Cuts Heal In Time (CM Punk)

Chapter 16: Hall of Fame

Hall of Fame

Punk and Amy walked the red carpet together at the Hall of Fame like they had done for the past few years. She looked beautiful like she did every year, but this time around, he couldn't keep his eyes off of Bella, who looked absolutely perfect, as she walked with Randy. He didn't know how or why the two of them ended up going together.

Punk would've happily taken her as his date, but Amy had asked him to go with her months ago, and he was a man of his word.

"Phil!" Amy whisper-yelled. She was getting sick and tired of Phil looking at Arabella and Randy, while she was standing right in front of him.

"What?"

"Why do you keep looking over there?"

"What do you mean?"

"You keep looking at Arabella and Randy!" she said getting upset.

"First of all calm down," he chuckled "I just don't trust Randy."

"Whatever," Amy grunted. She tried to keep a smile on her face for the cameras. Punk, on the other hand, could not care less about how he appeared on camera. He was just there because he had to be. He didn't really care about the Hall of Fame, as important as it was, and he would've preferred to have Bella on his arm, so it just wasn't his night. He couldn't help that his eyes kept making their way back to her and Randy. He really couldn't help it.

Luckily for him, after fifteen grueling minutes of walking the red carpet, he and Amy were finally finished taking pictures (his least favorite part of the night), so they made their way to their seats.

As soon as he got comfortable in his chair, he got a text from Bella.

Bella: You guys look great!

Punk: Have you seen yourself?

He looked up from his phone to see Bella blushing a few seats over. He loved how he could always get a reaction out of her. Most people couldn't do that when it came to Bella, so it brought a small smile to his face. However that smile disappeared when he saw Randy whisper something in her ear that caused her to giggle and then hit him on the shoulder.

He rolled his eyes before turning back to Amy.

"You're so obvious Phil."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your fascination with this Bella girl."

"Jesus Amy. She's my friend."

"Whatever," she crossed her arms over her chest.

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"Randy, you're lying!" Bella couldn't stop laughing.

"I swear it's true. He called me after the game and asked for your number." After the game, one of the Knicks players, the young Italian, Danilo Gallinari had reached out to Randy, asking for Bella's phone number. Randy didn't know how he got his number, but he just assumed he got it from one of the better known Knicks players, like Carmelo Anthony.

"And you didn't give it to him, did you?"

"Of course not!"

"Good thank you. Basketball players are the worst!" Bella had had a couple awkward run-ins with basketball players in her day. One of Jade's cousins used to work for the Bulls, and they would always go to games. Bella had gotten propositioned on numerous occasions in the tackiest of ways.

She wasn't one to judge. Everybody had needs, but she wasn't going to be the one to satisfy those needs.

"What about wrestlers?" Randy raised his eyebrows.

"They're alright, I suppose." She was still getting used to WWE wrestlers.

The wrestlers she'd worked with in the past were just regular guys. They never really had big egos. They were all in the same boat, just trying to get noticed, trying to make it. Even though she hadn't spoken to that many of her current co-workers, she knew things were different- she knew they were different. Only a few of them, like Randy, John, and Kofi had proven to be regular guys.

"Oh, they're alright?"

"Certainly less pushy than basketball players," she laughed, "Well... most of them."

Randy felt a smile grow on his face, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Any wrestlers trying their card with you Ms. Lavigne?"

"Not to my knowledge," she snorted.

"You're so oblivious."

"I am not." she smacked his shoulder.

"For one, you practically have a fan club surrounding the tv by the gorilla during your matches."

"There are always people by the gorilla," she reasoned.

"Okay. Check your twitter."

"What?"

"Check it. I'll wait," he chuckled.

So Bella pulled out her phone to check her twitter, "What am I supposed to be seeing?" She did get a couple hundred thousand more followers, but that was expected. She was on the WWE roster now.

"Give me your phone," he held out his hand.

With furrowed eyebrows, she placed her phone on his hand, and he looked up her name in the search bar, "Read these tweets."

"They're just fanboys."

"So Dolph Ziggler, Justin Gabriel, and John Cena are just fanboys?"

"What do you mean?"

"They all tweeted about you after your match."

"Randy, they were just being nice," she laughed.

"Whatever you say," he trailed off.

"They were just being friendly."

"I can guarantee you they were not."

"Okay, so what's the difference between them and you? We're friends," she reminded him.

"That we are. But if you wanted more, I wouldn't complain."

"You're so annoying," she playfully rolled her eyes.

Randy wrapped his arm around her seat and they turned their attention to the stage to watch the ceremony begin.

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Punk and Bella were hanging out together on his bus after the Hall of Fame ceremony.

"You know," she started, looking at her friend, "That's gonna be you one day, being inducted into the hall of fame."

She truly believed what she had just said. He was a generational talent and was terrific on the mic. He was the total package. CM Punk was a certified star.

He was getting a bottle of water from the mini-fridge when she said this and turned around to smile at her. He walked back to the couch and lifted her legs up so he could sit down, then he draped her legs over his own, "By the time I retire, this company will want to bury me and my legacy. I highly doubt a hall of fame induction is in my future."

"But the work you've done and have yet to do is undeniable," she told him, "the fact that you're so over with the fans. They'll literally riot if you're not inducted."

He smiled at her and placed his hand on her knee, "I do have some pretty loyal fans."

"See? That shit matters," she grabbed his water bottle from him and took a sip.

"I suppose," he pat her knee, "Speaking of loyal fans, you're getting more fans each week."

"So they have good taste," she shrugged.

"You're becoming more and more like me every day."