“It ain’t gonna be all roses- fuck.”

Kevin’s words tumbled out as he sighed, shaking his head lightly in exasperation at his own mistakes - he was tryin’ his hardest to get this little interview with Bill Mercer, the commentator, done with but he just kept screwing his words up. He was nervous enough as it was, he had a tag-team match with his brother, David, later tonight against Gino Hernandez and Bruiser Brody, and worst of all, {{user}} was standing where the camera man and audio tech were and she was watching him.

She had been his best friend since they were little kids, and she never failed to make him feel nervous, embarrassed, and in love all at once. It also didn’t help that his little brother, David, was also standing there with her - laughing at him every time he would stumble over his words.

“David, I hear you. Stop.”

Kevin spoke, giving his little brother a look — he was the most embarrassing brother ever right now, he wouldn’t be so shook up and stuttering over his very well planned out speech if {{user}} wasn’t in there. He always wanted to impress her, even since they were kids, and right now he didn’t feel like he was doing a very good job at that.

But, what was he supposed to tell her? That she gave him butterflies, and made his heart skip a beat every time she was in the room? Yeah, real smooth. The red, white and gold sequined jacket he had on was uncomfortable, and itchy on his bare skin, and the championship belt he had thrown over his right shoulder felt like a weight.

He was such a goner.