Being a wrestling fan is basically like being a parent
First, you pick your favorites. Your favorites become your children. You now have to make sure your children don’t accidentally hurt themselves, you yell at them when they do stupid things, And then you fight with other parents to protect and defend your children.
Owen tiptoed down the hall to their bedroom as quietly as
possible. Once he reached inside, he slowly closed the door behind him, careful
not to make a noise. Turning around, he eyed Amelia, who was wringing her hands
“Is that it?” she asked in a low voice, an expression of
pure anxiety on her face.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he confirmed, exhaling, “Everyone’s
“And it’s only 10 o’clock?” she sought to confirm, glancing behind
her at the digital clock on their bedside table, “This sounds too good to be
“Well don’t ruin it then,” he laughed softly, ripping off
his stain riddled shirt. Parenthood for him had reached a point where he couldn’t
tell if there was a juice stain on his shirt or a vomit stain.
“I’m not trying to ruin it,” she replied, slipping out of
her shorts, “It just sounds too good
to be true, is all.”
“Well, do you wanna wake one of them up so you can bounce
back to reality?” he accused, pulling his pants down and stepping out of them, “Or
do you want to enjoy what little time we have on something more constructive?”
He closed the small space between them, wrapping his arms around her lower back
as he pulled her in for a rushed, sloppy kiss. Her hands made their way to
either side of his cheeks as she took control of the kiss.
“I haven’t eaten since four,” she said as he pulled her old,
baggy college shirt over her head.
“I can’t even remember the last time I’ve slept for more
than two hours,” he countered, scooping her into his arms and wrapping her legs
around his waist for her. He walked them towards the bed and the two collapsed
onto it, freezing in place when the bed squeaked. Two pairs of blue eyes stared
at each other in fright.
“Do you think they heard us?” she whispered.
Owen stared blankly at her. “I really don’t care right now.”
“Well you should!” she complained as they slipped under the
covers and he shimmied out of his boxers, “Because if one of them walks in
“Amelia,” he said, cutting her off as he towered over her, “I
don’t want to be or even talk about being someone’s father or husband right now.”
She looked at him in utter confusion and amusement. “I just want to be your
boyfriend right now.” He pecked her nose and flipped them over, letting her
straddle him. “And I just want you to be my girlfriend right now, nothing else.”