Everyone wants to be Jeff Hardy, except me, Jeff Hardy. I wish people would realize that bein' on the road 200 days a year, bustin' your ass night after night, tryin' to survive on four or five hours sleep, and being chased by a bunch of sex-crazed girls ain't as great as it sounds.

Just cause I ain't into girls doesn't mean I don't appreciate my fans. I just don't appreciate being mobbed and groped while I'm tryin' to get to my car. That's why I'm standin' here in the shadows waitin' for Scott to bring the car over from the other parkin' lot. I see him pull into a parkin' space which is at the back of the fuckin' lot.

"Bastard," I mutter and see him grinnin' like he can read lips or somethin'. I pull my cap further down over my eyes and walk as fast as I can to the car, where the trunk is already open. I throw my shit inside and slam the trunk closed before climbin' in the passenger's seat. "To the bat cave, Robin!" I smirk.

"It's Peter Parker, jackass," Scott replies.

"Oh, that's right," I say. "You're Spiderman, I forgot."

"Fuck you."

"Pull over."

"No," he chuckles.

"Damn."

"I'm surprised you can stand, let alone think about sex after the other night."

"Which night ya referring to?" I ask, pretendin' I don't know. I do know. I remember real well what happened that night. I just want to hear him say it.

"The night I handcuffed you to the shower head and scrubbed that shit off you."

"I keep tellin' ya that it's body paint."

"I use body paint too but it doesn't run, streak, and get all over my opponents."

"That ain't my fault."

"I suppose it's also not your fault that you look like a freak while wearing it?" he asks.

"Hey, chicks..."

"Don't," he reprimands.

"Sorry," I reply.

"Don't worry about it," he says with a small smile as he looks over at me.

I smile back, our eyes lock for a second, and then he turns his attention back to the road.

We ain't the sappy, touchy feely type like some of the other guys on the roster and that's all right with me. So when things get too emotional like they're 'bout to right now, we change the subject or end up fuckin'.

"This ain't the way back to the hotel," I point out right on cue.

"I know."

"So why the fuck are we going this way?" I ask with a smirk.

"You'll see, asshole," he smirks back.

"Fucker," I laugh and push my seat back.

"And damn proud of it."

"I bet," I say. "Hey Scott?"

"Yes Jeff?"

"Did you mean what you said on Heat?" I ask.

"Which part?"

"The quittin' part."

"What do you think?"

"I never know what to think when it comes to you," I laugh softly.

"What would you say if I told you I was seriously thinking of quitting?" he asks.

"I'd say take me with ya."

"I just might, Jeff," he replies quietly. "I just might."

The rest of the ride to wherever we're goin' is quiet and I eventually drift off. Sometime later, I feel his hand on my thigh, squeezin' firmly but not roughly.

"We're here."

"Where?" I ask as I blink sleepily.

"The beach," he replies. "Come on."

I squint and try to make out the time on my watch. "Scott, it's almost one in the fuckin' mornin' and you want me to walk on the beach with you?" I groan.

"Yes."

I sigh and do the only thing I can - get out of the car. I stretch my achin' muscles then shut the car door.

"Jeff, let's go!" He's already out of the car, walkin' towards the water, and I have to jog to catch up to him.

"Just wait a fuckin' minute," I pant.

He stops and stares at me.

"I'm tired."

"We won't be here too long," he reassures me.

I nod and we start walkin', neither one of us says a word. The cool night air brushes against my face, forcin' me to stay awake and every now and then our hands touch, remindin' me just how close we are.

"Wanna come home with me this week?" he asks suddenly.

"Only if you promise not to handcuff me to the sink," I smirk.

"Can't promise that."

"Well, fuck."

"Now that I can promise."

I laugh and shove him towards the water. He loses his balance and starts to fall backwards but not before pulling me with him.

"How many times have I told you that if I go down, I'm taking you with me?" he whispers with an arrogant smirk when he lands on his back with me on top of him.

"Lotsa times but we were naked and smashed."

Scott laughs and leans up to kiss me. He instinctively slips his fingers in my hair. He has this thing about my hair; he loves to run his fingers through it and stroke it when he thinks I'm sleepin'. I know it's his way of being affectionate.

I slowly pull away and look into his hazel eyes. "Scott?" I whisper.

"Yes?"

"I...um...nothin'."

"It doesn't sound like nothing," he replies and trails a finger down my cheek.

"It ain't important," I say.

"Well, if you're sure."

I nod slowly. I want to tell him how I really feel about him, say those three little words but I can't. If there's one thing I've learned about relationships, it's that there ain't nothin' worse than unrequited love.

"I have something to tell you."

"Huh?"

"I have to tell you something," he repeats softly.

"What?" I whisper.

"I'm leaving the fed."

"You...you are?"

"Yes," he replies. "Next week is my last show."

"Oh." My head feels like it's spinnin' and my heart has just broken into a million pieces.

"I was thinking afterwards we could take a trip to Cameron."

"Cameron? What for?"

"To get your stuff."

"My...stuff?"

"Well, you can't move to Jersey with just the clothes on your back. Okay, I guess you of all people could..."

"Move to Jersey?" I'm startin' to sound like a defective tape recorder.

"Yes, you're moving back to Jersey with me," he says. "You didn't think I was leaving you, did you?"

"Yeah."

"You dumbfuck," he grins. "I'd never go anywhere with you and if you tell anyone I just said that, I'll kick your ass."

I laugh and hug him. "You're such an asshole."

"You like my asshole."

"Scott!"

"Oh please, now is not the time to start acting innocent."

"I was innocent till you corrupted me," I grin.

"Bullshit."

"I was!"

"Right and I was a model citizen."

"You know you were my first," I whisper seriously.

"I know," he breathes. "Believe me, I know." He kisses me deeply and pulls my body tight against his.

It's cold but that don't matter. It don't matter that the sand is wet and the waves are washing over us. It don't matter that he may never say what I want to hear, cause I know it's best left unsaid.

*~*End*~*