Chapter Fourteen

"I'm starting to think we could sleep through an interview and still answer the questions."

Dean chuckled at Roman's statement as they entered catering in search of coffee and food. Staff was in the process of switching to lunch, and he managed to grab a few pastries before they were taken out. Ignoring the disapproving look from Seth, he dropped into a seat at a table. Breakfast had been in the form of a bite here and a bite there and he was starving. He glanced to the plates of his compatriots, noted they were piled high with bacon, fruit, and that each had a bowl of oatmeal. With a grin, he bit into a donut, determined to enjoy every morsel.

"The chick at the last station was pretty cute," Seth said, picking up a chunk of melon.

"Which one?" Roman asked.

"The one in the pink sweater. With the—" Seth used both hands to illustrate large breasts.

"Oh yeah." Roman was nodding his head. "She was even cuter from behind, man."

"Guess you want a piece of that too?" Dean blurted, immediately regretting the outburst when Seth made a choking sound. Eyes on Roman, he reached around and pounded on Seth's back. He lifted one eyebrow as the man across from him continued to stare. Once Seth was breathing normally he dropped his hand and reached for his coffee. "Well?"

"Th'fuck's going on?" Seth asked.

"I just admired her looks. Doesn't mean I want to get with her." Roman shook his head. "You should know that."

"Who else does he want a piece of?" Seth looked from Dean to Roman, obviously confused. "Who else do you want a piece of?"

"Go on and tell him, man," Dean invited. Any other time, he would have enjoyed seeing the panic in his friend's face. It wasn't often that Roman was discombobulated. Ever calm, ever cool, every hair always in place. If he wasn't the best friend a guy could have, Dean would hate him.

Seth's head swiveled as though watching a tennis match. The confusion in his eyes slowly died away, and he began to nod with understanding. "Dude, what happened?"

"This fucker here wants a piece of Lizzie."

Seth mouthed 'Lizzie,' and gave Dean a quick smile. Then he shifted his attention to Roman. "Ro, man, you can't go around saying shit like that."

"What I meant was—" Roman shook his head. "You said you two aren't serious."

"We're not." Dean's foot bounced against the floor. Despite his lethargy, he felt keyed up. Ready to do something. And he needed – wanted – to see Elizabeth. He'd had time for a quick kiss before leaving for interviews. Their few calls had been rushed, and last he'd spoken to her she'd mentioned she was meeting up with Bray to go over their upcoming storyline. Aware of his friends looking at him, he scowled. "We're not," he insisted, reaching for his drink. "It's been, what, a couple weeks? Little early to be calling shit serious."

"The fact that she's married…" Seth trailed with a shrug. "Anyway, so Roman wants a piece. Not like he's bending her over a chair to do her while you watch."

"No, that's more his thing," Roman observed, nodding in Dean's direction.

"Nobody said you had to watch," Dean muttered.

"You watched them?" Seth's eyes widened, and he began to laugh. "Fucking hell, man! You actually watched? Shit, no wonder he wants a piece." He leaned forward. "Was it hot—"

"Shut the fuck up, Seth," Roman groaned. "And I don't want a piece of her."

Dean threw up his hands. "Then—"

"I want a piece of what y'all have. Y'know…" Clearly uncomfortable, Roman gave a shrug. "You say you're not serious. But man, I saw you with her. You were like a fucking kid on Christmas when she showed up last night. Just her being there made you switch from being a belligerent asshole to a happy guy. That's what I want. With someone else. Not with her."

Oh. Dean's shoulders slumped a bit in defeat, and even more when he remembered Roman's recent breakup. Muttering under his breath, he sat up and, throwing up one hand, conceded defeat. Still grumbling, he reached for his phone, fully prepared to call Elizabeth and inform her that he was a jackass. But, having insisted that the two of them weren't serious, he knew he couldn't call her in front of Seth and Roman. So he pretended to text, keeping the phone in his lap so they couldn't see that he was looking at the photo he'd taken of her in the snow.

It had only been a couple of weeks since their whatever-it-was started. He was hesitant to call it a relationship, considering the clusterfuck that was her husband. Fuck buddies seemed an insult. Because they did more than have sex. Over the weekend at his place, they'd watched movies.

Talked.

Laughed.

He'd even taught her how to scramble an egg without turning it into rubber.

So what were they? And why the fuck was he the one worrying about their status? If that wasn't the ultimate chick thing to do… Groaning, he shoved his phone into his pocket and finally met Roman's eyes across the table.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I was being an ass."

"Well, yeah." His friend grinned. "But I'm used to it."

Dean waited a few seconds, brow furrowing into a scowl. "Aren't you gonna apologize?"

"…For?"

"Using us as your own personal porn?" he prodded.

Roman snorted and picked up the last of his bacon. "Ain't no way I'm apologizing to you. To her, sure, but not you."

"Why not?"

"'Cause you're a fucking exhibitionist and I know you don't give a shit."

Dean's burst of laughter filled the room.

Elizabeth glanced at her watch, a sigh pulling from her lungs. She'd been waiting almost thirty minutes for John. Painfully aware of the dwindling amount of time before her flight left, she adjusted her stance and leaned against the wall in the corridor, eyes darting to the closed dressing room door. She refused to go in, certain that she would walk in on something she had no wish to see.

"Elizabeth. Just the person I wanted to see."

She immediately pushed away from the wall at the sound of Stephanie's voice. Though she and the slightly older woman had been thrown together professionally and casually over the years, Elizabeth always felt a touch of awe when in her presence. She tried her best to appear unaffected as she straightened her shoulders and assumed the proper posture. Even though Stephanie was smiling, there was honestly no telling what was on her mind. It could be something as inane as a wardrobe suggestion. Or the announcement that she was being taken off the road for the remainder of her contract. She'd seen it happen before. But she managed a smile.

"Are you headed out?" Stephanie had changed out of her on-air dress and heels. She managed to look like a boss though, despite jeans and a roomy sweatshirt. Her hair was in a low ponytail and Elizabeth noted that she was carrying an overnight bag.

"I—" Elizabeth broke off when the dressing room door opened. John leaned out, damp from a shower. He looked to Stephanie in surprise. "Yes," she answered firmly, taking the opportunity. "I have a flight to Hartford in two hours."

"So do I. Paul left earlier for Florida. You're headed there too," she said, looking to John. When he answered in the affirmative, she turned her attention on Elizabeth again. "Why don't we share a ride? We can talk a little business."

Elizabeth didn't miss the quick frown that pulled at John's lips. She was grateful for the invitation, and would have been despite the destruction that was her marriage. Smiling, she nodded. "Sure."

"I'll meet you outside." Stephanie waved goodbye to John and continued down the corridor.

Admiring the purposeful stride, as well as the take-charge attitude of her boss, Elizabeth looked to her husband. "I'm at Headquarters for the rest of the week. Network stuff. Then house shows down south."

"Yeah." He pushed the door open further and motioned for her to approach. She did, hesitantly, nose wrinkling at the aroma of vanilla-scented body wash. "See you Monday, babe."

She turned her head at the last second, skillfully avoiding his kiss. Muttering that Stephanie was waiting, she grabbed the handle of her suitcase and hurried away.

A gleaming black Town Car was idling just steps away from the exit. The driver, dressed in a black suit and wearing leather gloves, opened the rear door for her. Once she was inside with Stephanie, the door closed, enclosing her in warmth and a touch of luxury. Size-wise it was no comparison to John's bus, but she almost wished she were dressed to the nines instead of in her ratty jeans and oversized sweater. The muffled thump of the trunk closing broke the silence of the interior, and within moments they were on the way to the airport.

"Your backstage segment was very well done," Stephanie announced. She pushed her phone into her purse, a sign that her full attention was on the conversation. "I worried that it would seem campy, because a lot of them are, but you really looked frightened."

"I was," Elizabeth admitted. "They didn't tell me about the sounds, or about the lights going out. And I had no idea the mask would be right in front of my face when the lights came back on. The scream was very real."

"Good. Oh, not that they truly scared you, but that your reaction was realistic. You did well, Elizabeth. I'm looking forward to seeing how it all goes."

"Is it set in stone that I'll sabotage the match for John?"

"Right now it is." In the near-darkness Stephanie turned to look at her. "Are you okay with it?"

"Right now there's nothing I'd love better," Elizabeth blurted without thinking. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she mentally kicked herself, hoping against hope that the other woman hadn't understood the words. She chanced a glance over and saw the interest in Stephanie's expression. Her hand dropped to her lap, fingers twisting in the hem of her sweater. "I mean… From a kayfabe perspective that is…"

"Sometimes…" Stephanie sighed. "Sometimes it's hard to keep personal feelings out of the ring. I'm not going to pretend to know what's going on with you and John, but neither will I pretend that I'm not aware of what's being said. If you want me to stay out of it I will. Just know that I consider you a friend and I want you to feel the same."

"Stephanie…" She glanced out the window to gauge the distance to the airport. "I've realized that I've been living in a bubble when it comes to rumors and backstage whispers. But… Over the past few weeks my eyes have been opened about quite a few things. I don't know what the rumors are right now. I don't really care. I just want to my job, and I like to think that I'm pretty damn good at it."

"You are." Stephanie's hand found hers for a quick, gentle squeeze. "Can I offer some advice, though?"

"Of course you can."

"Talk to Travel tomorrow and request your own rental."

"My own rental?" That was it? Sage advice from the Billionaire Princess who'd seen and done it all?

"A little freedom is always a good thing, Elizabeth. You can choose your own pace, your own music…" Another quick squeeze to her hand. "Your own travel partner…"

An invisible fist slammed into Elizabeth's chest. Stephanie knew. Panicking, she hastened to explain herself. "We got caught in the snow. I almost had a damn wreck getting off the highway, and the only room we could find was in some hole-in-the-wall with no room service. We didn't—"

She cut off her words, not wanting to outright lie to the woman that could make her or break her. Grateful for the near-darkness, she rubbed her burning cheeks. She felt foolish for her outburst. It wasn't as though Stephanie had accused her of anything. And she was certain that none of the backstage rumors regarding herself and John even hinted at Dean being involved.

The bright lights of the airport kept her silent, and she was glad when Stephanie reached for her phone. Hers was tucked in her purse and she pulled it out, frowning when she saw she'd missed a call from Dean. Not that she would have or could have talked to him in front of Stephanie. Seeing that she had a new message, she brought it up.

U headed to the airport?

It had been sent just a few moments ago. Wondering if he had hung around to see her, she replied, telling him she and Stephanie were going out on the same flight. The Town Car eased around a cluster of taxis and she prepared herself for the flurry of activity that was preflight preparations.

I'm here. Flight leaves in 2. Coffee?

Maybe. I'll text you.

She thanked the driver when he set her suitcase next to her on the sidewalk. Stephanie shook the man's hand and thanked him, taking his card before picking up her bag. Together, the two women entered the airport. Elizabeth couldn't help the way her eyes danced around, wondering which flight Dean was leaving on. She didn't have a chance to peruse the departures board, wanting to keep up with Stephanie for some reason.

Once they'd gotten checked in and had passed through security, though, Stephanie mentioned having calls to make. Left with her carryon, Elizabeth took a moment to orientate herself with the layout before heading in the direction of the coffee shop. The few other restaurants were closed or in the process of closing, and when she caught the overwhelming aroma of garlic coming from one she hoped that whoever sat next to her on the plane hadn't eaten there.

A hand landed on her shoulder and she turned, aware of how her lips curved into a smile at the sight of him. The scent him – antibacterial soap, mint, cigarettes – overtook the garlic in the air and she unconsciously stepped closer, mumbling an apology when her carryon bag bumped into his leg.

"Where's Steph?" he asked, eyes darting around.

"She went to make some phone calls. Still want that coffee?" She was already reaching into her purse for her wallet.

"Lizzie—"

"Go find a place for us to sit. I've got it."

"You sure?" He took the carryon before it could bang against his leg again.

"Go," she insisted. Then, biting her lip, she glanced around. "Anyone else here?" she asked softly, knowing he would understand. She wasn't talking about the small but steady flow of people getting ready to leave, or the ones just coming in.

"Seth and Ro. And Stephanie, apparently. A lot of the guys already left for Florida. The Performance Center thing is Thursday, right?"

"You're not going to it?" She was surprised. Of the newer guys on the roster, she thought that he, Seth, and Roman would have been involved in showing the Performance Center off for the media. They were so well-liked by fans.

"We've got a thing to film for the Network. They're doing a look at our rise. How come you're not going?"

"Network stuff," she answered. Privately pleased to learn that she would be running into him at Headquarters, she smiled again. "Go. I'll get the coffee."

Somehow knowing that he would gravitate to his friends, she went ahead and ordered coffee for them as well. She wasn't sure what they liked, or that they even wanted anything. But good manners prevailed and she selected something safe for them, making sure to grab extra packets of sugar for Dean on her way out. She thought she caught a glimpse of Stephanie as she headed towards the waiting lounge. Catching sight of Seth, she chewed on her bottom lip upon seeing that Stephanie was talking to the three men. Then she saw Roman and her nervousness increased.

"She brought coffee," Seth announced with a bright smile. Taking his cup, he lifted it in appreciation.

"And sugar," Dean added, scooping the packets from her hand. "I told you she'd be a good travel buddy."

"Elizabeth agreed to share our ride for the house show circuit." Roman was looking at Stephanie while he accepted the cup.

"If she lasts longer than a day after you two gross her out with farts and burping contests, I'll pay her share," Seth decided with a snort.

"Beats listening to you go on and on about CrossFit for six hours straight." Dean glanced up from stirring his coffee. His smile was brief but full of warmth. "And hey, she lasted with me in the car during a snowstorm. If she can deal with that, she can handle you two morons."

"I'm beginning to think I'd be better off hitchhiking," Elizabeth muttered. Realizing that her only option was to take the empty seat next to Roman or sit outside of the group, she sat and reached for her coffee.

"With those legs, you wouldn't have any trouble – Jesus fuck!" Seth's pained wheeze seemed to echo across the entire airport. Left hand protecting his ribs, he sank down in his seat. "Sorry," he grunted in Elizabeth's direction. Then, turning to look to Stephanie, his cheeks colored slightly. "Sorry."

Stephanie took a sip from the bottle of water she held, not bothering to hide her smile. "Trust me, I've heard and said far worse."

Sipping her coffee as Seth and Dean began discussing their favorite colorful phrases, Elizabeth felt herself begin to relax. That was, until Roman shifted to face her.

"About this morning," he began, voice so low she had to lean in to hear him.

Had it only been that morning? It seemed a month had passed since. Yet, at the same time, it seemed only a few seconds had gone by. "What about it?" she asked softly, grateful that his massive shoulders blocked her view of the others.

"I'm sorry if my being there creeped you out. I was just—" He smiled. A charming, goofy smile that made him less intimidating. "It was wrong of me and I'm sorry. I don't want you thinking I'm some weirdo. It's not something I make a habit of."

"I don't," she assured. Thinking of what she had overheard before her shower, she dropped her gaze to the paper sleeve on her cup. "Can I ask you something?" She glanced up long enough to catch his nod, then glanced over his shoulder at the sound of Dean laughing. "What did you mean when you said you wanted—"

"You heard that?" he groaned. "Dean's already raked my ass across the coals… I didn't mean anything… You know… Sexual. I meant the spark you two have."

"Spark?" she repeated dumbly.

"Baby girl, a blind man could see that fire you've got brewing with him. You've had it for months now."

An impersonal, staccato voice announced that their flight was boarding. Stephanie rose, saying she would see them in Hartford. It wasn't until she had begun to walk away that Elizabeth realized they were boarding first class passengers. Grateful she had paid extra, she mumbled an apology and got to her feet. For now, at least, she could avoid that particular conversation. But the discerning look on Roman's face hinted that she wouldn't be able to avoid it for long.

"Thanks for the coffee," he said, the sentiment echoed by Seth, who barely glanced up from his phone.

It hadn't occurred to her that they weren't flying first class. Feeling as though she were flaunting wealth, she grabbed her carryon. "See you," she murmured, finally meeting Dean's gaze.

"Have a nice flight, Lizzie."

Keenly aware of other passengers that had begun milling towards the gate, she refrained from kissing him. Instead, she smiled and walked away. She boarded without issue, stowed her carryon above her seat, then tucked herself next to the window to wait. She didn't see Stephanie and was thankful that there would be no further knowing looks. She needed the few hours of the flight to get her head on straight. She had to figure out what she was going to do.

About John. About her career. About everything.

She heard the bustle of someone stowing their things overhead but didn't look up, instead focusing on the hypnotizing lights that flashed outside. A body fell into the seat next to hers, a steely shoulder bumped into hers, and a weary sigh filled the cabin. Torn from her reverie, she leaned away, shifting her head to apologize for being in the way.

Dean, grinning, wriggled in the seat, a piece of gum peeking between his teeth. "Fuckin' a, first class is comfortable."

"What are you doing up here?" she blurted, wincing at the insinuation that he didn't belong in first class.

"The stewardess chick at the gate is a fan. She upgraded us."

Thinking of all the perks she had enjoyed when traveling with John, who was recognized no matter where he went, she nodded in understanding. "Where are Roman and Seth?"

"Last I saw Roman, he was getting charmed by the cute stewardess. You know how it is with him. He flexes his biceps and panties around the world drop." He snorted, then laughed. "Gorgeous bastard."

Heart lightened by his presence, she laughed too. "And Seth?"

"He's charming Steph. Or at least trying to. He can be a cocky asshole now and then, but he still gets star struck around her and Trips." As he spoke, he wiggled out of his leather jacket. Stretching his legs out in front of him, he sighed. "And I'm luckiest of all, because for the next few hours, I get to charm you."

"You already have," she informed him. Unable to keep the smile away, she powered off her phone and shoved her purse under the seat in front of her.

"It's because I'm too damn adorable for my own good, isn't it?" he asked with a teasing grin. His fingers brushed the back of her hand, then his thumb hooked with hers. His expression turned serious and he murmured, "Missed you today."

"Missed you too," she whispered. She managed to buckle her seatbelt with one hand, then instinctively leaned close so her head rested on his shoulder.

Dean grunted in surprise, then lifted his arm to accommodate her. "You going to sleep?"

"No… Probably," she admitted with a small yawn.

"And snore?"

"Mmm… Maybe a little." She smiled when he draped his jacket over her like a blanket. Surrounded by his warmth and scent, she closed her eyes.

"And drool?"

"That's a possi—" She jerked her head up. "I don't drool."

"Oh, Lizzie," he laughed, tugging her back down. His lips bumped the top of her head as his hand squeezed hers. "Go to sleep. I'll wake you up before we land."

"Appreciated." She marveled at the peacefulness that filled her when she was near him. As though he radiated Valium. Within moments, he had brushed away all her tension and worries. Had made it possible to think of resting.

"Sweet dreams."

They always were now. Still, she nodded, murmured some sort of agreement.

"And you totally fucking drool," he whispered just before she fell asleep.