A/N: So sorry for the short hiatus! My internet's been acting so weird, and it wouldn't let me upload this for a solid week. I hope I have kept you all interested enough to come back! In other news….Come on, Dean! Wrong timing! Chelsea is NOT Allie, maybe he's forgetting that? We shall see….

Dean couldn't believe he'd just done that. Not only was Chelsea his best friend's girlfriend, but one of his dead fiancée's closest friends. He could kick his own ass, but knew that the ass-kicking would, unfortunately and inevitably, be done by Roman himself.

Shit! Dean cursed himself over and over. He'd completely betrayed his brother now, and Allison, and even Chels. He'd let his loneliness eat him up inside for too long now, and in a way, it hurt to see someone close to him so happy and in love. Because it could have been him. It should have been. And, once upon a time, it was him.

He weighed his options here. Was he feeling something for Chelsea? Or, was he pulling the Harry Potter/Cho Chang/Cedric Diggory love triangle that he'd read about many, many years back? Should he tell Roman that he made a move on his girlfriend, or should he pretend it never happened at all? Should he apologize?

Furrowing his brow, he was completely exasperated. Yes, indeed; as quickly as he'd wondered, he'd realized that over the past few weeks, he'd fallen for Chelsea and all of her nerdy quirks. The time they'd spent in his car; the talk they'd just had...maybe he'd always been attracted to her. Or maybe, she was just the closest thing he was ever going to get to Allie ever again.

Naturally, she was off-limits to him. Not only was it because of Roman, but because of their own history. But he had to admit, the closer he got with Chelsea, the more appealing she was. She was the person that Allison was before she was empty.

And now, Dean was empty. Alone.

"Hey, hey, Dean-o, how's it going?"

Not alone. Freakin' Seth sure had a knack for showing up at ridiculous times.

"Pretty shitty, man. Just been really tore up about the Shield's disband, Roman and Chelsea are on cloud nine, and Marissa and I broke up." Though the last bit wasn't the entire truth, Dean had made his choice on the matter. He was not going to change his mind…besides, he'd kissed another girl, for Christ's sake!

But when he went to California to visit next, he would hopefully have Chelsea in tow, and give the Paris Hilton wannabe a clean, fair break. And he really wanted to apologize to Allison's family, who he once thought of as his own. It was all stuff that he knew he had to do, but was being kind of a puss, and really didn't want to go it alone. He'd considered asking Roman and Seth, but at the end of the day, the only person he thought had any business in California was Chelsea.

"You and Marissa broke up? Seriously?" Seth's mouth dropped in disbelief. "I thought you were wrapped around that little pinky of hers. Heading for the aisle, just like everyone else seems to be," Seth snorted at the last bit; though had no real reason to. Dean figured he was a little bit salty over the news about AJ's wedding. Prior to her ever-growing popularity, Seth had interest in the black widow…but the high-flying hound was not even a blip on her radar.

"More like, I was being dragged around on a diamond-encrusted leash," he thought about that as he said it, realizing for the first time how materialistic this woman was. Suddenly, he realized that there really wasn't anything that he'd liked about her at all anymore. She was childish, demanding, conniving, and just plain…not good for him. In a flash, he pulled of his Affliction t-shirt and threw it into a nearby trash can.

"Dude, that shirt cost you sixty bucks!" Seth made a grab for it, but Dean held the trash can shut.

"It doesn't matter anymore. It's just money. Maybe someone who needs a shirt will find it." He felt relieved, wearing only a white tank top now. This felt much more natural. The name brand shit, that was something the headliners like Dave Batista wore. Though he knew he had potential to be that level, he wanted to go about it in his own way. In his jeans, tank top, and boots.

Because that was the Dean that Allison would have been head over heels for.

Chelsea sat at the foot of the bed, staring at her bare feet. Her flip-flops were kicked aside, and her focus was on her slightly chipped polish. Silent tears wet each of her cheeks, and she shamelessly let them fall.

Roman must have gone for a run or something, because his bag was emptied in a pile all over the floor. She was grateful for his spurts of energy like that—she wasn't ready to face her boyfriend right after the moment she'd had with his best friend.

She loved Roman. That was undoubted. For so long, she'd thought that the feelings she had for Jeff Hardy were real, and that she'd never be able to move on from someone that she was connected to as she was. Enter Roman Reigns, and everything she thought she knew was flipped upside down.

Enter the brooding, floppy-haired, tortured soul from stage left, and the whole production ends in an abrupt clash.

Chelsea had to sort out her feelings for Dean. After the light, gentle kiss, she now knew that she felt something for him…but what, exactly?

She hated to bring outside forces in on this. For a second, she considered telling Seth the predicament she was in now, but immediately thought better of it. The other two members of the trio often made fun of the youngest for his girlish tendencies; specifically, gossip.

She texted AJ quickly, begging her to meet her as soon as possible. Her phone jingled quickly, and she read it with urgency.

From: Blocked ID

Open Attached Message: 383bb8999

Chelsea gasped, seeing the back of her head abnormally close to Dean Ambrose's, their noses grazing. His identity was unmistakable, and sadly, Chelsea's hair gave her own away.

Who the fuck would do something like this? But as her eyes glided across the small screen, she had a pretty good idea of the person behind the blocked identifier. Or, people, perhaps…

The caption read, "One hound, two hound, three hound….WHORE."

As the door swung open to the hotel room, she jumped a good five feet in the air. Powering off her phone immediately, her eyes caught Roman's, and one quick swoop later, she was in his arms.

He was damp with sweat, but she didn't care. She felt a little like a princess, and she didn't want to let that feeling go quite yet.

"I'm so, so, sorry," Roman's voice cracked. "I was acting like a grade A asshole. I've been…well, overwhelmed. I know it's not a real excuse, but please…let me make it up to you."

Chelsea absent-mindedly played with the scruff of his goatee, amazed at how she had managed to captivate somebody so perfect.

Still holding her, Roman ducked down, his lips grazing hers. She wrapped a hand around his neck, pulling him closer to her mouth, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

But as much as she'd wanted to enjoy the moment, she couldn't; her mind kept wandering back to Dean.

She pulled away out of sheer frustration, not fully sure of what she was thinking.

"Is that a yes?" Roman asked her, seemingly oblivious to her awkwardness. Maybe he was used to it by now.

"Yes?" she answered, confused. Roman smirked.

"I can make it up to you?"

"Of course you can."

"I would love to take you out to dinner. On my run, I saw this place…"

Chelsea couldn't help but tune out her man. All she saw was Dean, and the sadness behind his eyes.

Roman was excited to spend a little time with his woman before taking her back to his Florida home. He'd been planning her party for a month now, and everyone invited so far had given the thumbs-up that they were coming. Even AJ had conned her fiancé into coming along, the first time that any of his former co-workers would see him since he'd quit following the Rumble.

He'd picked out something really special for Chelsea, with help from AJ and Tamina. Dean had trailed the three, whining about going shopping at all. But his gift for Chels had been burning a hole in his pocket for a few weeks, and he was truly anticipating the moment she received his gift.

He still felt horribly for the way he'd acted towards her, so he had hoped that taking her somewhere nice would make up for it. He could give his gift to her at the end of the evening, and hopefully, she would forgive his asshole behavior.

She was acting a little off, though. She'd jumped a bit when he'd returned, and was looking past him whenever he'd spoken to her.

"Did you bring something nice along? Or did you want to stop and pick up a cocktail dress?" Roman asked the thoughtful Diva, who still hadn't much acknowledged him at all. Whatever she was dwelling on seemed to be taking her full attention, and Roman hoped that he wasn't the ultimate reason for her angst.

She stuck her foot absent-mindedly back into her shoe, then flicked her flip-flop to her heel nervously, letting it click against her foot. "I have something, I think," she said quietly. She rose from the spot she'd been glued to, her eyes trained on Roman's.

"I love you, Chelsea," he said to her, his eyes burning into hers again. She smiled in response, rose to her tiptoes, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Love you, too, Ro."

Roman wondered if it was normal for men to get butterflies. This woman had him tied, hung up, tapped out. The simple action further proved that he was, indeed, with the only woman he wanted to be with ever again.

Chelsea scuttled around in the bathroom, proud of the work she'd accomplished. She'd found her gold eyeshadow buried at the bottom of her makeup bag and swept it across her lids, laying off from her eyeliner for the first time in recent memory. She'd contoured her cheekbones like a madwoman, straightened and hairsprayed her hair so that no flyaways were left untamed. The red in her hair looked a little odd with the pretty ensemble, it was the only bit of the outfit that proved it was definitely Chelsea. She had slipped into a dark brown, strapless satin tube dress. Her feet were squeezed in gold heeled sandals, with wraps around her ankles that reminded her a little like something Cleopatra might have worn. She looked at her black flip-flops tossed in the corner, sort of wishing she could wear those instead. But she knew that she wanted to really dress up; look amazing for an amazing man.

And maybe even remind herself that she deserved someone as great as Roman.

Though it was something she never would have normally worn, she wanted to try something different. Something to prove to the world that she wasn't a creature of the dark, a soulless mental ward patient, or whatever it was they saw when they looked her way. Chelsea had always been very careful of what she wore, always trying to stay as true to her own style as she could. Though she was pushing the envelope a bit further with this look, she still felt alright with what she'd chosen. Maybe it was an attempt to prove that she wasn't just a kid anymore. Maybe she wanted to look more like an adult for the night, and prove to Roman she was capable of an adult relationship.

She finished her look off with a chunky, champagne-colored crystal necklace, feeling, for the first time in her entire life…elegant.

She let her heels click against the tile of the bathroom floor, reaching for the knob.

"Chelsea," Jeff's eyes were locked on her cleavage, the slinky black dress clinging to her bony body. She instantly felt uncomfortable, and she knew she'd fucked up instantly. He hated anything that showed off her body, telling her numerous times that her body was only meant for him, and if anyone else should look her way, she was automatically dressed trashy.

This short little dress she'd borrowed from the Bella twins definitely didn't meet Jeff's requirements, nor his approval.

"Come on, Chels, I want you to meet someone," Nattie had pulled at her, and Chelsea had stumbled a little in her black kitten heels. She wasn't used to the shoes, the hair, or the makeup. She wasn't much of a diva at all, actually. Dressing up had never really been her thing, but the Bella twins had worked magic on her. For once, she looked less like a scrub and more like…well, she belonged. She would admit, she still looked awkward, her feet not too stable on the heels and her makeup toned down by a long shot. The dress was a bit ill-fitting since Nikki had much bigger tits than she did, but she felt confident regardless. Maybe it was the few shots she'd taken with the girls prior to coming to the venue. Call it liquid courage.

It was the night she'd been waiting for forever. She was going to meet Trish Stratus, her wrestling idol. She'd heard amazing things about the woman, and somehow, she'd managed to score a seat during the induction ceremony near the front. Chelsea suspected Nat had pulled some strings, and she was thrilled for that.

"Actually, Natalie, if you don't mind, I'd like to talk to Chels for a minute. I'll send her your way when I'm finished."

Natalie sniffed as she waved her hand. It was like she already knew Jeff was going to ruin the evening her for friend.

His darkened eyes watched the blonde woman as she made her way through the security guards, her shimmering red dress flouncing behind her while she walked. Natalie could pass as a Hollywood startlet, Chelsea thought to herself.

She turned her focus to Jeff, and his lips began to twitch as he forced a sickening smile.

"You look like shit," he said, his voice way too happy. He sounded psychotic, like Chelsea knew he really was, but couldn't admit.

"You really think so? But Nikki spent so much time trying to make me look…"

"Like a fucking whore," he finished, rolling his eyes. "Why do you want so badly to be like her? To be like them at all? What's wrong with the person you are?"

Chelsea shrugged. "I mean, I like who I am. I like my jeans and t-shirt personality. I could care less about the bag I'm carrying and who designed it. I just…I don't know, I'm finally meeting Trish, and I wanted to look presentable."

Jeff let out a hearty laugh. "Please, Chelsea. You? Look presentable? You will always look like you just drug your skinny ass out of bed and snorted a few lines. You will never look 'pretty', or 'hot', or even fucking 'alright'. You will never be the kind of diva that they need here. You're just a drug-slinging slut, no better and no worse than the ring rats."

By now, Chelsea's eyes were filling with tears, the Chanel eyeliner that Nikki had expertly outlined rolling with the tears.

"I don't like this you at all," Jeff began pacing. "You need more than a hint of makeup. If I were you, I'd buy a year's supply. That way, nobody would have to see your true face."

Chelsea stumbled backwards again, trying to get away from Jeff, who caught her wrist. He pulled her close, the alcohol still lingering on his breath. She then noticed he had a flask in his coat pocket, and she let out a sob.

"A little tipsy, are we?" he growled angrily, his hand cutting off circulation to her wrist.

"You should speak for yourself!" she stood up for herself, and his eyes tore into hers. She would pay for this later.

"Jeff, what the fuck?" Chelsea broke away from the rainbow-haired warrior's grasp before she could look to see who had interrupted the stare-down. She turned and ran far, far away. She wouldn't be meeting her idol. She just wanted to get out of this stupid dress and drink her sorrows.

And that she did.

Chelsea took a deep breath as she let herself out of the bathroom, giving one quick last glance in the mirror. She had to remind herself that Roman and Jeff were completely different, that not once had Ro made her feel less than perfect.

Roman stood right outside the door, on the phone. She couldn't quite catch who he was speaking to, but figured it was the restaurant. He was clad in a suit, the dark gray pinstripe bringing out the color of his eyes. His hair was neatly combed back, his tall stature looking dashing as ever.

He turned, pressing the END button and nearly bumping into Chelsea. His jaw dropped almost instantly.

"Whoa."

Chelsea smirked. "Whoa good, or whoa, bad?"

"Whoa, good. Whoa, where is Chelsea?"

"Funny. I thought I'd try something different…I can change if you hate it," she suddenly felt like she was an ant under a magnifying glass, scrambling in the heat.

"Chelsea, no. You look…stunning. I don't even have the right words for how beautiful you look. And it's really, really nice to see your eyes."