of course, but said that he would call around and find out.
Two hours later, he called back and told me that Matt was stuck in a layover in New York City due to a brutal thunderstorm and wouldn’t be home until today. So my entire day was ruined, and when I woke up this morning, every bit of my courage had been replaced by dread. I wasn’t exactly sure what Matt was going to want to do. I wasn’t having an abortion, nor was I giving it up for adoption.   Would Matt choose to excommunicate me and our baby from his life? God, I hope not, but I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to. Still, I was concerned at how I would hold up if he chose that route.
I rolled over, groaning as I looked at the digital clock on the nightstand. Six A.M. I had no idea when Matt would be home, or even why he hadn’t called me, but I needed to get up. A good hot shower might help me somewhat sort out the chaos that is my life.
Lucas followed me into the downstairs bathroom.
“No, no, boy,” I cooed, sticking my crutch in front on him to keep him from getting ahead of me. “Not today. Lil needs some alone time.”
He whimpered at me, giving me that pitiful doggy pout.
“Oh, don’t give me that,” I rolled my eyes. Luke, just go wait on Daddy. I’ll be out in a minute.”
The oddity of me speaking to Lucas in such a way caused me to stop midstride. What was even odder was the fact that he listened and trotted off to the living room.
The downstairs bathroom wasn’t like the one in the master bedroom. It was just a standing shower. Even though it had handrails in it, I had no shower seat, so my bathing wouldn’t last nearly as long as it usually does. I turned on the shower and shrugged out of my clothing.
I climbed inside and slid the glass door to a close. I was standing under the hot water and became engulfed by my thoughts. I wasn’t positive about giving Matt my letter now. It did seem a little impersonal after all, but I couldn’t bear to hear myself tell him. Hell, I wouldn’t be able to look at him as he read the letter. My only other option was to give him the letter and then leave the room. Come to think of it, I wish I could leave the country. I’ve always said that I want to travel the globe someday, so what better time to do so? I could just disappear for nine months, and when this kid pops out, I could come back to the states. When Matt asks where the kid came from, I could say that I adopted the orphan to help it escape a poverty-stricken community somewhere in Russia. There, that would make me look like a compassionate person rather than a truth dodger. Matt would never have to know that the kid is actually his. Well, almost never.
As my gender-in-question infant gets older, he/she will probably look like Matt, and then I would have to further explain why they look so much alike. Wait, even worse, the kid could look like me. I can’t have that, so as soon as the little tyke is old enough to dye its hair and wear contacts, I’m going to make it do so. I laughed aloud at how ridiculous I was starting to sound. Matt would catch on to the fact that the child was his with or without the dye-job and contacts.
I heard Lucas’s toenails clicking as they scurried down the hall. I assumed he was going to stand outside the bathroom door and bark until I got out of the shower, but he didn’t. Instead, I heard the door open and softly shut. From my peripheral, I could make out a six-foot-two silhouette standing on the other side of the door.
“Matt?” I squeaked as I tightened my grip on the handrail.
No response. All I heard was the sound of shoes hitting the floor.
I held my breath, refusing to turn around as I felt the cool air sweep across my damp skin. Matt opened the shower door and closed it behind him. He must have come in fully-clothed, because I felt fabric brush against my back as he wrapped his arms around my neck.
“Hey you,” I forced a smile.
Still, he said nothing. He kissed the crook of my neck as his hands slipped over my breasts and secured them around my waist.
I knew what he wanted. Hell, after a two-week masturbation period, I wanted it, too, but it felt wrong. Wrong to want him touching me; wrong to let him touch me without any knowledge of the little life that was growing inside of me. Fuck it. This could be the last time he voluntarily comes into the same room as me. I might as well get something out of it.
I slowly turned to face him.
He had his head bent down, gazing into my eyes. His clothes were drenched. If his intention was to have sex, he could have at least got rid of the accessories and made it a lot easier on me. I guess he was impatient.
Matt guided my hands away from the rails and wrapped them around his waist. Then he kissed me. For the first time, it was the slow kiss. The one I had dreamt of a couple nights ago. I was half expecting to hear the trumpets again, or the laughter to let me know that I was making out with the shower wall or something. But, scalding water—Matt had me pressed against the hot water nozzle—let me know that I wasn’t dreaming this time.
Without so much as a greeting, he dropped his pants and underwear to his feet and then lifted me into his arms. He pressed my back against the shower door, which probably would crack beneath our weight, and rode me like a horse at a horse race. After twenty minutes worth of award-winning shower sex, we graduated to award-winning sex on the bathroom counter.
Matt had practically screwed me into the next century. He had red scratch marks across his arms and shoulder blades. He still didn’t give me the proper greeting as he wrapped a towel around himself and left me to finish getting dressed. I slipped on my robe, just in case he was planning a round three.
He was bringing in his suitcases when I finally emerged from the bathroom.
I stood in front of him, watching as he started hauling his stuff up the stairs. “So, I don’t get a hello?”
He looked at me for a moment and then his jet-lagged expression twisted into a smile.
“I thought the sex was the hello,” he replied.
“No, it was just some really good and much needed sex.”
He dropped his suitcases, came back down the first few steps, and walked over to me. “Hello, Lily Marie,” he cooed, kissing my forehead.
“Hello, Matthew Moore.”
He chuckled and then returned to his task of getting his belongings up the stairs.
“Why didn’t you call me yesterday?” I asked. “You know, to tell me you were going to be a day late?”
He stopped midway up the stairs and turned to look down at me. “My phone died at the airport,” he replied.
“How did Jeff found out your whereabouts, then?”
“Must’ve contacted Ken,” he shrugged. “What’s with the sudden integration?”
I froze for a moment. I was about to say, “It’s because I’ve waited a week to tell you that you’re going to be a father and I can’t take waiting anymore.” But, I wisely bit my tongue.
“No reason.”
He smirked. “You’ve missed me, haven’t you?”
“What makes you say that?”
He didn’t answer for a second as he lugged his suitcases up a couple more stairs. “The claw marks across my back,” was his reply.
Matt was upstairs for almost six hours or more. I figured that he had finished packing and was passed out on the bed, catching up on his sleep. I didn’t bother him. I sat on the living room couch, with the television at a low murmur, and read my letter for the trillionth time.
When I heard him thumping down the stairs, I quickly folded the letter up and stuffed it between the couch cushions.
“You’re not dressed yet?” he asked, yawning as he entered the room.
“You’re not up yet?” I countered.
He chuckled.
He was wearing a blue dress shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans. He had his hands placed regally behind his back.
“What are you all dressed up for?” I raised a brow.
“I thought I would take us out to eat,” he replied.
“You’re not sick of restaurants?”
He frowned. “So, you don’t want to go out?”
“No, no,” I answered quickly, realizing that this had the essence of a date, or perhaps I just wanted it to be one. “I just thought you might want to stay home.”
He mumbled something that almost sounded like, “Home is wherever you are, kid.” But I wasn’t entirely sure. With the week I had been having, I wouldn’t be surprised if my mind was playing tricks on me again.
“Go get dressed, Lil,” he requested.
I nodded and clanked to the stairs.
I wasn’t sure what I should wear for this outing. By Matt’s choice of attire, this didn’t look like it was going to be a casual lunch. And if I was about to tell him that I was pregnant—which I had planned to do—I needed to at least go down in a blaze of glory. I selected a sleeveless black dress and wore a pair of black dress pants underneath it. I wasn’t a huge fan of make-up, but I added just enough to catch Matt’s attention. I was still in the bathroom, adding a few curls to my hair, when I heard him shouting up the stairs.
“Lil, what’s taking you so long?”
“Be there in a minute!” I shouted back, not that he heard me.
I quickly untangled the curling-iron from my hair and unplugged it. I grabbed a hold of the counter and stood up to admire and/or disapprove of the final product.
I had the Angelina Jolie too-much-red-pouty-lip-gloss thing happening, but other than that I looked fine. A little too hot, I would say. I could barely recognize myself in the mirror, but maybe that was a good thing. I looked like a smoking-hot adult as opposed to a plain-looking, barely legal teen.
It’s hard to gracefully descend a flight of stairs on crutches, but damn it, I was trying to. I was too busy looking at my feet to realize that Matt was waiting for me at the bottom. I heard his breathing stop, so I looked up at him. He stared at me for what seemed like an eternity and then he reached out to brush a few ringlets of curls out of my eyes.
“Huh, will you look at that?” he chuckled to himself.
“What?”
“You’re all grown up.”
“Jesus, Matt,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes as I stepped off the last step. “You make it sound like you used to change my diapers. If you’re into that whole pedophilic thing, I can just go back up stairs and change into some Hello Kitty attire.”
“Pedophile?” he laughed as he snatched my jacket from the coat rack by the door. “And here I was under the assumption that we were two adults.” He took one crutch at a time and helped me slide on my jacket. “I don’t see anything about you that even comes close to resembling a child right now.” He all but whispered in my ear.
I shuddered slightly at the thought of my soon-to-be child.
“Is that a compliment, Mr. Hardy?” I squeaked.
“I believe so, Ms. Merrette.”
I nodded for no apparent reason and headed for the living room to retrieve my letter from the couch cushions.
“Uh, Lil, the door’s this way.”
“I know.”
He followed me into the living room. My back was to him, so he couldn’t see what I was doing.
“Are you searching for some tip money or something?” he joked.
“The ‘or something’,” I replied as I discretely folded piece of paper between my cleavage and turned to face him.
He laughed, his brow knitting together in a teasing banter. “Are you hiding something from me, Lil?”
I muttered, under my breath, “You have no idea.”

Walcott’s was a quaint, elegant little restaurant in Southern Pines. It wasn’t a terribly expensive place, but expensive enough that I only came with Matt. We mostly came here for special occasions—Matt’s birthday, for example.
The hostess directed us to the usual table in the back corner of restaurant and gave us our menus, but we ordered our usual, chicken (me) and steak (him). He was temped to order himself a glass of wine, but knowing that I’m vehemently against alcohol consumption in my presence, he resisted.
He was leaning back in his chair, staring at me. I was trying to figure out why. Was my anxiety that apparent? I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as I tried to maintain a fixed, uninterested stare in return.
“What’s your function, Hardy?” I finally asked.
He blinked, as if he hadn’t heard me. “What do you mean?”
“You keep looking at me.”
“How can I not?” he chuckled. “You are sitting right in front of me.”
“You know what I mean,” I rolled my eyes. “You look like you have something to say, but you’re not saying it. What gives? What’s on your mind?”
“Oh, nothing,” he smiled. “I was just thinking to myself.”
“About?”
“Your eyes…”
“What about them?”
“Never noticed how beautiful they were until now. I like that eyeliner.”
I blushed, laughing uneasily. “Well, look at you. You’re handing out compliments left and right today. WWE needs to send you away more often, if you’re going to come back in such a giving mood.”
“Don’t I always give you compliments?”
“Yeah…But, sarcasm usually follows.”
“Fine,” he huffed playfully. “You have really beautiful eyes, smartass.”
“That’s better,” I grinned.
The waiter came and set our plates down in front of us and left abruptly after Matt declined another wine offering.
“And what about you?” he asked as he cut into his steak, “You seem to have something on your mind?”
I looked up from my plate, praying to God that my gulp didn’t sound as loud to him as it did to me. This was it; the moment of truth. Should I pull out the letter now, or wait until we’re in the car? No, the car was a bad idea. I almost died the last time. There had to be a better segue into this.
“Kind of, yes,” I replied, softly.
“Oh,” he looked up, stabbing morsel of meat with his fork. “What’s up, wildflower?”
I paid no attention to my new nickname as I started sawing my chicken off its bone, unaware that that screeching sound was the knife hitting the plate. “Well,” I cleared my throat, nervously meeting his gaze, “we’ve talked about it, but we haven’t really talked about it.”
“Talked about what?”
“Children…”
He took a sip of water, trying to conceal the fact that he almost choked on a piece of steak. Apparently, he didn’t want this topic of discussion. Too bad; it was going to happen whether either of us wanted it to or not.
I could almost hear him gulp.
“Well, I know you’re into the whole Picket Fence Dream,” I continued, quickly attempting to explain myself before he had a heart attack. The last thing I needed him to think was that I wanted a commitment.
“What is a Picket Fence Dream?”
“You know, wife, kids, the whole nine—the picket fence.”
“Yes, I guess that’s right,” he nodded in agreement. He looked at me perplexed. “But I really can’t see what that has to do with us?”
My voice hitched a bit. “Well, what I’m eluding to here is that there will come a time in your life where you will have to implement the Picket Fence Dream, whether by choice or unforeseen circumstances.”
“You’ve lost me.”
I sighed, biting the inside of my lip. “You want a family someday, right?”
“Yes.” He was now eyeing me cautiously.
“Well, hypothetically, what if that day was today. Right now, at this very moment, what if you had said Picket Fence Dream in the palm of your hands?”
He cracked a smile.
Maybe this wasn’t going to be as horrendous as I had anticipated. Maybe he was catching on, and I wouldn’t have to give him the now sweaty letter that was still nestled in my cleavage.
“Well, hypothetically,” he replied, “I would probably accept it, assuming my Picket Fence Dream included the person I was meant to be with.”
Ouch. Double ouch. My brain was telling me to sling my dinner in his lap, but then I realized that he had no idea how I felt about him, so there was no point in making a scene. I just gritted my teeth and took it like a man.
“And if said plan does not include your potential soul mate, what then?” I asked as I pushed my untouched food away from me. The sudden potency of the mushroom sauce was starting to make me nauseous.
Matt dropped his silverware in his plate and was pondering my question. “Not to sound rude, but don’t you think that it’s absurd to assume that my Picket Fence Dream doesn’t include my soul mate? I can’t procreate on my own.” he countered.
Yep. Taking nine months to travel around the world was starting to look like a definite alternative.
“I’m saying that accidents happen, Matt,” I mumbled.
“What are you talking about?” He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean ‘accidents happen?’”
“Nothing,” I sighed in frustration. “It’s nothing. I’m just rambling.”
I couldn’t tell Matt, not now. It was obvious that I was the splinter in his picket fence, so why on earth would he want to raise a baby with me? Still, I wasn’t going to be bitter towards him, because like Shannon had said, I couldn’t force it; I couldn’t force him to fall in love me.
“Did you catch a case of baby fever from Jenn?” he asked.
“I guess so,” I replied, trying to shrug, but it looked more like a wince, “Silly, huh?”
He gave me a look of pity. “Somehow, someday there’s no doubt in my mind that you’ll have yourself a wonderful family,” he said. “But, you’re far too young to be worrying about that now.”
Yes, I would have that family… sooner than I anticipated.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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The Guidelines of Sex & Friendship