TITLE: Dumb Girl

AUTHOR: Kelly Rowe

EMAIL: stonecoldslut@optusnet.com.au

DISCLAIMER: The WWE and all characters belong to the almighty Vince McMahon and the WWE corp.

RATING: PG-13 (light swearing).

SUMMARY: What went through Trish's mind after she overheard Y2J and Christian's conversation.

TIMELINE: Raw 12/01/03.

DISTRIBUTION: You want you can have it; just tell me where you put it.

NOTES: Trish Straus' POV.

If I could sum up just how I feel right now in one simple word it would be *dumb*. How could *I* have believed those pretty lies that bastard Jericho told me? Everyone had warned me about him - from Lita to good old JR - about who and what he was, but oh no I had to listen to my foolish heart rather than my head and prove them all wrong. Stupid me wanted to show everybody that despite all of his posturing that deep down inside he truly was a dear sweet man.

Boy was I wrong about that.

Events leading up to my inadvertent discovery flashed through my mind refreshing my humiliation and I realized that I was still holding that pathetic little jersey that I had made especially for him. Although I felt like screwing it up and tossing it into the nearest bin I could not bring myself to do it, in a way it was the thing that had saved me from Jericho's cruel joke. If I had not been so anxious to give it to him then I would not have been there to catch the bet he made with that other asshole Christian over me and Lita.

A type of shock settled over my body as it all began to sink in. Their conversation, the bet and the blatant mockery of my budding feelings were all replaying over and over again.

Suddenly I just knew that I had to get out of there, dropping the ill-fated jersey to the ground I turned away and made for the women's locker room all the time praying that there would be no one there to see me cry, to add to my humiliation.

I was in luck and the large room was empty.

I threw myself down onto one of the hard wooden benches and let the tears of sadness and pain flow freely. I was so absorbed in myself, my own pain that I never heard the locker room door open or the soft male gasp at my horrid appearance.

"Trish? Baby, what's wrong?" Jericho's false sympathy rang out to my ears.

I looked up and saw him standing there and I just wanted to scream at him to stop the pretence, that I knew what he was up to and that the sight of him made me want to vomit. But I didn't, instead I gave him a weak unfelt smile and mumbled something about a run-in with Molly Holly. Maybe it was me wishful thinking, but I gave him the chance to redeem himself.

Unfortunately he did not.

He took me into his arms and patted me soothingly on the back, but this time I was not fooled. I simply dried my wasted tears and moved away from his all too tempting embrace. I looked deeply into those lying eyes and made up and excuse not to spend time with him tonight. Something in his eyes - an iciness - appeared and I knew that I had just had a narrow escape.

Refusing his oh so kind offer to take me back to the hotel I sat there on the bench for a long time waiting for Lita. After all I have something to discuss with her - something that will redeem my status as Raw's resident dumb girl.

End.