Disclaimer: Nothing that I have written belongs to me. The characters are all property of the WWE.

Well... finals are finally over, so this is a joyful post for me. Even better, the WWE has finally stopped being so predictable. I wont go into a full on rant here about all the events that have happened this week in wrestling. If you want my thoughts you can check out my profile. I just think this is worth repeating. I love that the belts have changed hands, especially in the case of the WWE Championship. I dont remember Cena looking as hot as he did this Monday when he was mad (I know, I know, but angry guys are hot to me). As for Batista, please hurry back. Please get better. And please kick the shit out of that idiot Mark Henry. Enjoy : )

Christy smiled as she saw him. She sighed happily as his arms embraced her. She relaxed against him, feeling the entire world melt away under her feet.

"Did you break up with her?"

"Yea, baby, I did it." His answer rumbled in his chest and Christy could felt the vibrations of his words. She stood still as she heard the steady tattoo of his heart beating.

"So we can be happy now, right?"

He tightened his hold against her waist and she felt him nod. She closed her eyes. She had never felt more at peace. Swallowing hard, she felt herself tearing up. He had really done it. He had broken up with Torrie so they could be together. A small tear escaped as he slowly pulled back. His blue eyes shined back at her, a dimple showing as he smiled tenderly.

"Christy?" he asked, his voice seeming to come from far away.

"Yea?" her voice caught in her throat as his smile disappeared.

"Christy?"

"What?" asked Christy, confused.

"Christy!"

Christy felt him take her shoulders in his hands delicately. A sharp pain exploded in her right shoulder and she tried to jerk back, but she could hardly move her arm.

"Damn it!"

Christy's eyes opened slowly as she tried to grow accustomed to the harsh white lights. She let out soft a groan of pain as she tried to move her arm but a burning pain quelled her attempts.

"Hey Mark, she's awake," a voice called from her side. She turned her head to find John sitting on a chair next to her. Her breath stilled as he turned to her again. He seemed flustered to find her eyes trained on him but he returned her gaze until finally, she closed her eyes and looked away.

"Well, well, Christy. Aren't you the hero."

Christy gave a small smile as she saw Mark, the personal trainer, come into view. Although he was young, he had an extensive knowledge of medicine.

"What's wrong with her?" asked John impatiently.

"There is nothing wrong with her, John. And if you don't lower you're voice I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave," returned Mark calmly. While he was very gentle with his patients, the joke backstage was that he only liked you if you could show him an injury.

"What's wrong with her?" repeated John, tensely, though he did lower his voice .

"Her shoulder appears to have been separated." He held up the x-rays he must have taken while Christy was still unconscious and studied them. "It's not too serious, but it will put you out of action for at least two weeks."

Christy took all this in quietly, but John spoke up again. "What's she gonna have to do?"

Mark put the x-rays down and wheeled his chair to Christy's side, blocking John from view. He touched her lightly as if testing the waters. Christy winced, but didn't utter a sound. Mark nodded his head and pursed his lips. "Well, you are going to have to wear a sling," he informed her while ignoring John who was trying to peer over his shoulder at Christy. "And put an ice pack on the shoulder for fifteen minutes every four hours. You have a lot of inflammation around the joint and you'll have to take either Advil or Motrin. Also," he added, "inform me at once when the pain has subsided enough for you to be mobile. We'll want to start physical therapy quickly so you don't run the possibility of developing frozen shoulder."

"Frozen shoulder?" echoed John.

"The shoulder joint," started Mark calmly, still looking at Christy and ignoring John, which amused her greatly, "usually allows more movement than any other joint in the body. With shoulder separation, you run the risk of developing frozen shoulder if you don't follow your physical therapy diligently. Your shoulder will then become stiff and not allow the range of motion it used to. If that happens, it may take up to eighteen months to recover." He turned away from Christy to scribble something down on his notepad.

"Here," he said turning back and holding out a paper towards Christy. She reached for it with her left arm, cringing when she accidentally jarred her right shoulder. "I advise you get this medicine tonight or the pain won't let you sleep well. Remember to get some ice on that shoulder, the inflammation has to go down as soon as possible."

Christy sighed as she sat up slowly. John was at her side at once, taking her left arm and helping her hop off the raised bed. Christy slipped her arm away from him and ignored the look he shot her. She kept her eyes on the ground, walking slowly so as to not move her shoulder, which rested in a black sling.

"Mr. Cena," called Mark as they were almost out of the door. "It would be in her best interest if she limited the use of her shoulder these first few days, so I'm afraid you'll have to help her out quite a bit."

Christy blushed as she saw John nod and shut the door.

"I can probably ask Dawn to help," she muttered.

"You can," he conceded. "But you won't."

"I know how busy you are," started Christy, but she was interrupted.

"Doesn't matter how busy I am. It'd be pretty fucked up if I couldn't even help you after what you did for me."

"I didn't do it so you could feel like you owed me something."

John gripped her good arm lightly to stop her. "I know you didn't," he said softly. "But I want to help you get better." Before Christy could respond, he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her lips. His tongue traced the curve of her top lip and left her wanting more when he pulled away.

"Torrie won't like it-"

"I'm not worried about Torrie now," he said quietly. "She seems to be doin' okay with her mom. In fact, I heard her talkin' to her last night an she aint even bring up the injury."

Christy warmed at the thought of John spending time with her. Not because he felt he had to, because he wanted to.

"Thank you," she whispered, almost shyly.

John flashed her a smile, his dimple lighting up like in her dream.

(X X X)

Trish awoke with a start. She stirred from the warm bed, stretching her arms over her head. Sweeping her eyes over the dark room, her gaze focused on a big watch lying atop the drawer near her head. She bolted upright as she looked and saw a suit coat hanging from the back of a chair. This wasn't her room.

All of a sudden the events of last night crashed over her so hard, she fell back against the pillows.

Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered what had happened. She was relieved that she had talked to Stacy. They had left on a good note, and she had told Dave she was in a good mood. He had suggested they go out, his treat. How could she have possibly have known?

A tear rolled down her cheek and quivered on the tip of her chin before dropping.

Dave.

He had taken her back to his hotel room after everything. He had put himself between her and Stacy when Trish had been on the brink of giving Stacy a Chick Kick in the middle of the restaurant. He had let her ruin his silk shirt with her tears.

"Feeling any better?"

Trish's hands went to her face to wipe away the tears before she turned to the doorway.

"Fine," she answered. He raised a brow as he walked in and sat on the edge of the bed.

"You're a bad liar." He smiled as he took her hand and squeezed lightly.

Trish let out a short laugh. "I'm miserable," she said. "That better?"

Dave sighed as stood and motioned for her to do the same. Trish lifted the covers aside and stood only to find she was wearing one of his shirts. She gave him a puzzled look.

"You fell asleep in your clothes," he explained. "And I didn't want your dress to get wrinkled."

"So you undressed me?"

He chuckled lowly. "If you wanna look at it that way." He offered her his hand as he turned towards the door. "I made some breakfast if you're interested." He paused, as if embarrassed. "You don't have to eat it. I'm pretty sure I burned the bacon, and I don't think the eggs are supposed to be that runny, but if you don't want it we could go out."

Trish had to smile at the thought of Dave fussing breakfast. "I just have to use the bathroom first."

Trish closed the door quietly behind her as she looked over the small bathroom. Even in here it still smelled of Dave. His cologne was sitting on the sink, and his razor was tossed carelessly on top of a fresh white towel. It was a man's bathroom. No frills and unneeded items.

Her throat closed up as she fought back a cry of despair. Did Randy and Stacy share a room? How long had it been going on? Were they together right now?

The thought made her close her eyes tightly against the vision that rose before her. Stacy looked like she had been enjoying herself. She sure as hell didn't struggle while he was kissing her.

A tear slid down her cheek as she balled her hands into fists. How long had she known Stacy? She had thought they were good friends. She had told her everything. They had laughed over all the diva search girls and had taken turns scaring them senseless with tales of Vince. They had mourned the loss of Molly Holly and Ivory, the greatest friends anyone could ever have and promised each other they would always keep in touch.

But what was going to happen now? She couldn't even think about Stacy without wanting to hit something. After everything Trish had told her about Randy. How could she do this?

Trish turned the faucet on full blast and splashed cold water on her face. She had to pull it together. There was no choice. They were taping a show tomorrow and she had to impress. She caught sight of her red nose and puffy eyes. A soft sob escaped her. Any other time she was feeling like this, she had never hesitated to call Stacy. Who was she going to call now?

Concentrating on keeping her sobs low, she didn't even hear the door open. Pressing her palms against her wet eyes, she bit her lip. A pair of strong hands turned her around and once again, she found herself in the comforting arms of Dave Batista.

Unable to restrain herself, she buried her face in his shirt and let her tears go. His arms tightened around her protectively.

"Shhh, cry all you want Trish. I'm here for you."

(X X X)

She couldn't sleep.

Her brown eyes stared at the white ceiling as if it held the answers to all her problems. She had turned off the light long ago, hoping to eventually drift off, but it hadn't been that easy. She had done every trick in the book. Had drunk a warm glass of milk, herbal tea, hell, she had even tried counting sheep. But it was impossible.

Stacy rolled to her side. She had tried to call Trish on her cell phone all day, but she hadn't answered. And why should she? Trish had every right in the world to be mad at her. After the fourth message she had left, she got up enough courage to go to Trish's hotel room, but she hadn't answered her door either.

Swallowing hard, Stacy lay on her back again, her eyes focused on the ceiling tiles. What was she going to say tomorrow? Did anyone else know? She wrung her hands as she thought of the hate everyone would look at her with. Didn't all of them say she was the smart one? The one who hadn't fallen for Randy? And here she was now. The worst of all of them because she knew what she was getting into. She knew she was hurting a friend. But she had done it anyways.

But it was just so hard to say no to him. Her mouth twisted in anger as she reprimanded herself for even thinking that. After all he had put her through, she still missed his touch. Stacy would never admit this to him, but the few minutes of pleasure he gave her still burned in her mind, clear as ever.

A painful anger rose in her throat, almost choking her. This was all his fault. Now she had lost a best friend because he had wanted some other slut to brag about. She could only imagine what Trish was thinking at this moment. Would she ever be able to forgive her?

Pushing the heavy covers aside, she made her way to the dark kitchen, not bothering to turn on a light. Maybe another glass of warm milk would do the trick.

(X X X)

"So here I am, shaving, right? And my mom comes in, an she starts screamin' at me. I'm like six though; I thought if I shaved I would grow a mustache and be grown up."

Christy giggled, reaching for another handful of popcorn. The movie played on the television, but they had stopped paying attention long ago.

"She starts panickin' cuz I cut myself a little, and she had the smart idea of putting alcohol on it." John winced, as if reliving the whole moment again. "I swear it felt like she lit my face on fire." He shook his head and reached into the previously full bowl. Finding only kernels left, he sighed. "Damn girl, this the second bowl you've finished."

Christy pouted, licking her salty fingers. "I'm hungry."

"I can see that." John reached to the low coffee table, and grabbed a carton of ice cream. "Want some?" Christy nodded eagerly as he lifted the lid. She opened her mouth obediently as he scooped up a small amount and headed for her mouth.

"Open wide for the choo-choo train."

Christy held the ice cream in her mouth, savoring the flavor. How he knew that cookies and cream was her favorite, she had no idea. But for the past few hours, John was giving her everything she could ever think of. He had rented 'chick flicks,' as he called them. Even though the guys at the video store had looked at him like he was 'queer.' He had brought a box of extra butter popcorn, which she had almost finished. He had even gotten her a get well soon card. Granted it was a picture of a monkey, but she thought it was cute nonetheless.

"I wanna thank you-"

"You don't have to," he interrupted, waving her off. "I'm actually having fun."

"Being my own personal servant is fun for you?"

"Yes ma'am."

Christy leaned back against the many pillows he had set up for her. "I think I'm in the mood for some fruit," she said, her voice teasing. "Maybe a little fruit salad? With yogurt on the side. Make sure the fruits are evenly proportioned too." She tried to hide a smile as she snapped her fingers at him.

John stood slowly, setting down the ice cream. "Fruit salad huh?"

Christy squealed as she felt a dollop of cool whipped cream land on her chest. John traced a big circle, his mouth twitching as he tried not to smile.

"Stop! You know I can't do anything to you!"

"Do ya want that fruit crap now?"

Christy huffed haughtily as she attempted to wipe the massive white blob off her chest with a tissue. But it was hopeless, it seemed he had let out all the can's contents on her.

"I can help you." Eyes gleaming mischievously, John leaned over to her and flicked his tongue over her chest. Christy giggled as she felt his tongue barely skim her.

"Tastes better than I thought," he remarked. He lowered his head again and Christy gasped as he licked her collarbone. She stayed as still as possible as he slowly licked her clean. She didn't want to risk moving her shoulder, but he was making it very hard.

"All done." He sat back down and grinned like a proud little schoolboy. Christy rolled her eyes, trying to look nonchalant.

"Good for you, what about my fruit salad?"

John's grin disappeared. "Aww, you were serious about that? I don't know how to make that fruity shit."

Christy sighed. "I guess you really don't care that much about me." She stroked her arm slowly, pretending to wince. His expression changed immediately and he shot up to make his way to the kitchen.

"Just toss a bunch of fruit together right? How hard can that be?" she heard him mumbling under his breath as he passed her.

Christy smirked. This was gonna be fun.

(X X X)

Stacy Keibler had always been able to deal with the events life tossed her way.

Through her parents many fights and screamed accusations, she had remained calm. Sure, she had grown much more quiet and withdrawn, but it was normal for her to react like that. When her best friend of seven years had died in a drunken car crash, she had put up a guardrail around her heart. But again, it was a normal reaction.

She had been able to deal with most of the hurdles placed in her path. She knew deep inside that as much as she tried to deny the divorce and the death, there was nothing she could do about it. So she hadn't tried. She had straightened her shoulders and took what was given to her with a determined look in her eyes.

Eyes that were now cast downward, hoping no one would notice her. She clutched her gym bag so tight, she was afraid she would cut off the circulation to her fingers. But she couldn't help herself. When Victoria had tapped her on the shoulder to say hello, she had almost jumped out of her skin. When she had bumped into Chris Jericho in the hallway, she didn't even take a moment to roll her eyes when he told her he was free for some all night lovin'.

Her shoulders were hunched over, as she hurried to the woman's locker room. She was itching to take a hot shower. She had taken one right before coming, but she still felt dirty. Her eyes had lost their luster; there was no reason to make them shine now.

She reached the locker room, but the door swung open before she could twist the knob.

"Hi."

Candice Michelle offered a simple greeting as she stepped aside to let Stacy through. Her outfit was already intact, as was her makeup and hair. She was going on in the beginning of the show, after all, and she had to look her best.

Stacy barely nodded as she brushed past her. She heard the door shut and dropped her belongings in her locker. Sitting down on the plush couch, she began clearing her throat nervously. Any second now, Trish would walk through that door. And she had prepared. She knew exactly what she was going to say. She ended up only getting four hours of sleep, and she had plenty of time.

Just as she decided she should take that shower before, the door swung open again.

"Damn I'm hungry!"

Lita let out a deep breath of air as she tossed her bag across the bench that ran right in front of the lockers. Her smile faded as she caught sight of Stacy, staring at her like she had been sent down from another planet.

"What's up, Stace?"

Stacy forced a tight smile as she shook her head. "Nothing, nothing."

Lita eyed her warily. She and the leggy blond hadn't been the best of friends in the beginning, but now she liked to think they were pretty close. "Why do you look like crap then?"

"I don't look like crap," Stacy mumbled. Two people had told her she liked bad in the past two days. This was great for her self-esteem. "Do you know where Trish is?"

"I think I saw her and Dave get here together. Why don't you try his locker room?"

Stacy nodded as she got up. So it looked like Trish hadn't told anyone; yet. She waved goodbye to Lita as she tried to figure out which way Dave's locker room was.

"Need help?"

Stacy whirled around so quickly she almost lost her balance. She put a hand to her beating heart, which felt like it was about to jump out of her chest.

"Hunter!" she stammered, nervous at the way his eyes swept her entire body.

"Somethin' wrong?"

Stacy let out a nervous laugh. "No, no of course not. I-I was just looking for Dave. Do you know where he is?"

His smirk immediately turned into a frown. "What's with all you chicks and Dave? I just saw him with Trish and now you're looking for him?"

Stacy swallowed uneasily. She hoped she hadn't sparked any fires in Hunter. It was a well-known fact he hated the very ground Dave walked on.

"So…you don't know where he is?"

"He was near the cafeteria last time I saw him," he grunted.

Stacy nodded as she walked past him. She could still feel his eyes on her back until she had rounded the corner, and she let out an involuntary shiver. She always had the feeling he was planning something. Like he was always trying to look for something incriminating.

Her steps slowed as she came to the cafeteria. She glanced over the empty room, a sigh of relief almost escaping her. As much as she wanted to get this over with, she still didn't want to actually do it.

Her eyes were drawn to a door on the left. Suddenly her breathing came a little quicker as her hands started twitching. She was in there. Somehow she knew Trish was in there. She pulled on the hem of her shirt for the hundredth time as she made her way over. That shirt must have been tugged to twice its size already.

She raised her hand to knock, but quickly snapped it back to her side. Hopelessness swelled inside her as she thought about what she had to do. Would Trish even want to talk to her? Trying hard to calm her nerves, she raised her hand again and knocked softly.

She heard voices inside, but she couldn't tell what they were saying. She bit her lip as she waited for someone to open the door. Were they doing this on purpose? She felt like she was going to throw up any minute now.

Stacy stepped back as the door opened.

"Stacy."

She cringed at the way he said her name. Dave looked bigger then she had ever remembered him. His suit was perfect as always, and his glasses hid his eyes, making him seem all the more formidable.

"Hey," Stacy finally said, embarrassed to find that her voice now resembled that of a five year old. She cleared her throat as she gestured inside. "Is Trish in there?"

Dave nodded, crossing his arms across his chest, faintly reminding Stacy of the bouncers at the clubs.

"Um… can I talk to her?"

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

Stacy felt like he had just punched the wind out of her. She had worked up the nerve to talk, and he wouldn't even let her come in!

"I really need to talk to her," she said meekly.

"You probably do," agreed Dave. "But I don't think right now is the best time."

Stacy closed her eyes for a second. "Dave, I really need to explain myself to Trish. I don't want to lose her friendship over this and I'm afraid if I wait any longer, I'll lose my nerve." Her words poured out before she could stop them.

Dave gave a slight nod. "None of this would have happened if you had just told her about you and Randy."

Stacy looked at him indignantly. "Me and Randy were never a couple if that's what you're implying," she said heatedly. "I want to do the right thing, but it's kinda hard when you're blocking the doorway."

"I don't think Trish wants to talk to you anyways."

Stacy clenched her teeth, trying hard not to scream. "If she doesn't want me to talk to her, then she can come out here and tell me."

"What do you want?"

All of the air seemed to evaporate out of Stacy's lungs as she heard a voice behind Dave. He stepped aside and Trish stood there, regarding Stacy like she had never seen her before in her life.

"Trish-"

"I'll be back in a second." Sending a small smile to Dave, she closed the door and crossed her arms across her chest just as Dave had done. "Talk."

"I'm so sorry!" burst out Stacy. "I never meant to hurt you, I mean, I didn't know you were there and-"

"What were you doing with him in that restaurant anyways?" interrupted Trish. "After you told me you just felt like going to sleep. Jeez, Stace, how many other times did you lie to me?"

"He wouldn't leave me alone!" cried Stacy. "He kept threatening to tell you and Greg that we… we slept together."

"Oh, yea," spat Trish sarcastically. "Finding out this way was so much better."

"I was going to tell him it was over, but then you walked in. I couldn't deal with him anymore." Stacy blinked back tears as she stared at Trish, hoping to see any trace of sympathy. But the smaller blond wouldn't meet her eyes.

"I thought we were friends, Stacy. I never thought you would do something like this to me," she said softly. "Why?"

"I was stupid. I didn't know what I was doing. I mean, the first time we did it, I felt horrible, I swore to myself I wouldn't do it again," Stacy paused as she took a deep breath. "I thought that was the end, but we kept bumping into each other, and he wouldn't let me forget it. He told me he would tell everyone if I didn't do what he wanted me to."

"So you kept sleeping with him?"

Stacy nodded. "I told him I would if he didn't tell anyone. I don't know what I was thinking, I was stupid, I see that now. And I wish I could take it all back." She looked at Trish, who had taken all this in without showing an ounce of emotion.

"I wish you could take it all back too," Trish murmured. They stayed silent for a long time, the only sound the soft whir of the vending machine.

"Can I talk to you later?" Trish finally asked. Stacy nodded, happy the look of anger had at least disappeared.

"I'm not saying this is all okay," said Trish. "But I really need some time alone to think about all this."

Without waiting for an answer, she walked back into the room and shut the door.

(X X X)

"I said grilled! There's a difference between grilled and crispy, didn't somebody teach you this?"

The young woman stared back at her with wide eyes.

"I-I'm so sorry ma'am. I'll just take this back."

Torrie sneered at her. "Can you bring the manager? Maybe he didn't train you enough because you're doing a terrible job." The young woman looked on the verge of tears as she all but sprinted to the back.

Giving a loud sigh of frustration, she looked down at her nails. She had just gotten them done, but she wasn't happy. That stupid woman had done her French manicure slightly off on her left pinkie and it was bothering the hell out of her.

"I like assertive women." She glanced up at the man across from her, almost forgetting he was even there. He was a new face, that much she remembered.

"I keep forgetting what your name is," she stated, still finding faults with her nails.

"Ken Kennedy," he repeated, not the least put off. On the contrary, this ice queen act was actually making her seem more attractive.

"Yea, well I hope you didn't come here in hopes of screwing around or something like that." She didn't even have time to register the look of disappointment on his face. He only chewed on his gum harder.

"I don't have a lot of time to chit chat," she declared, flicking her hair over her shoulder. She caught sight of a couple sitting close at a bar, exchanging kisses every now and then.

"Get a damn room," she muttered disdainfully. There was a reason for her bitter mood. John hadn't come home until two in the morning last night, and when she had tried to start something, he had told her he was too tired. Imagine that! John Cena too tired for sex. She had always complained to him how he was too horny, and here he was now, turning her down because he was tired. Yea right, he had probably gotten some ass before. Probably with that slut.

Torrie had insisted John not go, but he had insisted he should even harder. He owed it to Christy because she had taken a chair shot for him. Bullshit. She had probably done it to look a hero. But she wouldn't sit back and watch some broken armed bimbo take John from right under her nose.

Taking a sip of water, she regarded Kenny, or whatever his name was. He seemed like the perfect man for the job. He was new, eager to prove himself, and she had seen him staring at her like a dog in heat more than once. He looked like he could be easily manipulated, and that was exactly what she was counting on.

"Listen, you know me and John have been going out for about four months now. I have no plans on losing him to anyone any time soon, so this is where you come in." She lowered her voice, as if scared anyone would here her in the loud diner.

Ken willingly leaned in closer, smelling her perfume. Damn she was a bitch; and he loved it. She rested against her seat as she waited for him to say something. It was then that he realized she had just told him her whole plan, and he hadn't even been listening.

"Uh, could you tell me again?"

She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Did I hire a retard?"

"No, I just… couldn't hear you very well."

She leaned over again to tell him and he found himself struggling to listen instead of losing himself in her ample cleavage.

"Yea," he said stupidly, "whatever you want."

Torrie smirked as she saw the scared waitress coming back with what she guessed wasthe manager. This day wasn't turning out to be so bad after all.

(X X X)

Stacy wandered to the cafeteria, absently picking a sandwich which now sat untouched on the table in front of her. She forced herself to take a bite, but it felt like cardboard. Taking a deep gulp of water, she pushed the sandwich away.

Was that even an improvement? Sure, Trish had agreed to hear her side of the story, and she didn't seem as mad as before when she had explained everything. But could she really say everything was all right?

Stacy spun the water bottle on the table as she analyzed her previous conversation. Why had Trish needed time to think? Would she suddenly decided she never wanted to see Stacy again? Her stomach churned at the thought of losing another friend. And would Dave come into the picture at all? He would definitely be close to Trish. Especially now since she was so vulnerable. But would he help her case or advise Trish to never speak to her again?

She didn't think it was possible for such a nice, quiet guy like Dave to say nasty things about her. Then again, she didn't think it was possible for him to hurt a fly but he showed just how dangerous he could be when he set foot in the ring.

She stood and threw the sandwich away. She would eat something later, she promised herself. She had barely eaten anything these last few days, and she was already sure it showed.

"Hey babe."

Her lips twisted into a scowl as she heard his voice from behind her.

"What do you want?"

Randy only smirked as he shrugged carelessly. "Just wanted to say hi to my favorite fuck buddy."

"Hello and goodbye," spat Stacy walking away. She was stopped as he grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him.

"That's not a very nice way to greet a buddy," he reproached. He glanced at her loose shirt. "Been lettin' yourself go I see."

Stacy's previously dim eyes flashed as she shook his arm off with enough force to hurt herself.

"You know what? I don't give a flying fuck what you think I look like. I'm not here to try to impress you."

"Well if you're trying to impress someone else, I should tell you," he leaned close so she was able to feel his warmth. "I don't think he's gonna find you very attractive either."

Stacy pushed him away. Before he had a chance to protest, she brought her hand up. Her fingers closed into a tight fist as she threw her whole body into the punch. His eyes widened as he realized what she was going to do, but it was too late. The sound resounded through the empty hallway, and left Stacy with a satisfied feeling.

Until he turned to her.

"You little bitch," he snarled, practically foaming at the mouth. He brought his hand up to his cheek, which had turned a bright red by this point.

Stacy took a step back, but he only took her shoulders and slammed her back against the wall.

"I don't care who you think you are, but if you ever, and I mean ever, think about hitting me again, I swear, I will hurt you." His fingers pressed painfully against her as she tried not to look like scared. Her whole body was set to run, but he had pinned her to the wall.

She found her mouth opening of its own accord, and before she even had a chance to think about what she said, she heard the words slip out of her mouth.

"Fuck you."

His lips curled into a snarl as he suddenly closed the space between them. He pressed his lips against hers, but he wasn't trying to kiss her. No, he seemed intent on punishing her with his mouth.

His lips were pressed so hard against hers, Stacy struggled to breath. His tongue was shoved in her mouth, and his teeth were latched onto her bottom lip. She tasted the distinct flavor of blood from his less than gentle approach. She began to scream at him to get away, but the sounds were lost in his mouth.

All of a sudden, he was off her. Stacy heard a voice demand what was going on, but she was desperately trying to regain her breath. It wasn't until she picked up the slight accent that she looked up.

Greg stood, breathing heavily, his eyes boring into Randy. She had never seen him this mad. She could see that every muscle was tense, and he looked ready to lunge at Randy any second now.

"Greg," she called out breathlessly. Before anything could happen, she stepped in between the two men, not caring if she was in danger. All she knew was that she had to get Greg out of there; fast.

"Are you okay?"

Stacy nodded, fervently. "I'm fine-"

"She's more than fine," she heard Randy say. "She was fucking me three days ago, she should be pretty happy right now."

Stacy gritted her teeth as she turned around. "Shut up."

"Aren't you gonna tell him Stacy? Aren't you gonna tell everyone how we we've been having sex these last couple of weeks? Don't tell me you forgot about it." He smiled, and at that moment, Stacy would have liked nothing more than to knock him out.

"You slept with him?" Stacy turned back to Greg, who had such a deep look of hurt in his eyes, she wanted to cry.

"Its not like that," she said desperately. She reached for him but he only stepped back, shaking his head.

"Sorry I interrupted, just thought you were in trouble." He turned his back without saying another word and walked away.

Stacy watched his receding back with a growing lump in her throat. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. Everything that had happened. Trish finding out, and now Greg. A wrenching sob forced its way out of her throat as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Don't cry about this, he was gonna find out eventually." Her whole body snapped taut as she realized he was still behind her. She turned to him, fire blazing in her very soul.

"You're sick," she said with so much passion her whole body shook. "You're the worst piece of shit that ever walked this earth." Her fists were clenched at her side now, and he took a step back, cautious she would try to hit him. But she stood rooted to her spot.

She opened her mouth to say something, but a sob seemed to take over her entire body. She composed herself long enough to give him a glare. If looks could kill, Randy Orton would have been dead three times over.

"This is all fun and games to you," she screamed. "Well, I'm losing my friends for your sick amusement and I'm tired of it!" She took a deep breath, ready to walk away from him. She turned around to look him dead in the eye one last time.

"I hate you so much," she started, surprisingly calm. "If I never saw you again in my entire life, I'd die a happy woman."

Randy stood staring at her in shock as she walked away. She couldn't possibly mean that, could she?

After a few minutes, he shook his head, determined not to let her words get to him. He didn't care if he ever saw Stacy again in his life either.

Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he'd believe it.