More writing for the July 4th weekend here in the states. Because...'Merica.

A few hours later, and the next thing on Chelsea Sweetly's itinerary was shooting for vignettes and her entrance video. Again, she didn't have much in-ring work to highlight, but she did have a look that was different and new. Focusing on that might help her gain some fan support. But, since she griped about it a little during their workout, Roman had insisted that he escort Chelsea to her shooting session. It kind of made sense since if they were going to skip town together, but having him there was unnerving. Naturally, she made him swear he wasn't going to stand there and watch. She was comfortable with him, but not really that comfortable...

Unfortunately, Roman made it clear that he wouldn't make that promise. The shoot was going to be held within the hotel, because they had an immaculate suite open and available. The sort of suite that someone like Mariah Carey would be staying at. Apparently, there were diehard WWE fans on the staff. With the go-ahead from the hotel's owner, things quickly expedited. The hotel manager was thrilled to have the room used in a WWE video and offered the key card as soon as John Laurenitis had asked. Sure, there was only one major scene happening in the hotel, but that didn't seem to matter. Chelsea supposed it could be an interesting marketing scheme for the building.

Except...she wasn't really someone important in the WWE.

Not yet, but that doesn't mean you can't be, she told herself.

Roman stood by as a simple observer, ignoring one of the production assistants with huge tits fawning all over him. Although it seemed like this was dragging a little bit with all the cuts and re-shoots, the idea was a solid one. It seemed that the WWE was going to air clips of Chelsea's video, building up for an in-ring return. It would double as her entrance video once she got that far. He'd overheard one of the tech guys say that he didn't have much to work with for footage of Chelsea in the ring, since she didn't have many highlights. Someone hushed him, a woman, and assured him that once the video editing was over, they wouldn't need it anyways. Roman couldn't help but wonder why so much trouble was going into Chelsea Sweetly. It made him wonder...if perhaps she was being groomed for a bigger storyline?

Before the first scene, he watched as Chelsea sat in one of the makeup artist's chairs, her eyes closed as the woman patted some special foundation that apparently helped with the lighting. It was really nice to see her without the heavy makeup; she looked absolutely stunning. He realized that she didn't need much in order to be attractive.

But when the first scene was shot, he watched Chelsea lean into the mirror, looking at herself with absolute disdain. She was so good at the look of disgust upon seeing her reflection, he couldn't help but think that she did that every single day.

He watched as the camera caught her fumbling around the sink area for a black eyeliner pen, closing in on the woman as she lined her eyes heavily with black liquid. The sophisticated woman who was once in front of the bathroom mirror was replaced with what Chelsea wanted the world to see.

They cut the scene, and Chelsea turned to him and gave him a goofy grin with a thumbs up. He returned her grin with a toothy smile, still ignoring the chick who would have been ready and willing to find a different empty room if he'd given her the signal. Obviously, his presence with Chelsea wasn't enough of a deterrent. But, there were people who just never got the hint.

Next, he watched as the team shot awesome footage of Chelsea get frustrated with her reflection. She gripped the sides of the sink, unable to look back up at herself. When she did, she was teary-eyed (with the help of Visine). In one solid take, they got Chelsea in a great pose, ready to reel back and punch toward the mirror. Her fist stopped just a hair before the exterior, and he guessed that they would just edit in the shattered effect.

Roman recognized the salon-style mirror fondly; it looked very much like the one at the beauty parlor his mom used to drag him to when he was a young child. He would be left to look through tons of magazines while she got her "hair did." Snapping from his happy memory, he could easily imagine the glass shattering. Chelsea's intensity in the shoot was fantastic, and her facial expressions clearly captured the animosity. But then, Roman thought how, regardless of the concept, she had no reason to be angry over how she looked. People just expected her to be something she wasn't, and he supposed that was a heavy load to carry.

But, that dress—he couldn't take his eyes off from her in it. It was black, and the corset-style of the top accentuated her breasts to the point that Roman idly wondered if they were real. He guessed that they were. The skirt of the dress flared out just a little bit, but was just long enough to cover her panties.

Damn.

Paired with some buckled, black high-heel boots, Chelsea looked like a sex goddess that just broke out of hell. Roman couldn't tear his eyes away, and he had a good feeling that Chelsea knew that. She turned to him a few times, eyebrows raised, and she would stick out her tongue knowingly.

The makeup ladies had also sprayed her dark hair a thousand times, making certain that not a single hair was going to stray. Her pretty curls stayed in place. The only thing he was admittedly bothered by was that Dean had pointed out that she'd kept the teal dye at the ends of her hair. It was clear that she hadn't moved on yet. But even still, he hoped that he could change that...

Roman wasn't prepared for the final image, though—Chelsea destroying that gorgeous black dress, letting it fall apart in shreds by her own hands. He assumed the camera was staying above her black strapless bra, focusing in on her back tattoo. He was intrigued by the images, and he knew it was some sort of Greek mythology. Of course, he hadn't paid much attention in his philosophy classes. Although the images demonstrated a story he was certain he had heard, he couldn't quite recall the whole thing. But, he hoped, that sometime during their stay in his home, he'd find out more.

A few different cameras took shots around her, showing her grab on to her hair, a look of pain on her face as though she was hearing voices that weren't really there. They got one final look from her, a look that spelled out death, as she peered from beneath her veil of black hair.

And finally, she was recorded her playing with shards of broken glass. It looked as though she was trying to re-assemble a mirror, a delicate red rose off to the side. The image was perfect: She looked like she was finishing a puzzle or sorts, hanging out in her black bra and some sort of spandex shorts. The look on her face now held regret. Like she was trying to rebuild her image.

But, wasn't she doing exactly that?

"That's a wrap," said someone, and Roman knew it was time to leave the room before she noticed that he was still watching her. The lone tech woman brought over a robe for Chelsea, a smiled plastered on her face like she'd finished the shooting of an Academy Award-winning movie.

The look on Chelsea's face as the woman approached her looked vile. In fact, Roman stifled a laugh as he turned to leave. As fate would have it, the robe Chelsea was now wound up in was the most horrible shade of baby pink he could ever dream up.

The drive to Miami with Roman was kind of a long one, but they chattered on like old friends. He needed the distraction to keep his heavy lids from closing, and she could shift topics with ease. Chelsea couldn't believe how easily and naturally she was opening up to Roman. It was almost like he could pull any information out of her if he so desired. She hoped she wasn't just talking to fill silence, but she enjoyed that he listened, offering advice or comment once in awhile.

Chelsea told him about how her mom had gone off the deep end awhile ago, throwing herself into a life with her new husband. The two had gambled away most of her mother's life savings, not knowing when to quit going to casinos and accept their losses. Her brother Toby had gone off to boot camp. Sadly, that was the only proud moment their mother had of Toby. Prior to that, he had barely graduated high school. He couldn't hold a job. He spent more time with his friends on his Xbox than his real-life friends. In the past, Toby was the wild one, always getting into trouble and always causing some. But then Chelsea met Jeff.

She chattered about how she'd trained with Natalie in the dungeon, quickly becoming friends being the only two women in the class. She talked about how the Bella twins had been keeping their distance even though they didn't have any direct problem with her, and about how she'd suspected that the blonde woman was behind their silence. She mentioned that the women's division wasn't looking very hopeful right now, because the people with talent had either terrible gimmicks (Naomi) or were just outright hated (AJ).

She mentioned that she was still hurt that Nat hadn't invited her to the greatest Hart Foundation event of the year: Her wedding.

She said that she'd hoped that the woman that was to take over AJ's title was an excellent champion, and that WWE didn't turn her into some sort of weak, wussy champion like they had with many of the past women. She admitted that she didn't know Paige at all, but that AJ was kind of salty over the exchange despite the NXT champion's deserve of becoming a title holder on the main roster.

After her long-winded chat about the women's roster, Roman had asked her about her tattoo. He said he'd noticed that it was there, but didn't know what it was. And so, she talked about how many hours she'd sat through with her tattoo artist, deciding the perfect placement and imagined what Pandora's box really would have held. She showed him the medical symbol on her wrist, saying she was paying homage to the rap artist, Eminem, because he'd gone through some serious struggles similar to her own. She admitted that the "Recovery" album, though it's reviews were average, had really helped her through some tough things.

She'd learned that Roman's own tattoo was a Samoan tribal band, and that many men in his family had similar fashions.

Then she started telling him that no matter what she did, she still had nightmares about her past. They were only bad memories with gnarly twists, but she'd give anything to have the normal dreams that people talked about. Teeth falling out, falling into the abyss, or being chased. Anything that didn't involve Jeff Hardy would be fine.

"Sometimes when you dream something, it's because your subconscious is still stuck on it," he told her. "Even when you think you've moved forward."

Chelsea picked at her dark purple fingernail polish that she'd only just put on last night. It was obvious that Roman knew that she still thought about Jeff, and saw him in her mind, and felt him every step. He probably also knew that she was dying to just let it all go. But how?

"Chelsea, from a friend—there are six, almost seven billion people in this world. Don't let one continue to ruin your life."

She looked at him, trying to keep her jaw from hitting the floor. For lack of a better metaphor, he'd read her like an open book.

He jerked the wheel, merging onto a highway. "We're only about an hour away now," he commented, catching her eye. The subject changed so abruptly that she wasn't sure what he was talking about for a split second. Almost as if he never said the previous comment at all.

She slid her sunglasses down from her head, the sunlight starting to annoy her eyes.

"He's not still ruining my life," she stated, trying to sound convincing. "He's not even in my life anymore." There was no point in hiding what her nightmares revolved around. It was pretty clear that Roman knew. Dammit, he knew.

Roman was grinning, almost cockily. "He's still a part of it," he shot back, though the tone was soft. His eyes stayed on the road, flickering between the windshield and his rearview mirror from time to time.

"But you want him to be. You've kept the ends of your hair teal, just like his," Chelsea wondered how he'd thought of that.

Chelsea laughed. "So because I dyed my hair to match his once upon a time, I want him in my life? Who would have known that Superman is actually the Incredible Hulk. Green with envy, with a small brain and a lot of muscle."

Roman dug an elbow into Chelsea's side, trying hard not to laugh and keeping his eye on the road.

"Why don't you change it, then?" Roman asked, hoping that she'd agree to change her hair color. That would prove that she was trying to move past Jeff Hardy and everything else that she was stuck on.

"I will!"

The next major exit, he turned off the highway, finding a drugstore on the main turnoff.

"Pick a color, any color," he said. "Not teal, or any form of teal. I'll be waiting."

He wondered if he was being harsh on Chelsea. But through the whole time they'd talked, he had to admit that she was a lot deeper of a person than he'd ever met. The woman wasn't one-dimensional. With women like Marissa or Summer Rae, what you saw was what you got. Nothing special.

It was, however, high time that Chelsea chopped her damn binds. He'd always heard Naomi say "New hair, new life!" and maybe it'd work for Chelsea, too. At least when she looked at herself in the mirror, she wouldn't think of Jeff in the back of her mind. He was surprised that Dean was completely right about why she kept it the way she did, and he wondered how Dean could have possibly known that.

Chelsea emerged from the building, a plastic bag in hand.

She sat down, clearly a little embarrassed.

"Well?" he said, prompting her to open the bag.

She pulled out a box of the Splat! brand that Eva Marie was notorious for using between salon visits.. But instead of the flaming red color Eva used, Chelsea held a deep, burgundy color in her hand.

"The lady at the beauty counter said it would cover the teal," she mumbled. "Without destroying my hair with a load of bleach."

Roman side-hugged Chelsea, proud that she'd stuck to her word. She looked up at him, still in his awkward embrace. He was so close, all he had to do was bend down, and his lips would find hers…

She cleared her throat, pulling away. "So about that 2k14 rematch," she changed the subject, avoiding the fact that they just had a pretty intense moment. She wasn't quite ready to delve into anything deeper with Roman. After all, they'd barely gotten to know each other. While he was damn sexy, she really didn't want to get hurt. She also didn't want Roman to go blabbing to the whole locker room about Chelsea Sweetly being an easy target. She was trying to fix her image. She wanted to believe that Roman was different. But there was always the possibility that he was exactly the same as the rest.

He shifted the car into gear. "You can't beat me. Not this time. I was just going easy on you because I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

Alright, what the hell had happened in the parking lot? She couldn't get that off from her mind.

Chelsea was pretty sure that Roman was about to kiss her. After he called her out on her hair, she was done for. She always thought that nobody knew the real reason she'd spent so much time trying to keep it from fading to Jeff's favorite teal to a greenish yellow.

But, you shouldn't miss people who don't miss you, right? Jeff had made it clear that he wasn't interested in anything further with her. All the times he was silent after she declared her love. All the time she spent wishing to be with him in his bed when she knew he was with Beth. All of the physical pain he'd put her through. Shit, all of the emotional pain he'd put her through!

She was starting to get choked up in regret. She closed her eyes, hoping to pull up a good memory as she drifted off to sleep...

"Chelsea," she heard Jeff whisper, and she moved, letting him lay next to her.

"I've missed you," she mumbled sleepily, an empty bottle of Jack next to her.

"I know." They stayed like that for a moment, and he pulled her face towards his, his kisses intoxicating. She began peeling her black t-shirt off, her breasts bouncing with release. Jeff breathed into her neck, and she felt his member thick through his basketball shorts. He smoothed her hair, pushing his body on to hers...

"I can't stay for long. I'm not supposed to be here," he murmured, his lips still caught on hers.

"You're only suspended," she spoke back. She hadn't expected him to turn up at all tonight, even though she'd been texting him in hopes that he would.

"For now. What happens if I can't be here anymore?" he asked, pulling away. His eyes shown in the darkness like stars.

Chelsea pulled herself up, her naked body chilled. She could feel her tears coming, her voice caught in her throat. She hadn't given thought to more action regarding Jeff's current suspension because it didn't seem like an issue. But what if he was fully expelled from the WWE? She'd be alone, without the only person who cared about her.

"We could make it work, Jeff," she mumbled, even though she knew better.

"No...this wouldn't work anymore," he said finally. "I mean...we couldn't work anymore."

Chelsea woke up in a second, throwing that memory back into the pile of crap it crawled out of. Who was she kidding? With Jeff, there was no 'good' memory. Besides, she could pull them out whenever she wanted, but the fact was, Jeff wasn't coming back for her.

She looked at Roman, who was concentrating on his driving. He looked back at her and smiled, asking her if she had a nice nap. She looked down at the clock. She'd been out for only about twenty minutes, but it was enough to feel slightly refreshed.

Both were silent for a moment, and Chelsea fought the urge to pull out her iPod and blow her eardrums out. The ride had become very weird, and the air became almost stiff in Roman's car. Thoughts of Jeff danced in her head. She shifted, pulling her feet up on the seat like a little kid might do, holding her ankles.

Roman must've read her mind, because he flipped on the radio. He toggled the switch for a moment, and settled on something. It had a fantastic guitar riff, then slowed. The melody and female vocalist was haunting, similar to the late, great likes of Cher.

No matter what you say or what you do,

I know how this will end.

So I'm turning away now, before we begin.

I'm dangerous for you, dangerous for you.

Roman reached for the radio again, but Chelsea knocked away his hand. The song had been purely coincidental, but she had to know who and what it was—it was describing how she was thinking perfectly. She had to know how this song ended, because she couldn't help but wonder if that's how this, whatever this was, would end, too.

I'm dangerous, I'm dangerous for you,

My promise is, I will hurt you.

Well, that didn't sound too promising. Chelsea was fully aware that she was running from Roman. The guy who had her back, and so far, hadn't judged her negatively for her past behavior. Except, she guessed, the part where Jeff still controlled it. Like a puppet master of sorts. Regardless, she wanted to let Roman get close to her, but she couldn't help but feel like she was going to hurt. She knew it was time to let go of the memory of Jeff Hardy, who she considered to be her first true love.

What if that wasn't love at all?

It was a huge risk here. The chances of getting her heart broken again were extremely high. Yet, Roman's words still hung in her head, urging her not to keep letting one single person ruin her life. Maybe she should let Jeff go...besides, the truth was, there wasn't much left to hold on to. She knew she had some kind of feelings for the Samoan, and so she decided, in that moment, she could never explore them further if she was hung up on Jeff fuckin' Hardy.

Taking a deep breath, she switched off the radio, and slipped her hand onto Roman's, which was resting on the drive shaft. She wiggled her fingers into his large hands, and he turned towards her, his face knit together in question.

"If you want to get to know me…if you want to learn more….I think I'm willing to talk," she said, her thoughts just as jumbled as her words. "But it's not pretty. My life, my past..we've barely scratched the surface. As much as I wish it were...none of it is perfect."

He looked at her for a long moment, then turned back to the empty highway. The words hung in the air, and all Chelsea could think was that perhaps she'd read him totally wrong. He was going to shoot her down, too. Take the rug right out from under her feet, and break whatever was left of the heart she had.

"I didn't expect it to be. Besides, perfect isn't real," he said finally, his eyes searching hers. Somehow, he was able to maintain control of the car despite the intense moment they shared. They sure seemed to be full of them tonight.

Chelsea breathed a tiny sigh of relief, and he squeezed her hand with his. She had given Roman the go-ahead, the green light. She was finally willing to talk to him about the bullshit she'd gone through, seen, and felt. That in itself was an accomplishment. In time, Roman hoped they could pursue an actual relationship. He was so interested in this unique woman that every thought he had pertaining to dating within the company was pretty much out the window. Shit, she could be the one.

Ah, well. One step at a time.

Or in this case, one giant leap.