A/N: Once again, I'm sorry for the delay in the updating... school's almost done! Let me know what you think of this chapter!

Part 10
January 31, 2005
He was dying, he was sure of it. His head was one quick movement away from exploding. And it was his own damn fault. He knew he should have called it quits after that fifth beer.

Dave moaned, a painful grimace marring his features as he futilely attempted to move. This had to be the worst hangover he had ever experienced. He cracked open one of his eyes, only to clamp it shut again when the brightness blinded him. Damn sun.

He rolled slightly so that he was laying flat on his back. He placed his hands over his face, shielding his eyes from the excessive light seeping through his eyelids. He shifted his fingers upward and massaged his forehead, under the delusion that it might make the aching stop, or at least dull it.

A loud ringing blared in his ears. He couldn't even hear now. With a loud sigh, Dave tossed his arm to the side. His fingers brushed up against soft skin, and he sighed. Wait a minute.

His skin was definitely not that smooth. Without opening his eyes, he flattened his hand and ran the palm of it down the surface. Definitely not his. He was obviously not alone in the bed. An uneasy feeling turned his stomach, and it was not nausea. If there was a woman in bed with him, he slept with her. And at the moment, he had no clue in hell who she was. He couldn't even remember the party, much less who he left with. Hunter and Ric must have hooked him up with a rat before he left the club. Only problem with that was he didn't sleep with rats, no matter how intoxicated. He never had.

He cracked open the same eye again, letting go of the woman so that he could lift up the sheets covering his body. A small part of him thought he could be hallucinating. He was, after all, completely wasted the night before. Maybe the alcohol hadn't worn off. Sure enough, though, he was completely naked.

"Great," he muttered under his breath, as best as his dry mouth would allow.

He shut his eye again, laughing ruefully as he contemplated who it could be. It was almost a fun challenge for him in his handicapped state... like a little guessing game. It obviously wasn't Stacy or Molly... Victoria hadn't been on the road for the show... he couldn't imagine Kane letting Lita leave his side long enough...

All of a sudden, Dave's eyes shot open, his body springing to alertness. What if it was Trish? He knew she hadn't been at the party, but what if he had met her in the hotel lobby on the way back to his room? In a matter of seconds he had convinced himself that Trish was the one laying beside him, and he panicked. This broke his most cardinal rule: never have sex, especially drunken sex, with a friend.

He turned his head, his stomach growling, though at the moment the idea of food made him gag. When he faced her, his jaw dropped in shock.

"Oh, shit," he spoke to himself.

He very cautiously grabbed a lock of hair belonging to the woman, examining it closely. Red hair. Of all people, he didn't expect in the least bit to discover her in bed with him. Hell, he didn't know if he'd ever even personally spoken to her. He stared down at her, still in complete shock.

Christy Hemme?

Of all the women in the company, he had to choose the winner of the Raw Diva Search. Granted, Christy was a very attractive woman, which he made note of as he stared sleeping her form down... but she was one of the untouchables. Vince placed huge yield signs on a select group of the new divas, and Christy was certainly in the "hands off" category. He was dead if anyone found out.

Dave eyed Christy in silence, doing his best to calculate what was going on, and what he was going to do about it. He glanced around the room, searching for his clothes. A moment later he found them, carelessly balled up on the floor at the end of the bed.

Moving extremely cautiously - both to avoid waking Christy from her slumber and from aggravating his already pounding headache - he rose from the bed. He silently fumbled with his clothes, and once they were on, he bolted out the door. He couldn't believe he let this happen. A terrible feeling rose in his stomach, and he sighed. This was so unlike him. He didn't walk out on women. But at the moment, he had no clue what to do, nor did he know what her reaction would be...

He'd just have to deal with it later.


Hours later, after Raw had ended, Dave found himself in a small cafe with Trish. She always picked the obscure places. Then again, it was his idea to come to a place like this as opposed to the bar she originally suggested. He didn't want to have anything to do with alcohol for some time. He carefully sipped his coffee, wincing as the hot liquid burned his tongue. He placed the cup down on the table, eyeing the blonde woman across from him. An amused smile touched his lips as he watched her use her index finger to draw a picture in the sugar crystals she had spilled on the table.

"Something on your mind?" he inquired, studying her intently.

She usually only acted this way when she was deeply engulfed in another topic. Glancing up at him, Trish bit her lip.

"Just thinking," she said, as usual. "Have you decided what you're going to do yet?"

Dave sent her a blank stare, something he had grown accustomed to. For someone who was so candid with her statements towards everyone else, she was certainly very cryptic with him. When his gaze did not alter, Trish went on.

"I mean for your title shot," she explained. "Are you going to stay here and face Hunter? ...Or are you going to Smackdown to face JBL?"

Dave took note of the hopefulness in her eyes when she mentioned staying on Raw, and he sighed emphatically. He had lost track of how many times he had been asked that question in the past day alone. Smackdown's General Manager Teddy Long had already left him a voicemail trying to persuade him to jump ship. Eric Bischoff wasn't far behind in the negotiating, offering Batista a hefty bonus so that a Raw match could headline Wrestlemania 21.

"I really don't know, Trish," he concluded with a shrug. "My heart is here on raw, but sometimes... sometimes I just think I might be better off challenging Bradshaw on Smackdown."

Trish couldn't hide a disappointed frown. Once again, he was letting his loyalty to Evolution cloud his judgement. The Canadian diva opened her mouth to speak, but thoughtfully held her tongue. It really wasn't her place to say anything.

Dave cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Whatever, I have plenty of time to decide," he said. Procrastinating had apparently become one of his fortes.

The pair fell silent again, Dave watching as Trish went back to her sugar artwork. A soft smile curled his lips as he admired her, a strange sensation brewing in his stomach. He placed a hand over his abdomen in awe, wondering what this new, yet oddly comfortable feeling was.

He continued to watch her as her eyes scanned over the menu that was typed onto the paper placemat. His smile faded when a wistful look filled her eyes. She glanced up just long enough for Dave to toss her a questioning stare.

"It's nothing," she insisted, shaking her head. "Molly and I, we used to come here a lot."

Dave nodded, a pang of sympathy for the blonde as recalled her current situation.

"Did you talk to her?" he asked, hoping that Trish had taken his advice.

Her gaze slipped away, and she shook her head.

"I had every intention of doing so," she explained when he sent her a stern look. "Yet somehow I ended up out in the hallway yelling at Christian."

Dave's eyes visibly narrowed at the mention of Trish's former boyfriend. He wasn't quite sure how to react. He thought for sure that she would be fuming, but she actually seemed fairly calm.

"How come you didn't call me?" he asked her, reaching across the table for her hand. "I would have come back to the hotel..."

"It's not a big deal," she said with a shrug. It was almost as though she had come to grips with what had happened, and no longer felt the need to rant to Dave about it. "Not that I'm not angry, but at least I know that he's sincere about his feelings for her."

Dave raised an eyebrow. He hadn't known Christian to be sincere about much of anything. Whenever he involved himself with another person - especially a woman - he had an ulterior motive. In fact, Dave was quick to assume that the only reason Christian got involved with Trish in the first place was to get to Jericho. Even though he hadn't known Trish personally back then, he figured she was too blinded by her feelings for him to see the truth. A harsh, protective look hardened his features.

"He told you that?" he asked, a glare of disbelief in his eyes.

Trish gave him a nod, her gaze still far from his. She could hear the tone in his voice, and it almost made her smile. He was trying to protect her.

"I know what you're thinking, Dave," she spoke after a brief silence, "but don't. I saw it in his eyes... he really loves her. When he talks about her, his eyes light up like... like they used to when he talked about me."

She drew her wistful gaze back to him, and sighed. She was babbling again.

Dave squeezed her hand before releasing it, moving his hand up her arm.

"You'll be okay, Trish," he told her, offering a small smile.

Shaking her head swiftly, Trish snapped out of her daze. No more self pity.

"Oh, I know. I'm fine now," she replied, forcing a smile. Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, she decided it was time for a subject change. "So, how was the big bash Hunter threw for you?"

Dave's eyes shot open at the mention of the night before. He had almost been able to forget about his night... and his subsequent escapade with Christy Hemme. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to remain calm.

"It... it was okay," he stammered. "Nothing special."

Trish raised her brows, studying Dave curiously. He fidgeted nervously around his side of the booth. his face grew pale and he looked nauseaus.

"What's the matter with you?" she asked with a giggle. "What, a night with Triple H not as fun as you thought it'd be?"

Dave looked up at her, taking a quick gulp of his coffee as he suddenly felt parched. The light above their heads all of a sudden felt like it was shining directly on him. He could feel the moisture beginning to form a thin film of sweat on his forehead. What was the matter with him?

"Is it just me or did it get really hot in here?" he asked, fanning himself off.

He glanced around the room, his breathing still a bit uneven. He got this way when he was nervous... but what in hell was he nervous about? Trish was now eyeing him warily, and Dave could only imagine how crazy she must have thought he was acting.

"I'm getting kind of tired," he said suddenly, sending her a desperate look. "What do you say we get out of here?"

Though she was extremely confused, Trish gave him a tentative nod. As she rose from the booth, she noted how cautiously he stood from his seat. By the time they stepped into the parking lot, the silence had already become too much for her. She grabbed him by the forearm, coming to a halt.

"What's up with you?" she asked, worry flashing through her brown eyes. "I ask you about your party and then you start acting insane! Why are you so antsy all of a sudden? Did something happen?"

Dave simply stared at her. He doubted he could speak even if he had something decent to say. The feeling he had this morning when he woke up next to Christy had crept its way back into his stomach, only now he knew why. He couldn't understand it, but somehow sleeping with Christy made him feel as though he was betraying Trish.

No, no... this couldn't be right. Trish would understand; after all, she was only his friend...

Then why did a shiver jolt up his spine when she touched his arm?

He locked eyes with her, and his heart fluttered. The harsh look she was sending him had softened into one almost of concern. He offered her a weak smile, shrugging as he linked his arm with hers. He led her to his car, breathing deeply.

"I'm just not feeling well," he lied. "...maybe I'm coming down with something..."