Back with a bang. Nothing much to say aside from this is dedicated all of you who read, review, favourite, follow. I appreciate and love you all - thank you.

WARNING: The usual

DISCLAIMER: The usual

Italics = flashbacks

All aboard the RoLex roller-coaster x

Lex's POV

I fucked up.

I really did. And I don't know if there is a way back from this. I didn't think it was my fault. Not at first. But the more I think about it... Maybe I am to blame. I should have stepped away from the situation. I should have gone to the bathroom, gone to check on Roman, gone back to the god damn hotel room.

Instead, I stayed. And now here we are. On vacation of all places and all I can think of is what happened just a few days ago. It's still so raw, so fresh in my memory. Surely he must feel the same? I mean, why else would he be acting like this? The distance, the inability to communicate, the fact that we've barely touched each other by accident in the last few days, let alone deliberately.

And it's all my fault.

Roman's arm is slung around my shoulders, hugging me into his body as I sip my drink. My pre-vacation drink to be exact. Seven blissful days lie ahead of us, seven days of sun, sea and sand. Seven days without cell phones, the outside world, WWE or anyone else. Just us.

I don't think we've ever had seven days to ourselves. Not consecutively at any rate. Days together are scraped together. We wrangle the life out of those 24 hours, not daring to rest for a minute for fear of wasting time. It's intense and I love it, but this? This will be a rare occasion to take our time, to appreciate lazy minutes and hours. To just be, rather than do, do, do. To escape into oblivion, rather than just the sanctity of our own four walls.

His hand squeezes my shoulder and I glance up at him. He smiles, bending his head to brush his lips over mine. Pulling back, he gives me another smile and then reaches forward for his own drink.

Forget the seven days that lie before us, I'm still getting over the last three on the road with him and the rest of the roster. Some may not count shifting between three cities in the last three days a vacation – in fact, even Shiv thinks I'm mad every time I get excited for a few days on the road. But I can't even begin to describe how amazing it is to spend time with Roman during the minimum downtime he gets. I like being there with him when he falls asleep at night and wakes in the morning. It's such a rare thing for us to have, that I savour every moment. And even if I only get him for a few hours between media gigs, workouts and shows, it's preferable to being at home and not being able to see him for those few hours a day.

Roman's cellphone begins to vibrate on the table. He reaches for it and I see 'Mom' flash across the screen.

"Sorry, baby girl, I won't be long..." He pecks my cheek as he pushes back his chair and answers the phone. "Hey, Mom, what's up?"

He's silent for a second and then: "Hang on, it's too noisy in here." He nods towards the hotel lobby and I wave him away.

I settle back in my chair and take another sip of my drink. Our bags are packed, by the door, all ready to go in less than eight hours time. I flip over my own cellphone and note the time. Weighing my drink in my hand, I take another long sip to empty it. Pulling the hotel keycard towards me, I go to stand.

"You bailing already?"

I turn to face the voice, meeting the smirk and blue eyes. Dolph Ziggler slides into Roman's vacated chair, casually draping his arm over the back of my chair.

"It's late, we've got an early start," I smile, clutching the phone and keycard tightly.

"Ah, yes, the vacation. Speaking of the big man, where's he got to? Kinda rude to leave a lady alone."

"He just went to take a call," I say, gesturing towards the hotel lobby. "In fact, I think I'll–"

"Hey, what's the rush? You don't wanna sit and talk to me, I'm offended, Lexi."

I frown, a wave of uneasiness washing over me as he uses the one name that only Roman calls me. Not even Shiv calls me Lexi. Not even my own family call me Lexi.

"You don't want to offend me, do you?" He gives me a wide-eyed stare, but there's something beneath the blue eyes that unsettles me further.

"Honestly, Dolph, I don't need a babysitter. I'm a big girl, I can look after myself. Why don't you go back to enjoying yourself and–"

"That's what the big man likes, huh? A bit of fire?"

"Excuse me?" I swallow hard at the insinuation. "Seriously, I'm going to get up and go now. Let's just forget this ever happened."

I go to stand, but he quickly moves his hand to mine and pulls me back into the chair.

"Lexi, c'mon... I didn't mean anything by it. Let's start over huh? You looked lonely, I just wanted to come and chat. I just felt it a shame to see a beautiful woman like you sat on her lonesome."

His hand is still on mine and even as I try to move away, his grip tightens.

"Let go," I tell him firmly. His forehead crinkles for a second before he raises his hands in surrender.

"You're a tetchy lil' thing, aren't you?" he grins. "I can see why Roman likes you."

"You're doing it again." My teeth are gritted, my whole body awash with tension.

"Doing what? I'm just speaking the truth, Lexi. Beautiful, strong woman like you." His eyes drop from my face and I shift uncomfortably as I feel them rove over my body. I suddenly regret the floaty summer dress that dips low on my chest and rides high on my thighs. I brush my hands over the hem, tugging it as low as possible.

"You're making me uncomfortable."

He leans closer and a wave of nausea washes over me as I smell the alcohol on his breath. "Let me fix that..."

His hand brushes over my thigh, his fingers gripping firm. I knock his hand away with mine, but he just settles back again a few seconds later, his time with a firmer grip. I pry his hand away.

"Dolph, seriously. You're going to regret this. I really think–"

"Think what, Lexi? C'mon, babe, lighten up... Just a bit of fun."

His hand creeps higher this time and I flinch as his fingers find flesh. I grip his hand tightly, prising it away, but he holds on fast.

"You're hurting me!" I glance up at him and then over his shoulder.

I freeze. Roman is stood in the entrance to the bar, phone in hand, midway between his ear and pocket. His face is contorted into an expression that makes him almost unrecognisable to me.

Suddenly, Dolph's strength is nothing compared to mine. I pull his hand away and stand up, my legs shaking. I can't look away from Roman, whose eyes bore deep into mine. Dolph is completely unaware, his hand brushing against my leg as I stumble over the chair to get some distance between us.

Roman stalks towards us, roughly jamming his phone into his pocket.

"Hey, what's going on?" His voice is cold, unflinching as his eyes finally leave me and settle on Dolph.

"Oh, hey big man," Dolph remains seated, sprawling back in the chair. "I was just keeping your girl company."

"Is that so?" Roman crosses his arms, his biceps flexing. "And in your head, keeping my girl company, means putting your dirty little hands on her?"

"Ro, c'mon... He's drunk. He..." I stumble to a halt as Roman's eyes flicker back to me. His expression is as cold as his voice.

He doesn't say anything to me, he just looks back at Dolph. "Answer me."

Dolph finally stands, pulling himself as tall as he can, yet failing to meet Roman by a couple of inches. "Relax, bro. I didn't mean anything by it. I was just being friendly."

"Funny kind of friendly," Roman growls. "You touch her again, in fact, you even speak to her again, I won't be anywhere near as forgiving."

"I was just keeping her company."

"Maybe she didn't want your company."

"And maybe she did."

I feel my eyes widen. "Ro, let's go. Just leave it, okay?"

But Roman's eyes are still on Dolph. "What did you say?"

"I said, maybe she did."

I push past the chairs, placing myself between the two men. "Ro, seriously. Let's go. Now."

"Go on, Ro," Dolph's voice is mocking behind me. "Do as your girl says."

I can feel the tension in Roman's chest as I press my hand against him, pushing him away from the situation.

"You're a cocky son of a bitch," Roman hisses above me. "You better watch your fucking step, Ziggler."

"Ro, leave it." I shove him back again, desperate to create some distance between us and Dolph, who starts to chuckle behind me.

"Yeah, yeah. Bring your little firecracker too. She can tell you to back off when the going gets rough."

Roman surges forward, brushing me aside. His fists are clenched, ready to rise and to strike. Dolph at least as the sense to back away himself, raising his hands in surrender. Roman hisses something I don't catch, but whatever he says does the trick. Dolph falls back into his chair, his face a picture perfect pout. Roman turns back to me, but he doesn't meet my eyes. As he brushes past, his hand catches my arm and he pulls me along with him, out of the bar and into the lobby.

His fingers dig in hard as we head for the elevator. Only when we're standing still and waiting for the doors to open, do I manage to wrench my arm free.

"Ro, what's gotten into you?"

He doesn't answer, just stares stoically ahead.

"Ro. Talk to me. He was being a jerk, a drunk jerk at that. He was stupid, of course he was, but I don't think he meant anything by it."

I watch his jaw flinch as the elevator arrives and we board. The climb to our floor is excruciatingly slow and silent. I open my mouth several times to speak and then think better of it. I wouldn't say that I've really seen this side of Roman before now. A glimpse here and there of frustration and anger. But not rage. Never rage. Even when we've had our own arguments, it's never escalated to this. To jaw-clenching silence. To clenched fists.

Arguments between the two of us are usually over petty things. Things that don't matter. There's a half hour cooling off period and then the silence and tension is broken and we're back to how we were before, giggling at our own stupidity, trying to work out what we were arguing over in the first place. But this? This feels different. There's a third party involved and I'm stuck in the middle.

The door pings open and he stalks down the corridor, leaving me to quicken my pace to keep up. At the hotel door, I pass him the keycard and he jerks it from my grasp.

"Ro," I try again as the door clicks shut behind me. "Talk to me."

"What did he mean by 'maybe she did'?"

His words hit me like a ton of bricks. "You're joking, right?"

"I saw, Lex." His voice is clipped, still cold.

"Saw what? Me push him away?"

"Were you?"

"Yes!"

He's silent.

"You... You don't believe me?" My voice is quiet, filled with doubt, regret, worry.

"All I know is what I saw. I walk back into the bar and see his hand on your thigh, with your hand on top of it. He's all up in your space and you looked..." He trails off.

"You going to finish that sentence?" I snap. "Are you at all interested in my side of the story? I'm your fucking girlfriend. Do you really think I would do anything, anything at all, to encourage what he did? Think about it."

His silence is deafening.

"We spend a fair amount of time apart, Ro. And have I ever accused you of anything quite like this? I'm not stupid. I know what guys like you get offered. I'm not naïve. But I have the good grace to not think the worst of you. In fact, the thought has never crossed my mind." I pause, inhaling deeply, desperately trying to calm down. "I trust you. But do you trust me? Because the second some guy who's not been Reigns-approved speaks to me, you're all fucking over it. And to top it off, you throw accusations at me as well."

"You defended him."

"To stop you doing something you'd regret! He was drunk, he was being a jerk, I told him to back off and he didn't. So I told him again and pushed him away. I was handling it. I've handled it before–"

"Before?" His head snaps up. "What happened before?"

"I didn't mean–"

"Who else are you defending?"

"Drunk guys in bars, Ro. Drunk guys who think they're their God's fucking gift and decide to hit on anything with two fucking legs. I'm just saying, that I can deal with it."

"Who hit on you?"

"This is what you're focusing on? Really? Anonymous drunk guys. What's wrong with you?"

"Forgive me for wanting to be a protective boyfriend."

"I don't need protecting," I grit out, sick of sounding like a broken record.

"So you keep saying. Seems to me like you do."

"Well, you did a fine job of that, pissing like a fucking dog."

"Ziggler needs to know his place."

"Y'know, I really don't want to be involved in your locker-room battles." I kick off my shoes and push past him, heading towards the bathroom. "I'll be the fucking grown-up here. You take a moment to mull this over in that thick head of yours."

I slam the door behind me and then rest against it, fighting back the tears.

I know exactly what goes on when I'm not here. I know about the girls that hang out by the parking lot exit and clamour to get the attention of the guys as they leave. I know about the girls who hunt them out at hotel bars, at dive bars, at restaurants. I know how they casually just slip their numbers into hands, willing or otherwise, with a promise of a good night. I know how they tell them to forget their girlfriends, their wives, their families. I know that in the eyes of many, I'm a pain in the back side. I am a thorn that needs to be plucked and disposed of, just so they can get their 15 minutes of fame.

There's some that will crack. There are some that will accept it as part of the job, take them up on the offer even. It can be a lonely life and sometimes all you want and crave is a warm body to keep you company for a few hours.

But I trust that Roman isn't like that. If he was once, then that's not my place to judge. One could say that our initial relationship wasn't dissimilar to a casual hook up. I'm not innocent either. I'm not about to act all fucking pious over anyone's decision to have a one-night stand with a groupie or otherwise. If no-ones getting hurt, participants or by-standers, then what's the problem?

I trust Roman. I trust him with my life. I trust that he doesn't hurt me. I trust that he does love me and doesn't want anyone other than me. And in return, he does the same. Or so I thought. Maybe not.

It never crossed my mind that he could have the same worries that flicker through the back of my mind. That he wonders what happens when I go to a conference or when I'm on a night out without him. But the fact that he thinks that, unnerves me, angers me. I feel disgusted that he would even dare to think that. Because I know he would be the same if I ever accused him.

His words buzz around my head and I'm incredulous that they even came from his mouth. I thought we were stronger than this. I thought that this is the sort of thing that would get ironed out in the early stages, rather than rearing its head two years down the line. It makes me wonder what else is going on. Is there something that I'm not aware of? Is there a hidden tension creeping into our relationship that I can't put my finger on? Have I pushed him away recently? Have I said something to put doubt into his head?

I sink to the floor and rock my head forward and back. I listen for sounds beyond the door. But it's silent. I can almost see him stood in the same position. If I opened the door right now, I wonder what would happen. But there's no way I'm making the first move. This is his fuck up to fix. I can't do anything more to convince him. And if he wants to believe what he sees rather than what he hears, then so be it. That's his choice. That's his idiotic choice.

I hear the bed creak and my heart sinks. Is he seriously just going to let this fester until tomorrow? I hate going to bed on the back of an argument, especially one like this. I appreciate the cooling off period, but this?

I get to my feet and place my hand on the doorknob and then stop.

Anger flares inside of me again. No. Two can play this game. I can give as good as I get. I'm a stubborn bitch. And if he wants to play chicken with this, then fine. I'm a worthy opponent.

I strip and get in the shower, taking my time. He can stew. I can stew. In fact, I can stew longer than him. I'll take my sweet fucking time, deliberating over what to do next. He can fucking beg for my forgiveness. He can get down on his knees and tell me over and over again how sorry he is. And I'll let him do it. I'll draw it out for as long as possible. He wants to make me feel like this? Then I'll do the same to him.

An eye for an eye.

Roman is buried under the covers when I finally emerge from the bathroom. I pad across the room and dump my clothes by our cases. He doesn't stir, but his breathing gives him away.

He isn't asleep. And this is further confirmed when I climb into bed next to him and accidentally brush my foot against his leg. I feel him flinch at the touch and my resolve threatens to break. But I steel myself and roll away from him.

I close my eyes and beg for sleep. But minutes tick past and I'm still wide awake, my mind humming restlessly as I listen to his breathing. Anger still pumps through my veins and I'll be damned if I'm going to crack now. But guilt occasionally washes over me and it takes everything I have not to reach out to him.

I drift in and out, stirring awake with a sudden jolt as I feel him shift beside me.

"Lex?" His voice has lost the coolness, the bitterness. It's a voice that I recognise at last, but I still don't let myself believe it.

"Lex?" I feel him roll over, his hand brushing over my arm. "You awake?"

I murmur in response.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to accuse you. You aren't to blame in any of this. I swear to God, I'm sorry. Lex?"

I don't trust myself to answer. If he thinks this is good enough...

"I shouldn't have blown up at you like that. I shouldn't have said what I said. I was angry at Ziggler. He's such..." he trails off. "He doesn't matter, okay? He was drunk, I know. And I know that I was wrong to not trust you. I... I just saw red when I saw him touching you. And then he said what he said and it just got to me. It shouldn't have, but it did and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Lex."

"Okay," is all I can say. The relief that washes over me is still marred with his original comments. The fact that he could say it, no matter how sorry he is now, still means that he thought it. I don't care how much he regrets them, they still made their way into his mind at some point. He felt that way at some point tonight and I don't understand why or how he can think that about me.

That's what hurts the most.

"I need you to know how sorry I am." His hand is still on my arm, his fingers feather light against my skin.

"I know."

I move my arm away from his touch. I can feel him deflate next to me.

"I'm sorry," he says again, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

"I know."

He's quiet and then: "I don't know what else to say."

"Then don't say anything," I shoot back, rolling onto my side and facing away from him. Because even in the dark shadows of the room, I know that if I even cast him a sideways look, I won't be able to stay resolute for long.

"Baby girl..." His hand rubs my back and I almost melt at his touch. "Please... Don't stay mad at me. I'm sorry, you have to believe me."

"I believe you."

"You accept my apology?"

"I do. I'm just tired, Ro. We gotta get up in four hours and I'd like some sleep before then."

I feel him move closer, his lips brushing over the back of my head. "I'm sorry."

That was the last time he touched me. We headed to the airport the following morning, conversation in the cab stilted and awkward. On the plane, I stared at the mini TV screen in front of me whilst he put on headphones and closed his eyes. It was the longest five hours of my life.

And now we're here, stuck in a private villa with only each other to speak to. Not that we're doing much of that. It's polite conversation all the way and lounging in the sun with our heads in books or headphones on. Dinner is the only time we're forced to speak and the conversation is back-breaking.

His apology only went so far. And I'm fighting an internal battle between head and heart over the entire affair. His stinging words are just too strong to let go of. His apology was too late. His silence on the subject ever since has spoken loudly and clearly. I shouldn't have done what I did. The thing that I've always sworn I'd never do: accept an apology without really accepting it. It's what I did. I told him I was fine. I told him that I was okay, when really I was still crumbling and I haven't been able to re-build myself since.

I should have told him that. I should have rolled over and looked at him and told him how he made me feel. I should have explained to him why I was hurting.

But instead, I was a first class bitch about the entire thing and accepted his apology to... To shut him up, I suppose. Because I didn't want to crack. Because I was being selfish with my own emotions. I know I'm to blame for why this vacation is a total disaster. I know I'm the one who should be apologising to him for all of this. But I just can't bring myself to do that.

He's always said he loves my independence, my righteousness. And here I am, giving it to him with all guns blazing. I'm pretty sure he didn't quite mean this. There's a difference between speaking your mind or standing up for yourself and being a stubborn cow who won't admit when she's wrong. And I know that. We all know that. But I'm just too stubborn to stop being stubborn.

I take a deep, shaky breath and gaze out at the sunset. I've fucked this up and I don't know if there's a way back.