Take My Breath Away

Chapter 21

Seth POV:

The more I observe Dean on the following days, the more intrigued I am. He isn't like the type of guy who tries to play in other's life. Even if he does, he isn't doing something stupid in my things. I enjoy seeing his blue eyes shine when he laughs and the sound of his voice. He might be rough around the edges, unlike polished, but he's interesting.

I watch one of his previous matches on the television while getting ready for the SmackDown. Yeah... Today is the one that he has promised to take me out. Even though I'm excited to watch him in a live performance, I feel a little nervous on one side. I don't know what to do about it.

My thoughts are interrupted when I hear his car horn outside. I sigh and shut off the lights in the room before making my way to the door. My hands shake when I hold the doorknob, and it's almost as if I forget how to breathe. My heart is beating a mile a minute inside my chest, but I paste on a smile that I don't quite feel, donning as much false bravado as I can.

He's rocking on the balls of his feet when I open the door, and he looks no different from what he does in the ring, minus the sweat coating his skin. He's wearing a pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, a leather jacket thrown over it all. His hair is dry and curling at the ends, and his smile is wide enough for his eyes to be squinted. He's kind of ridiculously, stupidly hot.

I swallow roughly, opening the door a little wider. "Hey." I try not to flush in embarrassment at the nervous tremble in my voice.

His eyes slowly scan up and down my body, and I feel a different kind of heat suffusing in my skin. "Hey, kitten." He says, eyes finally back on my face. "You gonna wear this to the arena?"

"Yeah," I mumble, looking down at myself. There is a flicker of pink as my tongue swipes over my bottom lip, and I half-tempted to say fuck whatever plans that Dean has in mind.

He sighs and walks over to his car, grabbing something from it. "Here." A shirt lands on my head, and I pull it off, shaking it out to see that it's one of his official shirts, his logo emblazoned across the front. "Wear that."

I shrug, going to my room and pulling my shirt off before I slip his on, a looser fit than I'm used to, but it smells like my fabric softener, like Dean, and I barely resist lifting it to my nose to get more of the scent that's surrounding me and comforting me. I smile and unlock the door, getting into the living room to see him.

"I thought you would change in front of me." He says, blue eyes simmering with heat when he looks over at me. "Hmm... Anyway, you look... goddamn, kitten."

I feel warmth down to my toes, a flush rising to my cheeks. "Shut up," I say, an overwhelming sense of bashfulness stealing over me.

"Mmm.. Nah." He says, moving in closer, hands on my hips, slipping under the t-shirt and skirting over the skin of my belly. The warmth of his breath tickles, sending shivers down my spine and pressing flush against my back. "I want to fuck you in just this shirt!"

I suck in a sharp breath and move away from him, shaking my head. "I-I think it's time for us to leave." I convince him, grabbing his hand and dragging him out. It is dumb to say I know since I'm very aware of the excuses that I'm spouted to keep him from touching me in unfamiliar ways.

Once we have settled in his car, my mind starts to ramble about unknown thoughts that are scaring me sometimes. I don't even realize that the car is moving until the bright lights of other cars on the highway. I sigh and watch everything curiously, not letting my mind become trash.

When we reach the arena, I feel overwhelmed as I watch some of the fans surrounding the gate because I'm also one of them. As soon as we get out of the car, the security ushers him inside the building, that is.

He pulls my hand when I realize the security detail is trying to keep me back. "He's with me." He says, utilizing explanation when the guard raises his eyebrows.

I stare at him as he leads me backstage because the show hasn't started yet. And I get disturbed by something that I can't quite confess until he drags me a little faster where his locker room is.

"I don't wanna tell people, though." He says gruffly, glancing at me. "People always tell other people's stuff, and then other people ruin it."

"Okay.." I say, somewhat dejected, already annoyed that I can't tell anyone about us. I haven't had a boyfriend or a girlfriend before, even if I have committed to marriage, so I sorta want to shout about it.

Even though I try to go along with him, I feel bad for committing to him because I like to spend the rest of my life with the man who's not wanting to yell at this world about us and does not want to have kids with me. It means I'm never even going to get married...

With the heavy thoughts in mind, I give him a small smile and walk out to the stage, getting a seat in the front row. The arena starts to fill already, so I don't feel too nervous. When the show begins, I get excited because I love wrestling since I'm a kid.

I'm gonna lose myself in the show for the next two hours, letting the drama unfolding in front of me chase away all thoughts about my life and everything else that isn't who's wrestling who, what titles are up for grabs at the next PPV, and what ridiculous bullshit the scripts is up to this week.

Other than Dean, I also have some favorites, of course, I do, and sometimes watching them fills me with envy, sadness, thoughts of how they're the same age, how they're doing the only thing that hurt them, but even through all that, I can't stop watching.

My heart hammers in my chest, and I root to my seat when I hear Dean's music hits. I watch the entrance in awe and grin excitedly, feeling something different. Without I'm realizing it, my left-hand moves to my stomach and rubs it gently.

A blush creeps on my cheeks when he spots me in the crowd and winks at me. I keep watching his actions without missing anything because I want to. Whenever he has a chance, he glances at me and impresses me with his unique nature. I feel good, no, more than perfect after a long time.

I jump slightly in excitement as he wins and celebrates his victory with the audience. I let out a sigh as he slowly makes his way out of the ring, sweaty, his shoulders slumped, an arm wrapping around his waist.

All the lights go on, and the arena slowly starts to empty. I have to congrats Dean, so I drag my feet as I move, making my way backstage, flashing the badge he has given me. The hallways are packed, people milling about everywhere, and it takes a lot of careful maneuvering to dodge all the bodies and not run into anyone.