Dressed in a giant white sweater that fell off her right shoulder and black tights, Isabella stood alone in the pasta aisle of the grocery store and thought about what kind of noodles she wanted to get. It seemed like such a stupid thing, being stumped by noodles, but she had spent the last week and a half keeping her mind preoccupied with every mundane thing. She was still angry about the nightclub visit a week and a half before. After the run-in with the obnoxious guy that Wade had almost laid out, Isabella left. Randy had promised her he would keep an eye on John, who had ended up absolutely smashed with Nikki Bella. Randy had told her everything the morning after, every painful detail. Isabella felt disgusted with him, and she worried about how he was going to be on the road.

He had been calling her and sending her text messages, but she wasn't answering them. She was busy, working on a big project for her music class and picking up double shifts left and right at Starbucks. Anything to keep her mind busy. But she was starting to find she was burning out. It felt like she hadn't slept in months. It was her first day off in ten days, and all she wanted to do was make a nice dinner. If only she could settle on a noodle!

She was well aware that she was moodier than usual, and she was sure it had to do with the fact that she wasn't sleeping. She found when she slept she was dreaming about Trey all the time. Isabella wanted to talk about it, but she knew her family was grieving. She had no desire to lay her baggage at their doorstep. It was obvious to her that John had other things going on, and she knew he was in recovery, so she didn't want to lay her stresses on him and put him in a bad spot again. Things were still frosty with Ruby, who thought she had been rude to just leave the club without saying anything. She accused Isabella of changing. Isabella wasn't sure she had changed, but she knew she wasn't the same as she used to be. For the past week and a half, she thought she was overreacting, but the more she thought of him getting angry at her in the parking lot for expressing her doubt, the more righteously angry she felt. She had been right.

Her phone rang. Without thinking, she answered it. "I'm at the store, Rube..."

"Hey. I was starting to think you were ignoring me."

Her shoulders slumped. She scanned all the noodles, from the fettuccine to the rigatoni, aggravated that she couldn't make a decision on noodles. "Hello, John," she greeted tightly. She decided not to waste her time on plain noodles. She walked over to the refrigerated area to look at the stuffed noodles, irritated to find she had choices between raviolis, tortellinis, cannelloni, and other noodles she didn't recognize. She wondered why nothing could be easy for her.

"You sound upset. Everything okay?"

"Fine."

"You're still pissed about the night out, aren't you?" he accused. She exhaled. There was no sense in lying about it, she knew, so she wasn't even going to try.

"If you can't figure out why I'm upset about that, then obviously there's a problem."

"Bella..."

"John, I'm at the store. I don't want to get into this right now." It was his turn to feel a little stung by her words, by the cold tone in her voice. He exhaled. Randy wasn't happy with him, either. He had made that clear to John the following morning, when he fell out of bed with Nikki Bella and a giant hangover. He'd had fun, though, and he thought that was all that mattered after everything he had been through. He had hoped his friends would be supportive of him getting back to normal. He didn't think they'd have this reaction with him.

"Fine, Bella. Stop by the house tomorrow and we'll talk."

"Can't. I'm pulling a double tomorrow."

"Bella..."

"I'm sorry, John. I have to work."

"Fine. I'll see you before I leave."

"Fine." She hung up and dropped her phone into her purse. She exhaled, agitated. Her co-worker Destiny was in Mexico for the next month. She offered to cover the shifts that needed to be covered, but it felt like her manager hadn't even tried to find other people to cover. It was extra money and a chance to keep busy, but Isabella was starting to find herself feeling fried. If only she could sleep.

"Penny for your thoughts, love?"

Isabella turned, surprised to see Wade Barrett standing beside her. He was dressed in dark grey jeans and one of his T-shirts. He had a shopping basket over his right arm. She was genuinely surprised to see him. The image of the WWE Champion doing a mundane thing like shopping caught her off-guard. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I live in the area, love. Most of us live in Florida," he told her. She nodded; she didn't know that. He studied her. He thought she looked exhausted. "You look lost."

"I am. I'm having something of a noodle crisis, if you can believe that."

"A noodle crisis? I don't think I've ever heard that one before," he chuckled. She nodded. There was a beat. "Are you all right? You look like you're ready to fall asleep in front of the pot roasts."

She made a sound. "I am. It's my first day off in ten days. My brain is turning to mush."

"Why are you working so much? You work at Starbucks, right?" She nodded, surprised that he had actually paid attention, let alone remembered something she had told him a week and a half ago.

"I have a co-worker in Mexico. She usually works afternoons. I've been trying to keep busy, so I offered to cover for her. So don't feel too sorry for me, I volunteered. But between that and school, I just haven't had a lot of time these days." She stared at the noodles. "God, I came over here because I thought the choices would be smaller." He laughed.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, love, how do you know John Cena?"

"He used to be a regular at work." She decided to omit all the unpleasantness, like him making a scene over the scone. "I just got to know him over that period of time."

"You two just mates?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Just friends. Sorry. My brain is a little slow." She settled on cheese and spinach stuffed ravioli. "How long have you been in the States for?"

"A couple years." They walked through the store, towards the sauce aisle.

"Do you ever miss it back home?"

"All the time. But I like what I'm doing," he told her.

"Well, you are the champion."

"That I am," he confirmed with a laugh. She stood in front of the sauces. Wade laughed. "Sauce crisis now, love?"

"It appears so," she told him with a laugh. It felt good to laugh. She couldn't remember the last time she had. Her phone vibrated. It was her text message. She opened it up. It was from John. Can we meet tonight? Promise I won't eat up too much of your time. She exhaled, typed in Fine. Will stop by when I'm done shopping, and sent it back to him. She dropped her phone in her purse.

"John?"

"Yeah. He wants to see me."

"He does. He's been worried about you the past week and a half," Wade told her. "You're ignoring him over the club thing, aren't you? That's what he was saying last week."

"I'm overreacting," she confessed, nodding confirmation. "I know I am so overreacting. In my defence, I've been through a lot with him. I guess I'm a little protective, and I know I'm not in the right state of mind to be articulate." She suddenly felt sheepish. "Sorry. I don't mean to vent."

"Don't worry about it. Obviously you need to talk."

"I just...it feels wrong talking to John about anything, because he has his own stuff to deal with and he's getting back to his old life, and my family is going through things, and I seem to be on my roommate's bad side more than I'm on her good side these days. I feel like I'm going insane." She settled on a Romano cheese sauce. Wade shot her a sympathetic smile. He followed her around the store.

"How are your parents doing since everything happened?"

"Not too good. They're in DC right now for the hearings. They wanted me to go, but I'd just get angrier. I don't think the hearings will solve anything. They never do."

"I'd say that you have a jaded outlook, but that seems to be the case over here, unfortunately." They ended up in the bread aisle, where she debated whether or not to get garlic bread. She decided on it and placed a loaf in her basket. "So what do you do for fun?"

"Fun?" she blinked. "Oh. I just work on my music."

"What kind do you play?"

"I like jazz and folk, but I'll listen and play just about anything. I just have to like it."

"Fair enough."

"Anyway, I should get this paid for and get to John's house. Get this over with."

"Don't be too hard on him, love."

"No promises. I guess I'll see you around. Thanks for letting me vent."

"Hey," he said to her as she went to walk away. She turned around. He appeared sheepish to her all of a sudden. "Look, if you aren't doing anything Thursday, would you like to go for a coffee? Probably not, since you work around it all the time...What am I thinking?"

"I'll take a look at my schedule for Thursday. I could use to get out more. Maybe I'll get your number so I can keep you posted?"

"Yeah, sure." He pulled his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and they exchanged numbers. "It was nice seeing you again, Bella."

"You, too. You know, I'm really sorry about the attitude I had..."

"Don't even worry about it. I know you're dealing with a lot, love. Have a good night." With that, he turned and disappeared down one of the aisles. Isabella went to the cashier to pay for her purchase. She grabbed herself a chocolate bar for dessert. As she waited, she sent John a text and let him know she would be there in the next ten minutes.

It was a short drive. The entire time, Isabella felt this sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. She didn't know why. Turning her music down, she turned into John's driveway, parking her car beside his Mustang. She got out, leaving her stuff in the backseat, and went up the steps. The front door was wide open.