I swore to myself I would never cheat on him again. I promised that I would never let my eye wonder onto the next pretty boy that came across my view, and I promised I would never hurt him. All of my girlfriends would roll their eyes when I told them this, and they had a reason to: he never knew I cheated on him.

And it wasn't just cheating on him, it was continually cheating. I managed to have a side relationship with three guys in the span of ten months, and he never knew. My excuse was I was going out with the girls, which was weird because I was "going out with the girls" almost four times a week. Twice a week for sure, four times a week when I was really stressed. The only time I was ever scared of him finding out was when he brought up that I see my friends too much.

He said he was scared that I was drinking too much.

It's weird, because I was never worried he would find out. He isn't stupid, and he definitely is one of the smarter people I've known, but my cheating is just something he never really picked up on. At all. At times, it felt like I was doing it just so I could get caught, just so I could see him be disappointed in me, and angry. I wanted to see that hurt expression on his face, I wanted him to yell...but he was just too in love with me to believe I would do such a thing to him.

Sitting on the airplane with my head leaning against his shoulder, I twirled one of his curls around my finger, giggling in his ear. "Carlito," I whispered, kissing his cheek. I didn't say anything after, I just liked it when he would turn his attention to me and look down. Often, he'd place a kiss on top of my head and then hold my hand, running his thumb over my knuckles. His hands were always so soft, so tanned, but it was always the left hand I had to hold. He liked his right hand to be free so he could still shake hands with people and do weird handshakes with the boys in the locker room.

"Beautiful," he whispered back, "this is going to be a long flight." As usual, our conversation ended after that and we leaned against the arm rest that seperated us so we could be closer together, our arms linked through each other, still holding hands, but leaning on each other for support. Our co-workers started to aboard the plane, some ignoring the two of us as we giggled, other acknowledging our existance with one of those handshakes to Carlito and a wave to me. Some of the ECW guys were on this flight, which could only mean this flight would be more entertaining than others...something about those guys made everything seem more fun.

There was still an empty seat left in the row Carlito and I were sitting in, the one at the very end, the dreaded aisle seat no one ever wants. It stayed empty for the longest time, even delayed the flight because of a problem with his carry on luggage. Finally, he boarded the plane and all us wrestlers clapped because we could finally leave Detroit.

The empty seat was filled when Jeff Hardy sat down in it with a huff. "Took long enough," Carlito mumbled, letting go of my hand so he could read his book.

"Sorry," Jeff apologized with a mumble, his eyes focused on the ground. I felt bad for the younger Hardy, being treated like he was by Carlito, not to mention the sarcastic clapping he was greeted with when he finally boarded the plane. The three people behind us, Candice, Torrie and Victoria, were snickering about something, until Candice said a little too loudly, "they must've found drugs."

The entire plane went silent as her echo filled the quietness, not realizing she was the only one laughing; even Torrie and Victoria were staring at her. She finally quieted down, and I noticed Jeff had his head leaning against the seat in front of him with his purple hair covering his face. "Hey," I whispered, leaning over my boyfriend. "Don't worry about it. She's a bitch anyways." I saw him smile through his mask of hair, his lips pursed together tightly, which I guess was his way of saying thank you.

He has only been back for a few weeks, and all ready I can tell what the kind of guy he is. We've talked maybe twice: once to introduce ourselves, the other to ask what was the food in catering. Each time he smiled, then kept to himself, off in his own world.

"Thanks," Jeff whispered, placing his hand on top of mine. Carlito's eyes looked over his book, instantly staring at mine and Jeff's hands together. He cleared his throat, loudly, just as the stewerdess was explaining how to use the lifejackets if we needed them. It was like that scene out of Almost Famous when Penny is mouthing along to the instructions; I could see Trish, Lita and Mickie doing that then giggling at something else.

It wasn't long before we were off the ground and up in the air, the clouds passing us by as we flew threw them. It was dark out, my watch read 12:53AM, and most of the wrestlers were asleep on the plane, cuddled with with the thin white blanket we are often given and a pillow. Some had their headphones on, some didn't, but the three girls I needed to talk to were still awake, as was my current vice.

"Baby," I whispered to Carlito, nudging him with my elbow. "Baby, I'm going to go talk to the girls for a bit." He gave me a kiss and tucked his knees up so I could walk by him, keeping his eyes closed; Jeff was curled into a ball in his seat so I didn't have to ask him to move his legs.

As I made my way through the dark aisle, I felt a hand grab my bare leg, giving it a quick squeeze. I turned around and gave a smirk when I saw who it was. "You little Punk," I said to him as he pulled me into his lap.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and held me close to him with what little room we had and began kissing my neck. "Words can't describe how happy I am that you're on this flight with me," he whispered, using his fingers to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I could feel my face redend with blush and he kissed my chin, the metal from his lip ring pressing against my skin. Turning my head, I pressed my lips against his, and we kissed, not caring who saw us. I didn't care that my boyfriend was only a few rows behind us and could possibly see us; I wanted him to see us. I wanted him to see how unfaithful I have been to him for the past year and a half, I wanted him to see how much better he could do than have me. Out of all the women he could have, he wanted me and I couldn't even share the same feeling back.

Pulling my lips away, I rested my forehead against his, "you're too cute," I mumbled, letting my fingers run through his hair. He leaned up and gave me another kiss before letting me go so I could see the girls.

They were sitting near the back of the plane as usual, that way they can see everybody and gossip about them. "So, how many boyfriends are on this flight?" Trish asked me, taking out the ear phone she was sharing with Lita.

"Just one," I answered, squatting down so I could talk to them.

"I can't believe he hasn't found out yet. You were just making out with Punk and he's like, five rows ahead of you," Mickie pointed out, pausing her Gameboy. "Seriously, way to pick them, Maria. Carlito isn't the brightest if he doesn't know about any of your guys." She had her feet pressed against the seat in front of her with her Gameboy on her lap.

Lita, who was unlucky and got the aisle seat, petted my head. "Maria, Maria, Maria," she said with a laugh. "You're going to get caught one day. Nothing stays secret forever."

"I want him to know," I told her. "I can't break up with him, and he won't break up with me because he loves me too much. This is the only way to do it; cheat right in front of him."

"And he hasn't said anything?" Trish questioned.

"He thinks I drink too much." The four of us laughed quietly so we wouldn't wake up anybody that was sleeping. "But hey, I'm going to get back to my seat..."

"Better be yours and not Punk's," Mickie warned me, continuing her game. I rolled my eyes as I made my way back over to Carlito and Jeff, passing Punk on my way. His hand grabbed my leg again, and for a quick second I thought about sitting with him in the empty seat next to him. I could feel his fingers running up and down my thigh, his nails just grazing the surface of my skin.

"Come on, Maria," he whispered, holding my hand in his. "He'll never know."

Leaning down, I pressed a kiss on his lips, letting my lips linger longer than they should've. It was his lip ring that drove me insane, espically when he would kiss my neck or my collarbone. The cold metal against my flesh felt amazing, and I often wondered why I wasn't with him, even though I was in a sense.

Reality hit me hard as a light from the celing of the airplane flickered on a few rows down from where I was. It was Jeff, waking up from his ball and searching through his carry on for something important, I figured. I watched from where I was, now comfortably in Punk's lap with his head resting against my chest, and from there I watched Jeff bring out a sketch book and an old pencil, one that was almost all the way down to the eraser. He began sketching something that was ahead of him, but being so far back I couldn't tell what it was.

I watched him draw until the sky beside us turned pink, then purple, then slowly into a light blue. It was now day, and our overnight flight from Detroit to Japan was almost over. Whispering to Punk that I'll meet him after a show in two days, I walked back to my seat, slithering my way back to the window and placing my head on top of Carlito's shoulder. He stirred, his eyes fluttering to an open as he gazed down at me while I was pretending I was asleep.

"Maria?" he whispered, his hands moving across my stomach. "You awake?"

I pretended to open my eyes slowly, trying my best to play along with my continuing game. "Yeah babe," I answered, looking up at him, attempting to look sleepy. I faked a yawn as my arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him close for a hug.

And that's when I realized it.

I was desperate. I was desperate for someone to love me for who I am, that's why I kept cheating on my boyfriend. My loving boyfriend. I was hurting him without his realizing it, and every other guy I had ever slept with while I was seeing Carlito wouldn't even give me a second look had they not heard of my game.

A game. That was all this was.

In the hotel room that night, I laid underneth the blankets with my head resting against his chest.

His fingers were running through my hair absentmindly while his other hand was changing the channel on the TV; nothing was in english. We watched the sports channel, trying to figure out what they were saying, but it wasn't long until he turned off the system and shifted down so his head was on top of the pillows and we cuddled closer together.

He wasn't saying anything, so I took it upon myself to bring my lips to his and whisper, "I love you."

My stomach turned as the lie escaped from my lips, instantly making me feel nauseous. I let my eyes close as I felt his hands move the hair off of my neck and to the side so he could press his lips where he had wanted. The stubble on his chin brushed past my neck, and I instantly thought of being with Punk instead.

I saw him grin when I looked at him, still feeling his lips on my neck. Taking in a breath, he let it out with a whisper in my ear, "you're beautiful when you lie."