Chapter Sixteen
For months, Sheryl had dreamed of this moment; she had fantasized over and over again, and always in her dreams she had this seat. She sat spellbound as each wrestler paraded down the aisle to the tune of a deafening fanfare. Her stomach leaped into somersaults as they stood nearby, yelling into a microphone until their voices were hoarse. She was so close to the ring she could hear each grunt. So close she could see the ripple of muscles and the spray of sweat after each fall. She watched, too inspired for words as large men crashed to the floor and heaved themselves up again, and she told herself nothing could be better than this.
Steven was not so impressed.
He had sat through an hour and ten minutes of men dressed in every colour under the rainbow. He had seen men fl
