Your classmates just didn’t understand you, and you resolved early on that that was okay.  People were just different.  You never got angry about it.  They just had different interests, different priorities than you.  And though most of them went on to university just like you did, you knew it didn’t bring the same feeling to them as it did to you: the feeling of freedom, of independence.  The feeling that finally, finally, like-minded people surrounded you and they had the same drive you did.

University changed things for you drastically.  In second year, you fell for Thomas Brown and dated for ten months, but even he couldn’t handle your academic prowess; how you would rather actually do your readings than attend parties with him and his friends.  The split was mutual but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less.  Eventually, you found a core group of people who shared the same priorities as you did and actually encouraged your academic pursuits.  Many followed you in their own fields of study, and one night, in a pub near campus, sharing beers and celebrating that everyone’s applications to grad school were finally submitted, you finally felt loved, accomplished, respected; all the good things you wanted to feel in high school but never did. And now, you found yourself in a pub in Brooklyn, dragged by your best friend Amy who knew how to handle her liquor better than anybody else you knew.  It was never supposed to be a quiet night out (Amy never did quiet nights out) but you hoped for something a bit more low-key.  There was a group of you: Amy, the ringleader; Joe, the affable bearded second-in-command; Daniela and Sebastian, the married soon-to-be professors; you, the quiet but headstrong gin lover; and Tristan, the human equivalent of a golden retriever puppy. You were having a blast – you always did when you were out with your group – and then it happened. You saw him, tall and lanky, enter the bar with another guy wearing a rounded pair of sunglasses.  You tried to keep your focus on your gin and tonic, or on the story Daniela was telling, but you couldn’t stop your eyes from wandering to him, now at the bar, ordering a drink with his shorter friend.   When he caught your eye, he started to do the exact same thing. You both played the game for about half an hour.  He and his friend stayed near the bar, chatting amongst themselves, sometimes with the bartender.  You stayed relatively quiet, listening to whatever story your friends were telling, or commenting here and there on the topic of discussion.  Your waitress had brought you another gin and tonic in the meantime.  Amy refused another drink, which was unusual for her.  She would have usually ordered the table a round of shots by now. “Nora, can you come with me to the bar to get another drink?” Amy said all of the sudden, standing up from her seat and grabbing your arm before you had a chance to reply.  She basically dragged you towards the end of the bar, still in sight of the lanky man and his shorter friend.  Not even bothering to try and call over the bartender, she sat you down at small, free, four-seater table tucked into the corner, right beside the end of the bar.  “Okay, that guy you’ve been staring at is way cute,” she smiled devilishly. “What are you talking about?” you played dumb. “Oh my God, get over yourself,” Amy narrowed her eyes.  “Please tell me it’s the lanky one, cause I caught the eye of the other one, and God he looks like a good time.” “Amy!” “Am I right or am I right?” You blushed for a moment before conceding defeat.  “Yes, the lanky one.” “He’s right up your alley,” Amy commented.  “Although I don’t think Tristan would be very happy.” You rolled your eyes slightly.  It was a known fact amongst you, Amy, Joe, Daniela and Sebastian that Tristan harboured a crush on you.  He had told Sebastian, who of course told his wife, and pretty soon everyone knew, but you weren’t sure if Tristan knew that you knew.  It was so messy – what you imaged high school drama to be like, except it was happening amongst six friends all getting their PhDs soon.  You weren’t even sure whether or not Tristan actually wanted everyone to know or not, but if he told Sebastian, surely he knew the entire group would find out eventually?  You liked him well enough but never saw him as boyfriend material.  To you, your relationship was purely platonic.  “Don’t bring him up, please.” “I bet he’s looking over here right now and asking Joe where we went,” Amy said. Before you could get another word in, a British accent interrupted yours and Amy’s conversation.  “Excuse me ladies, do you mind if my friend and I sit here?  All the other tables are full.” You and Amy looked up at the same time to see the shorter friend, a beer in his hand, looking down at you both with a smirk on his face.  The tall, lanky one stood behind him, his own beer half-empty.   You noticed a few tables around you empty and smirked, giving a quick look to Amy, who caught it.  She was already smiling.  “Of course you boys can,” she said.  With the invitation, the boys made their way into their seats – the lanky one beside you, the shorter one beside Amy.  “I hope that English accent isn’t fake,” Amy said. “Absolutely not,” the short one shook his head.  “Born and bred English, miss.  The both of us.” “Are you from London?” Amy asked. “Fuck no,” he spit out, causing both women to laugh.  “I’ll do you one better.  Here’s the first game we’ll play – try and guess where in England I’m from,” he winked at Amy. You already knew, but wanted to give Amy a fighting chance.  You smiled as Amy started to name English cities that she knew.  “Birmingham?  Liverpool?  Newcastle?”  All were met with a shake of the head.  It didn’t take long for her to feel exasperated.  “God, help me out here!” she looked to you. “East Anglia,” you said, a small smile playing on your lips.  “I want to say Norwich, but I know I’m wrong.  Maybe Cambridge?” The man looked shocked, and you knew you had gotten it dead on.  He bowed his head to you and raised his drink to toast to your correct guess.  “Your friend is a genius.  How the hell did you know that?” he asked you. Amy decided to answer for you.  “Nora’s the smartest cookie you’ll ever meet.  And I’m not exaggerating when I say that.” “Well I’ll be damned,” the man laughed.  You were acutely aware that the lanky one hadn’t said anything yet, that he was only really staring at you for most of the time, looking only to his friend when he spoke.   “So what’s our prize for guessing correctly?” Amy asked, cocking her head to the side.  God, she was such a great flirt.  You would kill to be able to do that. “You two get to learn our names,” the man responded cheekily.  “I’m Marty,” he extended his hand, shaking both yours and Amy’s politely. You turned towards the lanky one and noticed he was already looking at you.  “I’m Zack,” he extended his hand out to you first. “Nora,” you smiled, shaking his hand, looking straight into his eyes.  “It’s nice to meet you.” “Quick!  Where’s he from?” Marty asked, pointing at Zack. “He’s said two words!” you argued.  “Say something!” “Do you come here often?” Zack asked, a wry smile on his face. “Kentish,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes for dramatic effect because this was just so easy, taking a sip of your drink. Marty’s jaw was practically on the floor.  He looked to Amy, who was giggling, the straw of her drink seductively in between her teeth.  “How does she do that?” “I told you, she’s the smartest cookie you’ll ever meet!”

“Can I take you out to dinner?”

Our bodies, our choice!  Our bodies, our choice!   We’re here to fight!  Don’t take back our rights! This is what democracy looks like! Hands too small, can’t build a wall!  Hands too small, can’t build a wall! Surrounded by crowds of women, you chanted along with everyone else, fist raised in the air.  Beside you, Amy held up a sign that read “Nasty Women Get PhDs”, with arrows pointing down to the both of you.  You had both traveled to Washington DC to participate in the Women’s March in January, complete with ‘Nasty Woman’ t-shirts.   Now, on the International Women’s Day, you were participating again, except this time in your home base of New York City.   Ever since the night you met Zack, the two of you had been texting.  The rest of the night had been full of more talking and even dancing.  Zack seemed to be completely enraptured by everything you had to say, especially during your more than hour-long discussion about your research for your PhD in political theory.  You were almost positive Amy wasn’t explaining her own research into Classical Rome to Marty, but it was nice to have someone so interested in what you did with your time.  It was one of those nights you lost track of time.  You talked and you talked and you talked – him about his life as a professional wrestler, you about your experiences at Columbia – interrupted only by the waitress bringing you more drinks and your friends saying goodbye to you and Amy.  When Marty found out there was a deejay downstairs playing classic music, he forced everyone downstairs where you danced the night away. He was busy with traveling and wrestling, you with your research and responsibilities as a TA, so you weren’t able to meet up again.  But that didn’t stop you from developing feelings.  It was stupid of you, when you really think about it: chance encounter with a seemingly perfect guy at a bar, find out one of the main requirements of his job is traveling all over the world, and still fall for him anyway.  Amy encouraged you, because it meant she’d see Marty again – they had hooked up that night and it was all she reminisced about these days, because it was apparently that good.  You and Zack hadn’t hooked up, mostly because you were a nervous wreck, and he could tell, and he didn’t want to force you into something you were clearly so nervous about.  ‘If it means we should get to know each other better before anything happens, I’m okay with that.  I was planning for this to last longer than one night anyway.’ “God I love a good protest,” Amy’s voice brought you back to reality.  “This is the kind of shit I live for.  I’m so glad I can do this with you.” You heart swelled at Amy’s words.  She said things like this to you all the time, but it never got boring.  For someone who didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, those types of comments never got old to you.  You cherished them completely, and Amy knew it.  “Me too,” you smiled at her, hearing the next chant being started beside you.  “Women’s rights are human rights!  Women’s rights are human rights!” you began to chant. As the two of your paraded through the streets and ended up in Washington Square Park, with the infamous arch in view, you snapped pictures of clever signs and took videos of the crowd chanting in all their glory.  As a student of politics you couldn’t deny that you were in your element, amongst all the chanting, signs, and banners.  You wondered to yourself if you could use all these photos and videos in a lecture one day, when you taught your own undergrad students – if you were going to become a professor, of course.  You weren’t 100% sure what you were going to do once you got your PhD.  You didn’t really want to think about it yet, although you knew you should be.   No ban!  No fear!  Immigrants are welcome here!  No ban!  No fear!  Immigrants are welcome here!   The chants became louder and louder, more passionate with each breath.  You looked around yourself in admiration – the mothers and daughters that surrounded you; the fathers accompanying and supporting them; the high school and college students standing atop the edge of the fountain.   And then you saw him.  Zack Sabre Jr., standing tall on the edge of the fountain, chanting with his fist in the air.   You were pretty sure your jaw dropped.  What was he doing here?  What was he doing here?!  For half a second you thought it could be a doppelganger, but you knew that was impossible.  It was him.  It was really him. “Zack!” you yelled out, trying to get his attention.  “Zack!”  The sheer volume of everyone cheering made Zack unable to hear your calls.  You decided to move closer, manoeuvring yourself through the crowd to get closer to him.  You didn’t notice Amy looking over, or her smirk, as you decided to move closer to him. “ZACK!” you screamed at the top of your lungs through the chants.  He stopped mid-chant, looking around to see who had called his name.  When his eyes landed on you, smiling up at him, he broke out into a wide grin.  He jumped off the fountain, meeting you where you stood.   Before another word could come out of your mouth, he bent down and scooped you up in his arms, giving you a strong hug.  You inhaled his scent and couldn’t help but relax in his arms.  “What are you doing here?” you asked him. “Supporting the march, of course,” he smiled.  “Why am I not surprised that I see you here?” “I can’t…I…wow!” you were breathless.  You pulled away from him for a quick moment to look at him, make sure that it was actually him you were hugging.  When you saw him looking down at you, a sparkle in his eye, you couldn’t help but smile. “Are you busy after this?” he asked suddenly, his hands dropping from around your waist to grab your own hands.   “No,” you answered quickly, shaking your head.  “No, no.  Absolutely not.  I’m not busy.” “Can I take you out to dinner?  A proper date this time, now that I’m in town,” he offered. “Yes,” you nodded your head vehemently, probably too over-eagerly.  He smiled, and you weren’t sure if it was at your answer of ‘yes’ or the fact you were nodding your head like a walrus that just caught a fish.   You stayed together for the rest of the march, Amy playing it cool when you brought him over to her.  You told her of your dinner plans and she wiggled her eyebrows at you, telling you the equivalent of “get some” in Latin.  You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but laugh.  Zack didn’t hear, thankfully.   When the march was over, you and Zack popped into a taxi and went over to Williamsburg in Brooklyn, where his apartment was.  He surprised you with ramen, both of you ordering the vegan variety (him because he was actually vegan, you because you took his recommendation seriously).  When the bowls arrived and you tasted its deliciousness, you thought back to undergrad, making instant ramen noodles with other people in your dorm.  You basically lived off the stuff during your Master’s.  It was the quintessential student food. “This is so much better than the powdered dust packets and hot water I’m used to at one in the morning,” you said, slurping some of the broth from the spoon.   Zack snorted and laughed at your awful joke, hanging his head in embarrassment as he reached across the table to grab your hand.  “Oh my God, I didn’t even think of the abysmal grad school diet,” he mused as he rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand.  “I’m so sorry.  I should have taken you for steak instead.” “God no.  This is great.  I have too many steak dinners whenever I attend conferences.  This is a welcome change,” you told him. Zack smiled.  “I bet you’re sharing the room with a bunch of toffs.” You arched your eyebrow.  “You don’t even know the half of it.  I could go on and on.” “Tell me,” he urged, squeezing your hand.   “No way,” you shook your head.  “It’s not exactly date talk.” “Nonsense.  I’d love to hear about the things you’re doing,” Zack smiled slightly.  “Besides, we already established you’re neither graceful nor sexy, especially while dancing to Stevie Wonder.” You couldn’t help but chuckle as he brought up the first night you met.  “You got that right.” “I’m serious, Nora,” Zack said.  You looked at him, and he had the most earnest look on his face.  “Tell me more about what you do.  It’s so fascinating to me.” And so you did.  You spoke at length at the type of conferences you spoke at, the different people you met there – professors, former politicians and heads of countries, and yes, even stuck up toffs – and he ate it all up, asking questions and making comments and urging you to talk more and more.  You were probably going to get a sore throat.  It was all worth it.   By the time you two left the restaurant, you were hand in hand, unable to keep your eyes off of him.  When he proposed going back to his place, you didn’t hesitate this time in saying yes.  And when he kissed you, in the privacy of his bedroom after he politely offered you a cup of tea and you politely declined, you knew that there was something, something, between the two of you, and you were both terrified and excited of what the future would hold.  

“I’m flirting with you.”

You still were not 100% sure what was going on between you and Zack, but what shocked you the most was that you didn’t really mind.  You and Zack were both adults, and you had very adult conversations about this, and you were satisfied with whatever this was.  Officially dating?  You didn’t think so.  Was there a label?  No.  Friends with benefits?  Probably the closest thing you could think of to describe your relationship, but at the same time, you had both acknowledged there were feelings between the two of you.  You both were just fully aware that you led completely different, somewhat incompatible lifestyles.  But that didn’t stop the feelings.  It didn’t stop the handholding; the kisses; the cuddling; the movie nights and late night conversations about music, life, research, wrestling, and everything in between.   It had been just over three months since you met.  In between his travels for wrestling, he always came back to his apartment in Williamsburg, and that’s when you two saw each other.  You hated to admit it, but when he was in town, you were at your happiest.  The sky seemed just a little bit bluer, the sun just a little bit brighter.  You two would explore new restaurants, indulge in vegan desserts, and wander around Brooklyn or Manhattan before retreating back to either his or yours. Whatever it was, it was perfect.   But now, it would be the longest you would ever be away from him.  He had to leave for Japan for two months, where he really made his bread and butter, and you knew you would miss him.  You’d bury yourself in your research, of course, and work adamantly to make yourself reach your goal of at least another 20 pages written for your dissertation.  You wondered if he’d distract himself, too. When you got home from a day of lectures and tutorial teaching, you mulled about the small apartment you shared with Amy, making yourself an unappetizing dinner.  When you made your way into your room, you looked at your heaping pile of laundry and decided to do a load.  As you separated your colours, out of the corner of your eye, you saw an unfamiliar blue garment near your pillow.  When you picked it up, you grinned to yourself, realizing it was one of Zack’s zip-up hoodies.  It hadn’t been washed – there was still the small ice cream stain on the left side.  Then you noticed another one of his hoodies, a grey one, underneath your pillow, and your grin turned into a full-blown smile.   That cheeky bastard.  He definitely left them here on purpose.  God, it even smelled like him. You slipped on the navy blue one as you did your chores, starting the laundry and cleaning up your dirty dishes.  Once you were finished, you decided to sit at your desk in your room to revise the last of what you had written in your dissertation.  Just as you were able to call it a night, the Skype icon on your laptop began to wiggle, and the familiar ringtone began to blare into your headphones.  The thumbnail of Zack’s face appeared on screen, and you smiled to yourself, subconsciously running your fingers through your hair to smooth it out.  You pressed accept and waited for everything to connect.   “Hello darling,” you saw Zack smiling on the other end.   “Hi,” you were unable to control the size of the smile on your face.  “I see you got to Japan all in one piece.” “I did,” Zack nodded his head.  “Killer flight though.” “Did you get to sleep?” “Just a little bit,” he shrugged his shoulders.  “Not like when I’m in bed with you.” You felt your cheeks flush.  “Charmer.” “I’m flirting with you.  Can’t you tell?” “I bet you do that to all the girls,” you said, rolling your eyes teasingly.   “No,” he shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips.  “But I see you’ve found my hoodies.” You looked down at your torso as if you didn’t realize you were wearing an article of his clothing.  “I did.  It’s so comfy.” “Now you understand why I wear them all the time,” he smiled.  “Next time I’m in town I’ll bring you to Suplex, and we’ll get something made for you.” You would definitely take him up on his generous offer, but something inside of you wanted to tease him just a little bit more.  “Why would we get something made for me when I can just steal your hoodies?” you asked, a small smile playing on your lips. “I won’t have any clothes left, woman!” Zack laughed.   “Do you leave your clothes in all the bedrooms you’re ever in?” “Only for you, darling,” he said, licking his lips.  You saw his expression change slightly.  He was eyeing you more carefully, really taking in the visual of you wearing his clothes.  “You look sexy in my clothes,” he said in a low voice.  “So sexy.” You couldn’t help but blush at how he was practically undressing you with his eyes.  Despite vocalizing how good you looked with it on, it seemed as if all he wanted to do was take it off of you – even though he was thousands of miles away.  “Thanks darling,” you said, mimicking his English accent.   “Do you do that to all your gentleman callers?  Put on their clothes and make them go crazy?” he asked, biting down on his bottom lip subconsciously. You smiled shyly.  “No.  Only for you, darling,” you repeated his earlier sentiments.   “I miss you already,” he blurted out.  He huffed a little bit, looking down shyly.  It was clear that he meant it, but that his mouth spoke quicker than his head could tell him not to say it out loud – at least, not just yet.   “I miss you too,” you said.   “I knew I would…I just didn’t imagine it would happen this soon,” Zack admitted.  “Seeing you on a computer screen just made it that much more real.” You weren’t sure what to think about what Zack was saying.  Obviously you took everything to heart – you knew he meant every word – but you were also painfully aware that things between you weren’t official.  He was saying such sweet things and making you feel like you were the only girl in the world.  “Just think…you’ll be back in seven weeks,” you tried to keep his morale up. “I’ve set up one of those countdown clocks on my phone.  52 days to be exact,” he smiled shyly.   “Not that you’re counting,” you winked. He said nothing, smiling and looking down shyly for a moment.  “What time is it there?” “It’s just past 11 at night,” you informed him.  “What about there?” “Just past noon lunch.  Am I keeping you up?  Do you need to go to bed?” “Absolutely not,” you said.  “I didn’t have a particularly busy day.  Am I keeping you from eating?” “I wouldn’t have called you if you were,” he said.  “You know nothing gets between me and food.” You couldn’t help but giggle slightly.  As you two continued to talk about his dojo training (which sounded like serious business), about the shows he would perform in, about his colleagues, and more, you settled into a relaxed, earnest happiness.  Just hearing his voice put you at ease.   It was two hours before your eyes started to get heavy.  You had moved to your bed by this point, and were lying on your side, still in Zack’s hoodie.  You had been listening to everything he had to say intently the entire time, but you were finding it harder and harder as time passed.  You tried not to let it show, because you wanted to keep talking with him, keep seeing him through the computer screen.  It made him feel that much closer, 13 hours apart. When you started rubbing your eyes, Zack knew it was time to call it a night.  “You could have told me to shut up an hour ago, you know,” he said suddenly, a small smile playing on his lips.  “I wouldn’t have minded.” “No,” you said as if it was the stupidest idea you ever heard.  “Why would I do that?” “Because my voice is annoying and you need to sleep.” “Nonsense.  I could listen to you all day because of your accent,” you said. Zack laughed.  “Ah, so it’s just my accent, is it?  The actual content that comes out of my mouth isn’t remotely interesting otherwise?” “Nope,” you smirked. Zack scrunched up his face in protest.  “You’re mean.” “You’ll get over it.” “I’m going to let you go to bed now darling,” Zack said.  “I’m not going to be responsible for you falling asleep during a lecture.” “Zaaaaack,” you whined. “I’m going to be training all day tomorrow, so I can’t reach out, but I promise to call you the day after tomorrow, same time,” he said.  It was your turn to scrunch up your face now.  “I promise,” he emphasized. “Okay,” you said, your voice soft.  “Have a good lunch,” you smiled meekly.   “Have a good night’s sleep,” he said, blowing you an air kiss.   It was so cheesy, but so incredibly charming.

“You’re the best part of me.”

How had it been a year? One year since you met Zack.  Six months since you both acted on the crazy idea that, hell fucking yes, you two should be in a relationship despite being on virtually opposite ends of the earth more than half of the time.  Now, you found yourself in Reseda, California, after a series of guest lectures done at UCLA, backstage at PWG’s Battle of Los Angeles.  Zack was participating in the tournament, and as a former PWG World Champion, you had high hopes for him.  He had high hopes for himself.  You weren’t sure if he’d be winning the tournament or not, mostly because he refused to tell you – even after you pouted, bribed him with his favourite dessert…hell, you even offered sex.  His mouth stayed zipped through it all.  His reasoning was because he wanted you to watch the entire thing like a real, true wrestling fan.  You could see his point, but you thought it valid that as a girlfriend, you’d want to know his fate ahead of time. Marty was there, which didn’t make you feel completely alone amongst the giant litany of other wrestlers you were introduced to.  Everyone was very relaxed and chilled, not to mention friendly and welcoming to an outsider like you.  You were convinced that you stuck out like a sore thumb, but a really nice woman named Candice took it upon herself to be attached to your hip.  As you ate your lunch – Mexican food from a food truck down the street everyone in the room raved about – you listened intently as the wrestlers spoke about their matches.  It all sounded so foreign to you, but you were positive that if they came to see you at UCLA earlier in the week, they’d feel like fish out of water too.   As you sat in the ring with Candice, the man introduced to you as Chuck Taylor intervened in your conversation politely, joking that Candice shouldn’t be corrupting you – that just because Candice was cute, it didn’t mean you had to listen to everything she had to say.  Candice defended herself, citing the fact that you were “secretly Canadian” as reason why you two were destined to become best friends.  Chuck wasn’t having any of it.   “But wait, so are you the doctor that Zack’s been mentioning?” Chuck asked suddenly, throwing you a bit off guard.  You knew Zack would have mentioned you to his friends by now, but you were never sure how truly in-depth he went.  You were always curious to know what he said about you.   “Well, I’m technically not a doctor yet…but I guess so?” you offered. “So can you be our doctor when you become one?” he asked again. “Oh, oh no!  Not that type of doctor,” you shook your head.  “I faint at the sight of blood.  I’m getting a doctorate in politics.” “Oh, that type of doctor,” Chuck Taylor came to the realization.  “So are you gonna like, run the world one day?” You couldn’t help but chuckle at his comment.  “That’s the plan,” you winked. “I’d trust you,” Chuck deadpanned.  “I mean, I met you all of an hour ago but I trust you.” “Me too,” Candice piped in.  “I’d trust any Canadian to rule the world.” “I wouldn’t!” Zack called out from the outside of the ring.  “They’d make us bathe in maple syrup and eat poutine for breakfast, lunch, and dinner!” “Way to feed the stereotype!” Candice yelled back at him.  “While we’re at it, why don’t you pop around shop and get me some fish and chips and a pint of Guinness?” she put on her best impression of Zack. “A pint of Guinness?  I’m not Irish, Candice, for God’s sake,” Zack rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean!” Zack got up from his chair, standing at the side of the ring, near where you and Candice were sitting.  “Care to explore any more British stereotypes?” he asked Candice. “I can’t think of any right now because I’m too tired,” she smiled.  Looking over to you, she placed her hand on your lap gently.  “I hope you don’t mind, but I call your boyfriend Pip Pip Innit when he pisses me off, which is about 67% of the time we’re around each other.” You laughed out loud at the nickname, glancing over at Zack who was hanging his head.  Clearly he didn’t want you knowing about this nickname.  “That’s fucking brilliant,” you said through your laughing.  “Oh, I’m going to have to borrow that.” “It’ll be our little nickname,” Candice affirmed. “I need to get you away from her,” Zack said, causing you and Candice to laugh again.  “Come darling,” he said, extending his hand for you to hold.  “I’ll show you around the building – you’ll see where you’ll stay until my match happens.  Maybe we’ll stumble upon Legion Larry.” Although slightly reluctant to leave Candice, you slid out of the ring (with the help of Zack – you were seriously so ungraceful in every way) and followed him past the curtain, revealing the backstage area.  It was small, as you imagined it would be, a maze of corridors leading to small rooms (offices for the Legion, you guessed).  Zack held your hand tightly in his, and when you looked up at him, he automatically looked down at you.  “You alright?” he asked in a soft voice. “Yeah,” you nodded your head.  “I’m actually really excited for tonight.  It’ll be fun to actually watch you wrestle live instead of through a YouTube video.” Zack smiled, and before either of you said another word, he pulled you close to his body and practically dragged you into an empty room, locking the door quickly behind him.  You only had a moment to look around – there was a desk, a few filing cabinets, even a whiteboard on one of the walls, which meant this was definitely someone’s office – before you had the sense to ask what in the world he was doing. “Shhhhh…” he put his finger over your lip.  “Stop asking questions.” He bent down to kiss you.  There was a certain feeling to it; the way his hands settled on the small of your back before wandering up and down underneath your shirt.  Your skin felt like it was on fire.  It always did when he touched you.  He just had that effect on you.   “What about everyo --” “Stop asking questions,” he repeated, more seriously but with a smirk.  Instead of going back to kissing you, he looked down at you, his eyes trying to tell you something his lips weren’t quite ready to say yet.  “Thank you for coming to this.  It really means a lot to me that you took time to be here.” The sincerity in his voice almost made you cry.  You both knew that this whole thing, this whole relationship, was crazy.  You were away from each other most of the time, having Skype dinner dates instead of real ones.  The most popular question you asked him was ‘Where are you right now?’, followed closely by ‘What time is it there?’.  Normal people didn’t have relationships like this.  But you did.  And even though it was hard, even though sometimes you physically ached because Zack wasn’t lying in bed with you, even though sometimes you cried because the sweaters he would leave behind would stop smelling like him and start smelling like you instead since you wore them so often, it was all worth it to you.   Biting your lip, you stood on your tippy toes and pressed your lips to his.  You snaked your arms around his neck and pressed your body against yours.  You pulled away slightly, just enough to have your lips still grazing his.  “You think these walls are soundproof?” Zack smirked, picking you up and pinning you against the door.  “Let’s find out.” His hands were everywhere, as were his lips.  Every time you and Zack were intimate, it was passionate and left you wanting to do it over and over again.  He always, always made you sure you were attended to, and vice versa.  It started against the door but finished on the desk (you didn’t want to think about who had to work here once all these wrestlers were gone) with your legs wrapped around him.  It was so heated that the both of you were catching your breaths, trying to come down from your mutual highs.  Despite the fact you were both out of breath, Zack took to giving you one last kiss, and you were aware of the fact that he was still in you.   You looked directly into his eyes, as they seemed to search for something in you.  You could feel his chest heaving against yours.  Grazing his lips with your thumb, you said what had been on your mind all day.  “I love you.” He took a moment to take in the words.  “And I love you,” he said in a breathless voice.  “You are the best part of me.” Later that night, as you squirmed in your seat watching Marty ‘break’ someone’s finger, held your breath when Candice dove off the top rope, or cringed at the way Zack bent his opponent’s limbs, you felt an overwhelming sense of bliss that felt like it would never go away.  You felt the giddiness of a schoolgirl.  And it was all because of Zack.  

“You are the single best thing that has ever happened to me.”

You made it.  Graduation.  You were officially Doctor Nora Collins.   Your dad had flown in from Toronto to see you graduate for the third time.  You were his only child, so anything and everything you did was met by grand celebratory gestures from him.  He actually stopped in the airport just to buy you flowers and you were sure he’d have another bouquet for you today.  Your apartment was going to smell of roses and wildflowers for a week.   Despite the emptiness you felt about Zack not being able to make it because of his busy schedule in Japan, you were excited to have your dad with you.  He was staying in New York City for a week, finally taking some time off from his job as a lawyer.  He hadn’t taken a vacation in years, since he jokingly reminded you “Someone needs to pay for your schooling, Nora,” though you had been on full scholarship for both your Master’s and PhD programs.  To be able to spend a week with him would be fun.  You had planned some great activities: he was a big foodie, so you knew you’d be eating well at some of New York’s best restaurants for the entire week.  He wanted to go to Ellis Island, so you bought the boat tickets.  You both loved to cycle, so you thought to cycle through Central Park with him.   Though you had walked across the stage twice before, this time was the most special.  Years of hard word culminated in this moment and, if you could be honest, you couldn’t have been prouder of yourself.  This was your best accomplishment to date, the one that meant the most to you.  There was a polite applause for you, and you knew the loud whistle was from your dad.  You smiled at the president of the university, shook his hand, and shook the hands of all the others on stage as well.  You were handed your diploma before stepping off the stage.  You were sure your smile was beaming ear to ear.  You only wished for Zack to be there; to see you walk across the stage and become Dr. Nora Collins. After the ceremony, you entered into a giant crowd of waiting family.  This was typical, and you immediately took out your phone and texted your dad, asking him where he was.  You looked around, trying to see through groups of people hugging their families or posing for pictures.  When your dad texted back his location, you began walking towards it.  You were thankful that you were wearing flats because you saw a lot of women’s heels sinking into the grass.   “Nora!” you heard a voice call your name.  It definitely did not sound like your dad.  “Nora!” You looked around you – to your left, then to your right – only for your eyes to lay upon Zack, in a smart navy blue suit, holding a small bouquet of flowers. You stood still for a moment, in complete and utter shock.  He was supposed to be in Japan.  You were supposed to be mad at him.  You were supposed to be longing for him to be with you.  He wasn’t supposed to be standing there with flowers and his dumb grin plastered on his face, looking like he belonged on the cover of GQ thanks to his navy suit fitting him like a glove.   You did the first thing you thought of doing: you dashed towards him and launched yourself on to him.  He grabbed you with perfect timing and picked you up, your feet kicking back dramatically.  God, you guys probably looked like a movie scene.  You crashed your lips against his and he responded just as feverishly. “What are you doing here?!” you demanded of him, though of course you fully knew the answer.  You wanted him to explain to you exactly how he managed to be in New York despite endless shows in Japan. “I pulled some strings, and you have me for 72 hours,” he said.  “You honestly thought I would miss this?” “But you said --” “Besides wrestling you are the single best thing that has ever fucking happened to me,” he said, kissing you again quickly.  “I love you so fucking much, Nora.  I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” You crashed your lips on to his again, savouring the feeling of his lips against yours.  You hadn’t seen him in almost two months.  He was real.  He was there.  For you. When you heard another voice call your name, you definitely knew it was that of your father.  You stopped kissing Zack and he set you down fairly quickly.  “Dad!” you exclaimed. “This must be the famous Zack,” he said as he approached the two of you.  Zack stood pin straight and played with the button on his suit jacket nervously.  Your dad extended his hand and Zack shook it politely.   “It’s nice to finally meet you Mr. Collins,” Zack said. “Weren’t you supposed to be in Japan?” your dad asked. “I managed to convince my superiors to give me three days off,” Zack informed him.  “I definitely don’t want to intrude on your time with your daughter though.  I know you two have a lot of things planned and --” “Nonsense!” your dad exclaimed.  “You’re more than welcome to partake in whatever we’re doing.  Hell, I wasn’t even supposed to meet you during this trip yet here you are.  I went to spend as much time with you as possible.” “Dad,” you scolded him slightly.  “Stop scaring him.  He’s probably jetlagged.” “Anywho, we’ve got a lot of time until our dinner reservations, don’t we?  It’s for six, and it’s only two-thirty,” your dad changed the subject immediately, looking at his watch.  “Let’s take some pictures.  Then I’m going to the Museum of Natural History since you never want to go, and I’ll meet you at…what’s the restaurant called again?  Alexander?  Daniel!  I’ll meet you and Zack at Daniel at six.  I’ll call them to make the reservation for three.” You were thankful that your dad was so understanding and…well, mature about Zack surprising you, so after you took a bunch of pictures and returned your robes, you hailed your dad a taxi to go to the Natural History Museum while you and Zack returned to your apartment.   After a few heated rounds throughout your apartment, you laid in bed together, limbs entwined with each other’s.  The feel of Zack’s bare skin on your own, his calloused fingers grazing lazily up your thigh, over the curve of your ass, and back down again sent shivers through your body.  You tried not to think about the fact that you only had him for 72 hours; that he had to be an ocean away from you again. “God, I fucking missed you,” you breathed out, still trying to catch your breath.  You kissed him quickly.  “You have no fucking idea.” “Oh, I think I do,” Zack smiled, leaning in to kiss you again.  Except this time, he didn’t pull away like you had.  He kept kissing you, moving from your lips to your neck and collarbone.   “Zack, please,” you moaned out as he began to nip at your skin.  You had barely recovered from the last round.  His stamina was outrageous. Your lazy attempt to make him stop were futile; if anything, they only made him more eager as he kissed his way back up to your ear.  Just when you thought he’d move back to your lips, he whispered something you weren’t expecting.  “Will you come to Japan with me?” Your body immediately stiffened at his words.  You pulled away briefly, making sure you were looking him in the eye.  “Like, to move there?” “No, silly,” Zack said, and you couldn’t help but relax slightly.  “I’m saying, if I buy you a ticket, will you come visit me in Japan soon?” It didn’t take you very long to weigh your options.  You had jobs to apply for, plus universities were recruiting you to become part of their faculty and teach.  These weren’t paltry universities, either; UC-Berkeley had called, as did the University of Chicago.  Your thesis advisor was well connected and had mentioned your name to numerous people, and this is where you found yourself.  But interviews wouldn’t happen for at least another month, and you had time to burn until then.  No money, but time.  “Of course.  But I’d buy my own ticket, Zack.” “Nonsense.  Now that I’m earning that Japanese money I’m buying a ticket,” he smiled, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. “Zaaaaack.” “Let me do this for you,” he mumbled, his lips grazing against your skin.  “You deserve it, doctor.” You couldn’t help but feel a smile creep on to your face.  His generosity was one for the ages.  You’d never been to Japan and you didn’t think you’d ever be able to repay him for what he wanted to do for you.  “How can I deny you?” “Just don’t say no.”

“The world works in mysterious ways.”

As Zack brought in the last of the boxes, you couldn’t help but focus on something else besides his arm muscles flexing: the slim, diamond band on your ring finger. Zack had gotten it for you two weeks ago.  You weren’t a flashy person, he argued, and neither was he, but he had to get you something, and you agreed, thinking it was perfect.  One week ago, your dad flew in to Berkeley, and his parents and sister flew in from England, and you had surprised them with a wedding at the San Francisco City Hall.  You two hadn’t planned on it but, well, you hadn’t planned on getting together all those years ago, either.   Now, the little craftsman style house just a stone’s throw away from the university campus was home.  You had settled into Berkeley, becoming a professor and doing some post-doctoral research.  Zack was in and out of Japan, down in Reseda, all over Europe – like he always was.  But like always, you two had managed to make it work.  You had even traveled with him a few times, when you could take the time off.  Japan had been exhilarating, the three times you made the trip.  So had Germany, even though you made the decision on a whim.  Your trips to Canada were always fun, since it was always nice to be home, and sometimes you’d even go to Florida.  And every trip back to his hometown, in the Isle of Sheppey, was where you made your fondest memories, since he always took you on a boat ride along the coast. “I think that’s it, love,” Zack’s voice interrupted you from your thoughts.  You looked over at him and he had stacked the box next to all the other living room boxes.  It was probably the blankets.  “Do you need me to do anything else?” You chuckled to yourself.  Such a good husband already.  “Come here,” you said, beckoning him over with your hands.   “Why?  Did I do something wrong?” he asked. You snorted.  “No, Zack.  I just want to hug you.” A small smile crept on to his face as he made his way over to you.  He snaked his arms around your waist while yours went around his neck, and in one swift movement he tugged you off the ground.  You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively.  You had definitely been in this position more than a few times.  “You good?” he asked.  You nodded your head.  “You sure I didn’t do anything wrong?” You snorted again.  “No way.  So far you’ve been the perfect husband.” “Really?” he was shocked at your statement. “Shush.  You know you are.” “So I guess now would be a good time to tell you I have to fly out to Chicago next week, but only for two days,” he informed you. You shrugged your shoulders.  “I knew what I was getting in to when I married you.” “Talk about a perfect wife,” he rolled his eyes, leaning forward to kiss you.  When he pulled away, he looked you in the eye, setting you down on your feet.  Your arms were still wrapped around him.  “I still can’t believe I got to marry you,” he whispered, his fingertips grazing over your exposed skin near your hips.  “God, that night I met you in the bar was the best night of my life.” “Mine too,” you smiled. “You know, I wasn’t even supposed to go out that night.  Marty forced me to,” he revealed. You couldn’t help but smile.  “I wasn’t supposed to go out either.  I had a stack of essays to mark but Amy forced me to check out the bar with her.” “The world works in mysterious ways, doesn’t it,” he whispered. “It does,” you agreed.  “Cause it brought an academic and a wrestler together in perfect harmony.  You don’t hear that pairing everyday.” Zack smiled down at you, kissing you quickly.  “I was thinking we order some Indian food and pop open the Netflix,” he suggested.  “Let’s celebrate our first night in the new house.” “I can think of other ways we can celebrate,” you wiggled your eyebrows at him. It didn’t take much.  Zack’s smile turned into a wry grin.  “You don’t have to tell me twice,” he said, picking you up and swinging you over his shoulders, carrying you towards your bedroom.