4. NOVA

NOVA

Chapter four

Once I finally made it over to the writer's room, I was exhausted. My feet were hurting and my pride was shot.

The writing team, though all men, were pretty decent to follow along with and did an upstanding job going over the in's and the outs of what they do. Not that all men are incompetent, I just mean that they didn't ogle me the whole time. Well most of them didn't. They even said that though I'm just the assistant, there's a chance that my ideas could be used for any of the upcoming shows. Though I do miss the presence of the one person I was looking forward to meeting, the head creative writer. I wonder when I'll get to meet him.

The other writers told me that they sometimes write all the way up to the minutes before the live show starts, even if the idea isn't complete. So having me around might make it a bit easier to save some time.

We went over some of the anticipated match ups over the next few weeks and they talked about the creative writing behind this week's story.

It's no surprise to find out that one of the main events for Friday is a tag-team match featuring Hunter and Krew and their opponents, the UKO brothers—which stands for Ultimate Knock Out by the way. They've been in an ongoing feud for months now and each match is another match closer to the championship match. We all know it's the match to determine who the new owners of the championship belts will be. Right now, Hunter and Krew hold the title of tag-team champions.

The most anticipated match though features Zayden Stone. He's slated to go against his arch nemesis, Gryffin, The Irish Hero. He's well known for his Irish accent and bright red hair. He's handsome and seems genuine enough on television, but as usual, the heroes always lose. Their rivalry is one that goes back a few years and has just gotten bigger and bigger over time.

Now, I'm heading toward the cafeteria to go over some of my notes and jot some other things down. I order an iced coffee from the coffee cart and find a seat somewhere I can take my shoes off and no one will see. Which isn't hard considering there's hardly anyone here.

"Mind if I sit?" A familiar voice creeps up from behind me and I don't have to look to know who it is.

I roll my eyes as he sits next to me, throwing one leg over each side of the bench and I cringe thinking he'll see my bare feet under the table.

"Do you ever go away, Mr. Dodge?"

"I need to eat too. Not my fault the only place to do that is in the cafeteria," he responds in a sarcastic tone.

I look over to see that he doesn't have a single item of food in his possession.

"So, were you gonna go get that food then or did you just want to sit here and annoy me." I don't know what possesses me to talk to him like that, because the smirk that creeps across his face only proves that he likes it when I give an attitude.

"Already ate. Was just leaving when I saw you sit down."

"Lucky me," I quip.

He clicks his tongue.

"Besides, I thought maybe I'd try to pick up where we left off." His words would sound slimy coming from any other man, yet spilling from the tone of his voice, they don't sound so cringe.

But that doesn't stop me from taking the moment to call him out.

"You're a pig," I state, sliding my heels back on and picking up my shit, opting to move away since he won't.

"No, I'm persistent."

I don't stop at his words, despite how innocent they may sound. I know he's just trying to be flirty, but I can't enable his behavior. Especially considering what I let him get away with earlier.

"Wait." He gets up from his seat and jogs over to me.

"Hunter, I don't have time for whatever the hell you have planned." I turn on my heels to face him and I nearly knock into him as he stops in front of me, but before anything can fall from my hands he reaches out and stops everything from crashing to the ground.

"You're right, I'm a pig. I'm sorry." He looks at me with puppy eyes, eyes that are as blue as the deepest parts of the ocean. I can tell he's trying to be genuine, but it could also all be a ruse to get me in bed with him.

And honestly, as much as I respect myself and demand not to be treated like a fresh piece of ass, I probably would get into bed with him. If he were anyone else and we didn't work together. I probably would have let him fuck me up against the cold hallway wall earlier.

Because my sexual frustration has been a far-too long battle and a girl's vibrator can only do so much. I curse myself for feeling the way I do but try to feign being unbothered.

Though when I look at the way Hunter is looking at me, a fire ignites low in my belly. Because he's actually looking at me. My eyes, my chest, my stomach, my legs. And though the realization would normally make me feel uncomfortable, I actually feel really flattered under his gaze.

"I didn't mean to come off the way I did earlier. I guess I just got lost in your attraction and when you didn't push me away…" he trails off for a second before taking in a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I should have never put you in that position."

"Who are you?" I ask in a sarcastic tone.

Hunter is an egotistical wrestler. In fact, they all are. But I haven't heard much about him being romantically involved with anyone so the assumption is that he's a player and here I am feeding right into his game.

"I'm just a man, Nova. I wrestle and I might come off as cocky sometimes, but at the end of the day, I'm not blind to someone as pretty as you. And before you ask, I'm not a player. I can see what you're thinking." I roll my eyes when he says this. "I know I came off as one just now, but again, I couldn't ignore your attraction."

"You stating that you had to practically force yourself on me because I'm hot makes you sound exactly like a player, Mr. Dodge."

"You're right, it does. And I'm sorry." His phone starts to ring, and I feel uncomfortable standing here with all this shit in my hands.

"Just a second," he says to me before he turns around to answer his phone.

I take this moment to make my escape, turning as fast I can and walking—no, jogging—toward the exit.

But I don't make it far before I hear his footsteps catching up to me. He reaches for my elbow and when he makes contact, he spins me back around so that I'm facing him, flush with his chest. All of my stuff squished painfully between us.

He looks down at me with an intense, heated glare that bleeds the sarcasm of betrayal as he continues his phone conversation.

"Yes, I got it. I'll be there." He ends the call and lets go of my elbow at the same time, allowing a few inches of space to fall between us as I back up feeling so much contact, feigning appreciation for the space but damn well knowing my body craves to be touched.

"Why did you try to leave just now?" He sounds disappointed, but only enough for me to know that he's not really hurt, he just wanted me to stick around.

I opt not to answer. I can't. I feel stuck between the space of wanting him to put his hands on me again and wanting to stand my ground and not take whatever egotistical game he's playing.

"Fine. Don't answer me. But I really want to make it up to you. Ya know, for being all alpha-male on you earlier."

"And for taking me around the building earlier when I trusted you to take me where I needed to go," I add. "My feet will never recover," I quip. Not forgetting that this asshole also led me to the opposite side of the building just to fuck with me.

"That too. Again, I'm sorry. Listen, there's a party tonight. At the Punch Bowl Social. It's downtown. If you want to get out tonight, maybe hang out with me and I can buy you a drink to make up for being a douche, I'll be there around nine." He lets the invitation roll off his tongue in a sexy tone of genuine interest.

"That might be just as douchey as you throwing me up against the wall earlier," I say shifting the contents in my hands around.

"I'm sorry, Nova. I'm obviously not saying the right things here. But you can't blame me for wanting to hang out with the prettiest girl in town. I promise I don't mean to come off as a douche. It's just a casual party, nothing fancy. Just some of the wrestlers getting together and hanging out. And I promise I won't even breathe the same air as you without your permission." He looks down at me, and again gives me those fucking blue eyes.

Hunter is attractive, I can't deny it. And I can't fault him for earlier. He asked me several times if I wanted him to back off and I didn't tell him no. Because deep down I wanted him closer. But I also didn't want to submit to that feeling.

The idea that someone I've seen on T.V, someone as good-looking as Hunter, was standing in front of me and touching my body, is something I'd never imagined would really happen.

I think over his invitation, and I decide I really will consider it. It might be fun to go out for the night. I don't know anyone in the area since relocating so I might be able to make some friends. It also might give me some cred with the wrestlers and anyone else who might be there.

"Okay. If I go out tonight, I'll hold you to that douchey gesture of buying me a drink," I say while turning around to finally free myself of the overwhelmingly closeness in space we share.

"Anything you want, little one," he shouts behind me and it's the last two words that have me crumbling in the knees, knowing that no amount of self-respect in the world will hold up to him calling me that stupid nickname.