A/N: Because lame stories from girls who pretend to love Edge suck, and this site is ridden with them. But, I don't think I like this one...
Living the Rated R lifestyle was tiring for Adam Copeland. It was hard pretending to be a psychopathic asshole.
Sometimes, he just wanted to kick back and relax with a nice girl.
"Come on, go out with me," Adam begged the new girl, Kaitlyn.
Kaitlyn leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. "Adam Copeland is asking me out on a date?"
"Something like that," Adam grinned.
She tapped her foot on the cement ground and denied his offer. "Nah, I don't think so. I've heard about you. You have a reputation, you know."
"Please, enlighten me. What exactly have you heard about my reputation?"
"You're a womanizer."
"You ruin people's careers and force them to retire out of emarrassment."
"You're a woman stealer."
"Do you already have a man that I'm not aware of, even though your status on your Myspace page clearly states 'single?'"
Kaitlyn gave Adam a quizzical look. "Either you are a creeper, or you know the relationship statuses of all your coworkers. I, however, choose to believe the latter."
Adam laughed. "That would be the proper one to believe. So, what do you say?"
"I don't know..."
"I promise that you won't regret it."
"So, we have a codeword for if he starts creeping on me, right?" Kaitlyn asked her best friends, Natalya and Maryse, as she got ready.
"Yes. You'll call me and ask me a question about Bret Hart," Natalya said, pulling some curlers out of Kaitlyn's hair.
"I can't bee-leeve zat you are ree-lee dating zee Edge tonight," Maryse said in her heavy French accent.
"Maury..." Natalya said, using Maryse's nickname in a patronizing tone. "Kait, trust me. As a fellow Canadian, I know that Adam is a good guy. He's not the player he used to be. He's older now, and he's not a jerk like everyone thinks."
"But his reputation!"
"It's just that! It's just a reputation. Ninety percent of reputations are false, anyways," Natalya said.
"And what about zee ozaa ten peer-cent?" Maryse asked.
"They all say that your boyfriend is gay for bedazzling his abs, and that is true," Kaitlyn muttered under her breath, earning a sharp jab in the side from Maryse's hairbrush.
"I don't get you," Kaitlyn said as she and Adam walked down the sidewalk with their arms linked.
"What do you mean?" he said as he used his free hand to adjust the winter skull cap on his head since the snow started to fall a bit heavier. "Trust me, there's not much to get."
"Oh, but there is," Kaitlyn contradicted. "On television, you're public enemy number one. But in person, you claim to be the world's sweetest man. What gives?"
"Nothing. What you see is what you get."
"So...I get a vintage rocker in his mid-thirties?"
"That's a fair deal," Kaitlyn said, trying to hide her smile.
Adam's smile wasn't hidden.
"So," Kaitlyn said after a long moment of silence, "where are we going?"
"It's a surprise."
"I hate surprises," Kaitlyn said darkly, looking down at the sidewalk.
"Okay, fine. I don't want you to get mad at me. Do you think you could see me shaking my groove thing?" Adam asked with an all too serious look on his face.
"Shaking your what thing?" Kaitlyn asked in shock.
"You heard me."
"Well, it just looks like I'll have to prove you wrong."
Kaitlyn stood in the corner of the club by herself. How did she agree to do this? Sure, she didn't know exactly where they were going, but still. She should have known better than to agree to go out on a date with Adam Copeland.
She furiously dialed Natalya, but got no answer. She screamed into a voicemail message, "BRET HART! BRET HART! WHY DID HE WEAR PINK! OH CHRIST NATTIE HE'S DANCING FOR FUCKS SAKE!"
Kaitlyn decided that she had to try again. She felt as if her eyes were burning from seeing the travesty to the art of dance that was Adam Copeland. She almost ran to the bathroom in her platform heels.
There were few girls in there. One of them was smoking in the corner, and another one sounded as if she was doing lines in the stall. The bass from the club was highly muffled, but still audible. It was much quieter in there than it was on the dance floor. Kaitlyn slinked up against the wall next to the hand driers and called Natalya once again, muttering as she dialed the numbers, "Pick up. Please, just pick up."
Kaitlyn sharply shut her phone as she heard the ringtone that she recognized as Natalya's coming from somewhere in the bathroom. "Naittie?"
Natalya exited the stall furthest from the left, stuffing a small bag into her purse.
"Nattie! Were you the girl doing lines?"
"No, I wasn't doing anything like that. Let's just say that Randy Orton decided to make a business call to my date tonight, and--"
"Date? What date?"
Natalya sighed and grabbed Kaitlyn's arm. "Come on..."
Kaitlyn was dragged back to the floor by Natalya. When she took a closer look at the dance floor, she saw MVP trying to teach Adam how to dance. And nearby, Maryse was grinding on John Morrison.
"Kaitlyn, welcome to your set-up."
"I. Hate. You," Kaitlyn stated, stuffing her phone into her clutch purse.
"Put your stuff over here. MVP got us a table."
The girls headed over to a table in the VIP section and set their bags and jackets on the chairs. Natalya almost had to pick Kaitlyn up and carry her to the dance floor.
"I see you've decided to join us," MVP said, seeing the girls.
"Well, if I had known that you jerks set this up, maybe I would have been a bit more cooperative. And Adam, what on earth are you doing?"
"Montel is trying to teach me the Soulja Boy dance!" Adam yelled over the music, cranking his arms to the side and hopping around on one foot, his sideways baseball cap almost falling off.
"No, eetz not like zat," Maryse said, leaving John and rushing up to the rest of the group. "Baby, show zem how it eez."
"Oh, no, I like Adam's version better," John said, laughing.
The heavy bass and synthesizers cut and a slow jam played over the speakers.
"Aw, this is so cute," Natalya said as MVP offered his hand to her.
"I'm gonna go and get a drink..." Kaitlyn said, trying to shy away from Adam.
"Oh, no you don't," Adam said, catching her by the waist and putting her arms on his shoulders. "Still think I'm a bad guy?"
"Bad dancer? Yes. Bad guy? No. But I must admit, you're much better at this than you are at being a gangster."
"I put up a front. It's my reputation, you know."