A/N: Thanks for supporting this story with your reviews. They're always appreciated!

Our night at the pizza restaurant was a turning point.

We became inseparable, and wherever Chris went, I was sure to follow. It all happened so fast that I didn't fully have the opportunity to register it all, but I was so pleased to settle into his life. Spending time with him was fun, even magical on occasion, and I internally kicked myself about a dozen times for not getting to know him sooner. If only I had been strong enough to send the naysayers packing and sit down to talk with him. Chris had been a mainstay in the WWE for over a decade, and it had taken me that whole time, and then some, simply to approach him and say hello.

I was ashamed, but Chris never wanted me to feel badly about myself. He told me not to worry or wallow in self-pity, because even in his unique set of circumstances, he found it in his heart to forgive those who had let him down. I, on the other hand, was a more difficult case. We had known each other for a few weeks at the time, and I secretly met up with him before a Raw taping, because my dad would have blown a gasket if he found out we were spending time together in casual settings. I made it out of my hotel room as discreetly as possible and strode briskly to Chris's car in the hotel parking lot.

Whenever I saw him, I would kiss his cheek as a greeting, and that time was no different. He used to squirm in his seat when I came that close to his face, and he had explained to me that he didn't like anyone touching his face, not even for a brief second or two. It made him uncomfortable, but I didn't care about his scars or uneven skin tone, or the roughness beneath my lips whenever they touched his cheek. I loved who he was, and if I wanted to kiss my friend, I was going to, so I pressed my lips to his cheek and closed the car door. We drove around for a while, talking and laughing, until we finally ended up at a strip mall right off the main highway.

"Why are we stopping here? Are you buying me a gift?" I asked. Of course, I was only teasing him. I had told him to drive wherever he wanted so we could hang out together, and since he had chosen that particular cluster of stores, I thought he wanted to shop for himself and get a woman's input on his fashion choices.

"I'd love to buy you a gift," he replied, glancing over at me and displaying all the seriousness in the world. He turned the car off and tugged his keys free from the ignition, slipping his right index finger through the ring of his keychain. "I'm coming around to open your door, so don't you dare get out of the car before I get over there."

"Chris," I sighed, "I don't need to be waited on. I can open my own door, but thank you for being sweet."

"Well, I was raised to always open and close a lady's door, and it's not cool that you keep going against my wishes," he said, in that light tone that let me know he was only kidding. Except, he sort of wasn't. "You're so hardheaded. Do you always have to go against me?"

"Mm..." I pretended to mull his words over, turning my eyes heavenward and tapping my chin. He chuckled and shoved his door open, getting out of the car. Before he closed the door completely, he leaned back in to address me.

"Stay put, Steph."

"Okay, okay," I conceded.

If it was important to him to open my door, then I would give him that chance. He came around and got my door, and we walked away from his rental vehicle arm-in-arm, discussing everything under the sun, except for our jobs. WWE's backstage area was so stressful that we developed a rule, only days after becoming friends, that we wouldn't discuss work while we were away from it. Our free time was spent talking only about our personal lives and hobbies, and I liked it that way.

I got to know Chris better in those first few weeks than I had in the entire 14 years we had dawdled under the same roof of the same workplace. I found myself wanting only to be a part of his world, a staple in his life, and I like to think that was around the time frame Chris realized he wanted the same things with me. We were friends, but we were growing closer all the time, and as we grew together, I developed a fiercely protective nature. I refused to let anyone hurt Chris, be it physical, emotional, or otherwise. In short, I became his protector.

We strolled into a clothing store at the far right end of the strip mall and had been inside for no more than a full minute before the stares began. My assumption had been that children were the only beings tactless enough to stare so rudely at another person, but I was proven wrong on that day, and even on days prior. My heart was instantly broken for Chris, for his having to endure the odd looks for so many years, but he didn't miss a beat, walking up to a clothing rack and plucking a shirt off. He made a joke about the unflattering color of the fabric, but I couldn't find it within myself to smile with him, which, of course, he picked up on.

The blood coursed so violently through my veins that I could hear my own heartbeat pulsating in both ears. It played like a drum, as did my heart in my chest, and my hands began balling into fists. The heat spreading across my chest confirmed that my skin had morphed to a sickly shade of red, as it always did whenever I became angry. I caught sight of a young woman a little ways down, her hand frozen on the dress she had been looking at, while her eyes widened as she viewed Chris's facial scarring. My temper got in the way on more occasions than I care to admit, even now, and this was one of those moments.

"What the hell are you looking at?" I sneered, my words folding at the end as a low growl emptied from my throat. "Don't you know it's rude to stare?"

The woman's cheeks immediately reddened, almost as if I'd hauled off and given her a couple of my signature slaps, knocking the color right into them. I did slap her around a bit, even if only in the confines of my own mind. She bashfully let go of the dress and went around the corner, out of sight, and something in my words brought fear into the hearts of the other customers as well, because they all returned to what they had been doing before I walked in the door with Chris. I was huffing and my eyes grew blurry the more distressed I became. Soon enough, I was walking, and I didn't know how.

Eventually, I saw past my blurred vision and noticed Chris's hand curled around my wrist as he led me further into the store and away from the offenders. He pulled me all the way to the dressing rooms in the back of the store and brought me inside one, closing the door behind us, so we were trapped in the tiny space together. I say 'trapped' only because I was afraid of what he might say, and at that moment, I did feel stuck, with no way out. He didn't look angry, but he didn't look happy either, so I wasn't sure what to expect. I stared at my shoes because I was too intimidated to look him in the eye any longer.

"You can't act like that, Stephanie," he said. I raised my head, shocked and ready to unload and give him all the reasons why my actions were perfectly justified, but he held a hand up to stop me. "I don't want to hear any excuses or reasons for what you did, but I'm telling you that you can't do that. If you stopped and berated everyone who stared at me, we'd never get anything done. You let it go and move on. Focus on what we're doing and not what other people are doing."

"But they have no right to look at you that way," I argued. "You have just as much right to be in this store as they do!"

"Shh," Chris held his hand up again, frowning at me. "Stop this. I appreciate what you were trying to do, but it's embarrassing and all it does is attract even more attention to us. I don't want you to do that again."

"Fine," I said, crossing my arms as my face began burning. Here I was, thinking I was being a great friend, when all Chris wanted was for me to shut my trap. I'd never been so humiliated in my life, and I think the look on my face said it all, because he uncrossed my arms and grabbed onto my right hand, giving it a kind and encouraging squeeze.

"I know you were only trying to help, and that means a lot, but if you want to be a good friend to me, then you have to let things like that roll off your back."

"I wanted to protect you," I told him. "If I'm your friend, I should at least look out for you."

"I'd say I've done a good enough job of that by myself for the past several years of my life," he told me.

He was making perfect sense, but all I wanted was to argue. Maybe I was upset over what the rude customer had done, or maybe I was angry with Chris for not backing my defense of him, but I slithered past his solid form and left the dressing room in a huff, recrossing my arms. I stomped straight down the center aisle, intending to return to the car and wait for him, but Chris caught me from behind. His hands came down firmly on my hips and he guided me to a section of the store that carried purses, wallets, and such. Even when I wanted to be furious with him, I couldn't find it in me.

"I do appreciate you, Steph, and I would hate for you to think otherwise," he told me. "It means a lot that you're willing to take up for me when people are staring or being rude, but this has been my life for years. I wasn't born with this face, so, yeah, I remember how nice things used to be when I looked normal, but I've been this way for a long time, and staring doesn't bother me so much anymore. I've gotten used to it and pretty much learned how to block it out of my mind."

"It's not right," I said, steady in my resolve. Chris sighed loudly, but I was unwavering. "You deserve better."

"You may be right, but this is life, and you don't always get what you deserve during your time on this earth," he said. His words were accurate, but it was a cruel truth to face. Still, if he had found a way to be fine with people's reactions, then I could as well...except, it really wasn't that easy for me. "Listen, I saw a frozen yogurt place a little ways down from here. Why don't we go grab something and talk?"

"It's too early for dessert," I said. He chuckled, and a smile inadvertently appeared on my face at the welcomed sound.

"You could always get vanilla frozen yogurt and some fruit. That's a healthy snack."

"I guess that would be fine."

He led me out of the store, holding the door for me as we stepped back outside, into the cool mid-morning air. It wasn't until we walked into the frozen yogurt shop and stood in line that Chris's words made sense to me. As I spied people turning in their chairs to look at him and whisper to their friends, I realized he was right. I could spend forever battling against the ignorance we came across or I could choose not to lower myself to their levels. I latched onto his wrist and gave it a squeeze, and though I couldn't tell for sure, I would have sworn Chris winked at me.

When showtime came, we separated. That was the way it went, whether we wanted it to or not. It was understood that should my father, or any of his cronies, stumble upon me and Chris hanging out together, word would get back to my dad, and he would try to make Chris's life a living hell. 'Try' was the operative word, because there was no way I would allow anyone to hurt Chris, especially not now that I had gotten to know him. He was coming around to be one of the best, most loyal, most insightful friends I had ever made, and I only ever wanted to be wherever he was.

He would pass me in the hall, and I'd pretend to be working, but when nobody was paying attention, we would exchange smiles and winks, mouthing promises to see each other soon. We went on like that for a long time, and days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months. I learned something new about him every day, and I liked to think that he felt the same about me. We shared our deepest secrets, went out on entertaining adventures, and generally spent all of our time on the road together. My dad found it odd that I no longer wanted to travel with him on the jet or in limousines, but what he didn't know was that I had become Chris's traveling buddy.

I explained my absence away by telling my dad that I wanted to be alone and that I preferred traveling solo. He, in turn, lectured me about how dangerous life on the road could be for a woman, but I wasn't hearing it. I wanted to be with Chris, and so I was. After a Raw taping one night, I sneaked out of the arena to Chris's rental car in the parking lot, and we went to dinner together, as we always did after the shows. Since there was a long ride ahead of us to get to the next town, where he was set to make an appearance on Smackdown, we decided to leave that night, arrive at our destination early in the morning, and catch a long nap before it was time to be at the show.

"Did you use the restroom?" Chris asked me after dinner, in that playful way he always did before we set out on covering major ground. He couldn't help himself. He gave me that sly, sideways glance he was beginning to become so famous for. "Because I'm not stopping at rest areas every two seconds so you can pee. Speak now or forever hold your wee."

"Oh God," I groaned, rolling my eyes at his rhyming joke. He thought my reaction made it the funniest thing in the universe, and soon enough, I found myself laughing along with him. I eventually gathered myself and pointed to a fast food joint across the way. "Can we stop over there so I can get a drink? I have to have something to keep me energized along the way, like coffee. That way, if you get tired, you can pull over and we can switch places. Sound like a plan?"

"Sure, it does," Chris said. He began pulling out of the parking lot we were in, all so we could get to the small restaurant where I could buy a coffee, and I directed him to the drive-thru, so we wouldn't have to bother with getting out of the vehicle. I leaned over him and ordered when we got to the microphone, and while we waited in line, we talked candidly. "At the risk of sounding like a goober, I've really enjoyed getting to know you, Steph. You're like a hidden gem, and I wish we could have found our way to each other sooner."

There was an extended silence, and I stared out of my window, swallowing thickly. "I was really weak back then, and I'm not proud of myself."

"That's okay."

"It's not okay," I snapped. He seemed surprised to hear such passion and conviction in my voice, but in my mind, I owed it to him. I had been given many chances to step up, but I hadn't, and he had suffered for years on end because of it. "People would make jokes about you, and I'd laugh to fit in. I wanted them to like me, so even if they said something bad about you, I went along with it. I knew it was wrong. I would feel sick every single time I saw or heard of someone mistreating you, but I went along with it, and that makes me weak. I'm a weak-minded person, and you shouldn't even want to talk to me at all. I'm lucky that you even want my friendship."

"We've all been there before," Chris said. I couldn't tell whether he was forgiving beyond measure, or if he only wanted to make me feel better, but I appreciated his efforts either way. "I think everyone suffers from a sense of wanting to belong, and I tend to be forgiving of that because, before my face was like this, I probably did the same thing once in a while. It happens, and I'm not going to hold it against you."

"I still want you to know how sorry I am. I would never let anybody hurt you again," I said. I felt a fire burning in me and I knew, then and there, that I would fight for him. I wanted to be his protector, and even felt it my duty, in some ways. "I care about you a lot, Chris."

"I know you do, and I care about you, too," he said.

He reached over to pat my hand, but I didn't want him patting my hand. My grandmother patted my hand. I wanted him to lean over and hug me, maybe even give me a kiss, and just as the car in front of us steered away and Chris pulled parallel to the drive-thru window, I leaned over and kissed his temple, dragging my lips over his bumpy skin and stopping at his cheek, where I gave him a second kiss. The car screeched to a stop as his foot slammed onto the brake pedal, and he looked bewildered, like he had been caught with his back turned.

I smiled, but in a frazzled attempt to change the subject, he asked me if I had money to pay for my drink. Thinking better of it, he waved me off, raising far enough up in his seat to tug his wallet out of his back pocket. He paid for the drink and handed it off to me, pulling away from the drive-thru and back into traffic. He said nothing, and I wasn't sure if I had been out of line, so I said nothing either, for fear of being yelled at. I should have known better, though, because Chris wasn't one to raise his voice at me, or anyone else. It wasn't his style.

I brought my cup to my lips and tried to take a sip, but I couldn't find it in me to even do that, so I lowered the cup back onto my lap and stared out the window. It's amazing the number of thoughts that can shoot through your mind in such a short amount of time. Here I was, only a couple of months into my friendship with Chris, risking sabotage of everything we had worked for, without even meaning to. The radio volume was low, so all I could really hear was the rush of our tires against the paved road as we took the quickest route to the main highway.

"I'm sorry for touching your face," I apologized, after I finally worked up the nerve to. That was the only infraction I could trace Chris's indifference to. He hated it when I kissed his cheek once, let alone twice, so I knew he didn't enjoy what I had done, but the closeness wasn't for him. It was for me. I wanted to be close to him. "You like to have your space, and I should respect that."

He said nothing, and I found it odd when he looped back around and starting heading into town again, since we were supposed to be leaving. I chalked it up to his forgetfulness and assumed he needed to grab something from the hotel he had just checked out of. When he asked me which hotel my family was staying at, it still didn't raise any suspicions, because I was so happy to have him talking to me again that I didn't think any further than that. Nothing clicked into place until he pulled up at the front of the hotel and braked.

"What are we doing?" I asked, growing a tad apprehensive. "This is a great way for me to get caught with you. Let's go before my dad sees us."

"I think it's best if I travel on my own this week."

"But I don't understand," I told him, deep lines forming in my brow. "We've traveled together for all this time. Why would you want to stop now? Is this because I made you uncomfortable?"

"I have issues within myself that I need to work on, okay?" Chris said. He rubbed at his forehead and shuddered when he felt the uneven texture of his skin, dropping his hand back into his lap. I tried to reach out and touch his hair, but he pushed my hand away, and all I can recall after that was the way it felt for my heart to drop so heavily into my stomach, like cast iron. My eyes burned with unseen tears and my breathing quickened.

"If you're okay with hurting me right now, then you go right ahead."

"I'm not, but I don't want to be this close to anybody, and I've said that a million times. You continue to do this same stuff and I...whatever, I'm not going to spend hours in this car being made uncomfortable by you. Just ride to the next town with your dad and we'll talk later."

"Or we won't talk at all," I spat out. "Ever again."

Of course, I didn't mean a single word of that, and it was the last thing I wanted, but I was hurt. I felt, in that moment, like he was rejecting me and I wanted him to feel my pain, to understand fully what he was putting me through by turning me away without warning. In hindsight, I understand that it was his nature to turn his back on those closest to him, because it was a self-preservation tactic and a way for him to shield himself from harm, but I'll never forget the heaviness in my stomach as I pushed open that car door and grabbed my bag from the floor. I made it a point to move slowly, thinking if I gave him enough time to change his mind, he might urge me back into the car, and we could be friends again, happily ever after.

I shut the door and hung my bag strap over my shoulder, still clutching the coffee in my free hand as I walked to the hotel doors. I glanced back for a final time, thinking I would be able to detect the apologetic look in his eyes even from several feet away, but all I saw were the rear lights of his vehicle as he pulled away from me, driving right out of my life. I put my head down and entered the hotel, my hands shaking so fiercely that I struggled to push a single button inside the elevator. A friendly man got on with me and asked what floor I needed, but I wasn't sure where my parents' room was located. I got back off the elevator, took a seat in the lobby, and pulled out my cell phone to give them a call.

Before I could dial the first number in the sequence, my tears wet the face of my phone.