NaNoWriMo Story Snippets

53. Excerpt from CHEAT DAY

I was going to do CHEAT DAY with alternating POVs, but I might make it shorter and do Seth's POV and Becky's POV as separate stories. I'll have to see how November goes. Subject to editing, etc.

As a rule, Becky didn't like to store a lot on her phone. She'd had too many friends—Seth, Charlotte, Paige—who had suffered from photo leaks online, so she was careful not to have anything remotely risque on her phone. But she was also used to her phone being her lifeline. When she had left Ireland to wrestle in Canada, a phone had been her constant connection to her family and Finn back home and she hadn't wanted to jeopardize that. Now, of course, she could afford a fancy phone with a premium plan, but old habits died hard. In this case, though, the particular video had to be on her phone if she wanted to show it to Seth.

If she wanted to was becoming less and less clear as the workout session went on. After Cesaro and Bayley left the workout early so they could make the next house show, that left only Becky, Seth, and Joshy at the gym, and she figured that was probably as good as she was going to get. When Joshy had to leave to go pick up a parcel, Becky scurried to the men's locker room and knocked on the door.

She saw the spray from Seth's hair before his face, and Becky had to blink the water away. "Hey. Sorry, Becks. What's up? Showers in the women's not working again?" Seth asked. "I'm almost done...."

Becky held up her phone. "Can I get your opinion on something really quick?" She knew where Joshy was headed and that the trip would take at least half an hour—and that was if traffic was minimal, which was unlikely—but she still didn't want to think about the video any longer than necessary.

Seth blinked in surprise as he stepped back, grasping the towel wrapped around his waist. "Yeah, of course. But... I mean, does it have to be right now?" He gestured to his wet chest and the flip-flops on his feet. "Give me five minutes to dry off and I—"

"It's just sort of... personal," Becky said, fingers tapping the edge of her phone, "and Joshy's great and all, but I don't feel comfortable with him seeing it, you know? You're different."

"Sure." Seth stepped back to let her in the locker room. "So what's up?"

"It might be nothing," Becky began, flipping her phone between her hands. "I mean, Jeff's a comedian, yeah? They like to push the envelope and whatever."

Seth's gaze immediately dropped to her arms. "What did he do?"

It took Becky a moment to follow his train of thought. "Nothing!" she blurted. "Nothing like that, I swear. No, it's... it's part of his routine. I mean, it might not even be about me. It could be just a general 'oh, being famous is so hard' thing. He's dated other celebrities before and—"

"Becks." Seth gently pried the phone from her hands and turned the screen to face her. "What is it?"

"It's... oh, just watch," she said at last. "Like I said, it's probably nothing and I'm probably overthinking it, but I thought it would hurt to get someone else's opinion." Not quite meeting Seth's gaze, Becky started the video and turned the phone back to face him.

It was part of one of Jeff's newer routines where he was trying to blend his 'I'm just like you!' gimmick with his Hollywood scoops. Becky was fonder of the former, but had a sneaking suspicion she was becoming fodder for the latter. Dating famous people is so weird, you know? Jeff began. Most of his audience of course didn't know, but he had built up enough camaraderie that his fans felt like they were friends, or at least acquaintances. Like, you see her on TV or a movie screen or whatever and she seems larger than life, and then BAM! She's there sucking your cock! Jeff paused to let the laughter reach its crescendo. And after that, the mystique is kinda gone, you know? How can you take someone's performance seriously when you see your dick coming out of their mouth, right? Or you see them trying to act all cool and tough but all you can think is 'Girl, I've seen you with my jizz all over your face'. The worst is when they act like they're all that, but you've jacked off into socks in college that were better. Coolness factor one-hundred percent dead.