Step Five. Learn to say sorry - it can serve as an interesting conversation starter.

I reached the end of the bridge before I turned my head around, subtly sneaking a glance at a pair of black converse and the bottoms of dark corduroy pants. I didn't have the guts to look into the person's eyes - not wanting to make it too obvious that I had noticed their presence, but I could feel their two pupils drilling into the back of my head.

For a moment, my mother's words ("If you ever feel unsafe, find a responsible adult.") came to mind and I spent the next few seconds looking around for somebody who looked like one. I soon remembered, however, that Mom gave me that advice when I was six, and that it was now up to me to be the responsible adult.

So, I did what any logical, mature grown-up would do, and took off in a sprint the moment I reached the end of the bridge.

My white Birkenstock's - built for strolling around farmer's markets in upper-middle-class suburbs and not fleeing from potential attackers - awkwardly clip-clopped on the hard ground and rubbed harshly against my bare toes. I only clenched my jaw, determined not to let a pair of inappropriate shoes be the reason I was the twenty-first-century Jennifer Levin.

I just have to get back to the boathouse, I just have to get back to the boathouse, there are people there and he probably won't hurt me if people are watching. The thought pulsed inside my head like some sort of musical beat.

As fervently as I was trying to convince myself, I reconsidered my chances of reaching the boathouse when I heard sneakers pounding on the pavement a few paces behind me. Hard and fast. Faster than me.

I had to change my strategy.

Thinking on my feet, I skidded to an awkward stop, took a deep breath and balled up both my fists. Within seconds, my pursuer had reached me, and I felt a hand wrap around my shoulder.

"Hey-"

"LEAVE! ME! ALONE!"

I swung an arm forward then swung it back again until it connected with something hard. A loud "hmmph!" later, the hand let me go and fell to the concrete along with the rest of the offender's body. I knew I should have fled in terror right then, but I couldn't help but turn on my heel to look at whoever had seen fit to stalk me across Central Park.

Fully expecting to see nothing but a scary stranger, I instead recognised the person gasping and spluttering on the floor as-

"OH MY GOD! CAMERON?!"

Fifteen minutes later, the man who I had elbowed with the ferocity of a UFC fighter and I were enjoying lattes together in a nearby cafe.

"I'm so sorry again," I said in a low voice.

Still cupping his sternum, Cameron only laughed softly.

"No, it's okay. I was just on a walk and I saw you- and I just wanted to- Anyway, I should've known better than to just start following a girl I used to know."

I cringed a little at the last bit, not really wanting Cameron to just refer to me as somebody he used to know, but knowing that, right now, anything else would have been still too raw. Too painful.

"So…" Cameron began, hesitating. The slow trailing off brought out his slight Southern drawl.

"So?" I added, a half-smile tugging at my lips.

"I thought you were in Thailand."

"I thought you were down in Pensacola." I fired back. In our last year of high school, Cameron had been offered a football scholarship to UWF. A decent player but not quite decent enough to play at any of the big football schools like UF or A&M, he had committed to becoming an Argo the last time I saw him.

Cameron looked down and, for a moment, I swore that a slight grimace came to his face.

"Some things just don't work out, I guess." He muttered in a small voice that I had never heard him use before.

I merely nodded empathetically in Cameron's direction. "I could say the same."

There was a pause in the conversation, and I finally plucked up the courage to ask the question I had wanted to since the moment I realized that it was Cameron on the ground in front of me.

"You don't hate me, do you?"

"I told you, Ari. I don't blame you for hitting me in the park-"

"No, no, I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about… about… what happened last year."

At first, Cameron only furrowed his eyebrows.

"Why would I hate you, Ari?"

"Because I think I ruined your life." I blurted out. There was, quite frankly, no other way to put it.

My old friend was silent for some time. When he spoke again, his voice was warm yet firm.

"You didn't ruin my life and I do not hate you, Ari. Yeah, what came out and what happened messed it up, but it wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."

I didn't believe a word that Cameron said, but I found myself nodding and muttering a soft "okay, thanks" anyway. It was like when your middle school math teacher came to your desk and explained a problem to you and when he asked if you understood, you lied and said you did because you just wanted to stop talking about it.

"I'm sorry I elbowed you again." I added, hastily changing the subject, "I can't believe I thought you were going to hurt me. My mom used to call you a walking Golden Retriever."

A half-smile came to Cameron's face, yet he didn't look happy. "How is your mom anyway?"

I only scoffed, "How should I know? I still don't talk to her."

"Oh, gee, I'm sorry, Ari. I had no idea. If it makes you feel any better, my dad and I aren't on great terms." Cameron paused, "Who are you talking to these days?"

"You know. My grandpa and grandma, Uncle Shane and Marissa, my cousins…" My voice faltered when I realized that that was about it.

"Not your sisters?"

"No, not since I left home that last time." I muttered, shaking my head, "It's just too weird, Cam. I want to, but it's just too weird."

Cameron gave me a sympathetic frown, "I couldn't imagine spending the last year not speaking to Cheyenne. She moved back to Texas with Mom when I went to college, but we call each other two or three times a week. Nobody else understands what we've been through."

"I wish it was like that with my sisters," I admitted, looking down at my lap. "The past year wouldn't have been nearly as lonely."

Cameron's sympathetic look only intensified and, before long, he was leaning forward slightly as if he was about to tell me something important.

"Can we be friends again? I know everything's still a big mess right now and I don't exactly know what to call you, but can I at least call you a friend?" He asked.

The first place my mind wandered was back to when Cameron had said he still didn't really talk to his dad anymore. But, then, I couldn't help but think about how close we used to be when we were younger. How much we used to tell each other. How much we used to look out for each other. How much I would look forward to that week in the summer that both of our families spent together because it would almost feel like having a brother.

It was almost funny thinking about that last one now.

"Okay," I found myself saying, surprised by how easily the word slipped out in the end, "Friends sounds good."

"Good." Cameron agreed simply, a smile creeping over his features once again.

I would have said something more if my phone hadn't started buzzing obnoxiously at that moment. Usually one to screen calls even before I cut out half of my family, I merely glanced at the screen, only to see that my uncle was calling.

"Oh, I better get this. I gave my grandpa a heart attack last night." I mumbled.

Cameron laughed until he realized I wasn't joking.

"I hope you're not calling me to tell me that Grandpa's dead after what I went through to get that laptop this morning." I groaned into the receiver.

"No, I just got back from the hospital and he's fighting fit. He even gave a shrill "Go to hell!" when I asked if he should be working." Shane answered, "What I'm really worried about is the aneurysm your grandmother almost had when she turned up just before and you weren't in the poolhouse."

"She needn't worry." I sighed, rubbing a hand over my eyes, "I'm just in the city. I felt like I needed to get out of Connecticut for the morning."

"SHE'S JUST IN THE CITY! SHE JUST FELT LIKE SHE NEEDED TO GET OUT OF CONNECTICUT FOR THE MORNING!" Shane repeated loudly, prompting me to cringe.

"Tell her she can get off the phone with the International Commission of Missing Persons now."

"YOU CAN GET OFF THE-"

"No! Don't actually tell her!" I hissed, "Look, I'm coming back home now anyway. I'll make a mental note to announce it on a megaphone the next time I'm going somewhere."

"Hey, you can't blame her for having a little bit of separation anxiety. You've been on another continent for a year."

I softly sighed again, knowing he was right but also knowing there was no way I was admitting that. "Bye, Shane."

"Bye, kid."

I hung up the phone, and Cameron and I immediately sent each other knowing glances.

"Well, they sound good." He said wryly.

I couldn't help but quietly laugh into the back of my fist, "Oh, I'm so glad you're around again now." I beamed; only having extended members of the McMahon family to talk to was bound to eventually drive me insane.

Cameron grinned in response, and there was a brief moment between us where I could have sworn it was like we were in the summer after senior year again, taking swigs out of the flask Cameron had snuck up from Florida under the balcony of the house our parents had rented. Right before the disaster. Right before my entire life changed.

I wanted to exist in that moment forever.

"I should go." I eventually muttered nevertheless, giving Cameron a soft smile before getting up on my feet. I stopped and gently squeezed his shoulder before I walked out the door, "I'll call you."

"I'm at NYU now. In University Hall. You should come and visit sometime."

I had to briefly stifle a chuckle at the thought of Cameron - the Cameron who had loved the three fs (football, fishing and four-wheeling) - going to a school like NYU. Then I remembered the sound of his voice and the look on his face when he told me things hadn't worked out at UWF, and it suddenly became clear that the man sitting in front of me maybe wasn't that Cameron anymore.

I hoped that wasn't my fault.

"That sounds nice," I said softly, nodding my head. I gave his shoulder one last squeeze before letting go. "Take care of yourself, Cammie."

"You too, RiRi."

We both smiled. Just like old times.

After I had left the cafe and was on my way to 86th Street to get on the New Haven line, my mind drifted to going back to Thailand again. For the second time in twenty-four hours, I felt vague apprehension instead of excitement.

It was now four days removed from my grandfather's "I'm not staying here"-induced heart attack and, against my better judgment, I had accepted another request to bring him something from his office. This time, I was searching for a singular USB - black in color, located somewhere in the vicinity of his desk.

"GODDAMNIT, VINCE!"

As you can imagine, my success was limited.

When I was roughly five minutes away from calling my grandpa in a flurry of sobs and "why do you have to make everything so hard?"s, the sound of footsteps out in the carpeted hallway tore me away from ransacking his office for the time being. Instead of cowering with fear like I did the last time I was in Vince McMahon's office at 7 am, I slowly rose to my feet. Since my teary encounter with Seth a couple of days ago, I had pieced together some bravado and, if this was him again, I was determined to give him a piece of my mind.

After a few moments passed and nobody ever appeared in the doorway or called out an irked "Hello?!", I furrowed my eyebrows. Gingerly, I approached the open doorway and peered around the other side.

The first thing I saw, sitting propped up on the unattended receptionist's desk, was a bouquet of yellow tulips, delicately wrapped in brown paper with a small card that I couldn't quite read sitting amongst them. For a few moments, I simply stared at the blooms like some kind of gawking fool.

"Do you like tulips?"

It was only then I saw the man I had wanted to angrily lecture just a minute before standing by the elevator (I had obviously caught him as he was trying to silently leave). However, instead of storming over to him and doing just that, the bravest reaction I could muster was a soft smile.

"I think they're beautiful," I replied, before slowly approaching the arrangement. When I got close enough, I leaned over the flowers and took in a gentle sniff; they smelt of a flower show I vaguely remember my mom and grandma dragging me to when I was little. "Who did you bring them for?"

Seth only cleared his throat and looked down at his feet, and I was confused until I caught sight of the card again.

To the girl I made cry on Tuesday,

I'm really sorry.

Seth Rollins

No one had ever given me flowers before.

I wanted to tell him that. I also wanted Seth to know how amazing it made me feel and how the most any guy had ever done for me before was when Drew Colbert from Brunswick School promised to take me to our schools' joint prom in exchange for a handjob. It was probably for the best when I opened my mouth and all that came out was:

"It's Ari, by the way."

Seth looked up at me again, a sheepish look settling across his features, "Hi, Ari. I'm Seth. I promise I'm not some asshole who yells at girls in his boss' office, I was just having an… astronomically bad couple of days."

"I figured." I quietly murmured. I didn't. As a matter of fact, I had spent the last couple of days a little more than upset that my high school crush turned out to be nothing but a hot-headed prick.

I heard the man let out a sigh and one of his hands went to his forehead, "Thank God. I was really worried that I'd hurt your feelings, hence the flowers."

Seth probably deserved to know that he did hurt my feelings, but the sixteen-year-old girl inside of me just about died when I heard that Seth had been worrying about my feelings. Nevertheless, I kept my expression mostly neutral, except for a slight curl of my lips and head tilt.

"Well, that's very nice of you," I replied coolly, crossing my arms. Seth eventually met my eyes again, and I could see that his face had gone a little red. I wasn't smart enough at the time to figure out why.

"Well, um, I should get going," Seth muttered, gesturing his head towards the elevator.

"Yeah, I need to get back to work. I'm supposed to be looking for a USB for the old man. He's still in hospital for another couple of days…" I trailed off when I remembered that I was supposed to be keeping that a secret, "Hey, you haven't gone around telling everybody about Vince, have you?"

Seth softly chuckled and leaned forward enough for me to see a shrewd flash in his eyes, "I've been working for him for eight years. I'm well aware of how to treat it when Vince isn't working at his best." The man uttered before giving me the slightest wink.

We shared a grin and, for the second time in the conversation, sixteen-year-old Ari's heart stopped; this was all I ever dreamed of back then…

Okay, perhaps there was a small part of me that also wanted it now.

Before I allowed myself to think about it too hard, I turned away from Seth to scoop up my flowers. "Well, thank you, again," I said, even though I couldn't remember thanking the man the first time for the tulips. "It was very thoughtful."

"I'd say thoughtful is my middle name, but I did just make you cry two days ago. I'm so sorry again." Seth responded as I looked back. He was still close enough for me to catch a flicker of nervousness pass over his features. Again, I had no idea why. "I… um…"

I softly furrowed my eyebrows when Seth hesitated, "Yeah?"

"I- Actually, never mind. I'll see you around, Ari." He stuttered out. The man then quickly turned around towards the elevator. My eyebrows stayed low as I watched Seth swipe the keycard he had and press the button for the ground floor; he was avoiding eye contact.

"Well… Bye." I called out, before turning around myself and shuffling back towards Grandpa's office. I couldn't help but feel that there was something that needed to be said between Seth and I, but I didn't want to make him feel more awkward and nervous than he already did.

"Hey!" I heard right as I reached the doorway of Grandpa's office. I whipped my head around perhaps a little too fast to see Seth's head poking out of the elevator, looking right at me.

"Doesn't Vince have a granddaughter named Ari as well? The one that… you know… but she was actually… you know?"

Now, the smartest thing to do here would have been to admit that I was Vince's granddaughter; the one that… you know… but was actually… you know. However, for reasons I wouldn't understand for some time, the only thing I said in reply to Seth was:

"Yeah, he does."

My voice was quiet and unsteady, but when Seth only nodded, I knew that, at that moment, I wasn't Ariette Levesque anymore; I was Ari, the girl from HQ who Seth Rollins knew nothing about - a blank slate.

I liked that.

"I'll see you later, Ari," Seth repeated before disappearing into the elevator again.

I waited until the doors had closed and I heard the hum of the machinery heading down towards the ground before I dared to speak out loud to myself.

"There's going to be a later?!" I proclaimed, jumping excitedly exactly once. There was no denying it anymore: my junior-year crush was back with a vengeance. I stayed in the same spot for a few more moments, grinning like an idiot and fiddling with the paper around the bouquet, before remembering that I had, in fact, came here to complete a task other than receiving gifts from my grandpa's employees. Taking a deep breath, I braced myself for plenty more cursing and fruitless searching and re-entered the office. It wasn't until I was in the middle of digging around the bottom drawer of Grandpa's desk when I realised something.

When Seth mentioned that Ari was Vince's granddaughter's name, it was after he looked back at me.

For the first time ever, Seth had looked back at me.

A/N: No one's brought this up to me yet, but I just thought I'd establish now that the portrayals of real-life people in this story are fictional. This mainly pertains to the character of Vince McMahon: I'm well aware that he's likely a predator who has taken advantage of many individuals whilst in a position of power, however, I cannot stress enough that his comic relief grandfather character in HTBAQ is not meant to be the same person. His appearance in my story is not meant to downplay or dismiss anything that he's done. Anyway, thanks a lot for reading. Love you guys.