Seven

Celeste smiled as she slowly came awake, feeling the hard muscles moving up and down softly under her head. Last night had seemed like a nightmare. Never in a million years did she think it would happen, but it did; Brock had hit her. He had left a nice purple bruise on the side of her face that no ice pack or concealer would cover.

She knew that she wasn't back in her hotel room; she wasn't stupid enough to return after something like that. She was with Mark. After everything she had said to him, after the way she had treated him the other day in her hotel room, slapping him for even insinuating that she was a doormat, he had been more than happy to take care of her in her hysterical state. The thought of that made her feel guilty. But it was Mark's firm, warm flesh that she felt under her head, and she kind of reveled in it. She wondered if it was a weird sense of hero worship she was feeling. It was his waist that her arm was draped around, not Brock's, and it felt good to her, even though nothing incredibly intimate happened between the two of them. And that thought scared her. She jolted up...she was pretty upset the night before. Did anything happen? She didn't remember much after she had curled into his arms, but she hoped she hadn't tried to seduce him, or had crossed the line with him.

Mark was still asleep. She contemplated leaving. It was five thirty in the morning and she could hear Paul banging on the door next door. Mark's hand wrapped around her arm and brought her back down. "Rest for now," he mumbled, his eyes remaining closed. They could hear Brock's voice muffled through the walls, in the hallway saying Celeste hadn't come back the night before and that he was worried about her. She felt a pang of guilt, and she even felt selfish. But she hadn't done anything wrong. He had.

Yeah, Celeste, you didn't do anything wrong...except for spend the night with another man, she thought to herself. It didn't matter if anything happened or not. She still woke up and enjoyed the feeling of Mark's skin pressed against hers. She wanted to sit up again, but Mark's arm wrapped firmly around her waist told her she wasn't moving.

"Celeste?"

"What?"

"Are you going to be okay?"

"I guess that's debatable," she replied, nestling her head against him. "Is it natural to feel like a slut for spending the night with you?"

"Ouch."

"You know what I mean." He chuckled.

"Nothing happened, so there's nothing to feel guilty about." He shook his head. "Sweetheart, you've got to get over this 'you're a slut for making any kind of human contact thing' you've got going on. You came here last night because you needed comfort. And if you ever need it again, don't ever hesitate to come to me. Are we clear on that?" She felt him nod against his chest. Her hair scraping against his stomach was sending signals all over his body, but he kept himself calm.

"I'm no good for you, Mark," she replied, her voice soft. "Brock is going to hurt you so bad when he finds out we've been hanging out...and this...Christ, never mind you, he'll kill me..."

"He's not going to kill you because he's not going to find out," he told her, sitting up. She sat up as well. He took her chin in his hands and moved her face. "Let me look at you..." Her cheek was purple. It had been a hell of a shot.

"Is it bad?" she asked.

"As opposed to good?" he asked. A small sound escaped her and she smiled. "You have a beautiful smile, Celeste. It's a damn shame we don't see it very much." She blushed; it had been so long since she had a compliment about anything.

There was a long silence. She felt small under Mark's gaze. He liked the way the pinkish blush made its way up her neck to her cheeks. Stop, Mark. This is Brock Lesnar's girlfriend. "What do you want to do?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Are you going to stay here, or are you going home?" he asked. She sighed.

"I don't think I can go home right now," she replied, gingerly touching her face. "If my mom sees this, she's going to freak." She sighed. "She's never liked Brock anyways."

"Why?"

"Brock got arrested when he was in OVW," Celeste confided with a sigh after a few minutes.

"What for?"

"They thought he had steroids in the car with him. It was just protein powder, but they arrested him nonetheless. Anyways, my mom took that as Brock is a steroid addict and told me I was lucky that I wasn't with him at the time, but not before going off on a tangeant about him having roid rage and beating on me..."

"She's right about that," he told her. "You could have been arrested too."

"I know. I've heard that one before a million times," she replied. "But it wasn't steroids."

"Then why did they pull him over?"

"I don't know," she confessed sheepishly. "Brock's never told me." She shook her head. "Brock doesn't tell me a lot of things a lot of the time, Mark." She fell silent for a second. "Can I confess something to you, Mark?"

"Sure. What's on your mind?"

"Truthfully...I don't think Brock loves me anymore." She could feel the tears pricking the back of her eyes. Mark's expression softened. "Since he's been brought up here, he just hasn't been interested in me anymore. We...we don't even make love as much as we used to..." a vibrant red blush crawled up her skin at the revelation. "And when we do...it's not like he cares about how I'm feeling..." She sighed. "Too much information, I know...but, we're hardly even communicating, so it's like... if we can't even get the sex right, then what's the point?" He felt terrible for her. "I've been with Brock for close to six years now, and it's like...if this is how it's going to be, is it even worth it?" She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Mark. I know you probably don't need to be hearing about my problems. Especially with Unforgiven coming up so quickly."

"Don't even think about it like that." He shrugged. "Everyone needs the chance to vent."

"I'm sorry I hit you the other day," she said softly, sheepishly. He chuckled.

"Don't even think about it," he replied. "I deserved it. I can be a real prick sometimes."

"I still like you."

"That's good to hear," he said with a smile. "If it's any consolation, I like you, too. Now, how about you wait here and I'll go get breakfast and from there we'll decide what you're going to do. Is that fine?" She nodded and he stood, standing still for a second.

"Mark?"

"I'm fine. Just some wear and tear." He straightened up and slid his shoes on. "I'll be back in five." She nodded and he left. She stood to her feet and began to pace around the room. She was in trouble. She definitely should have gone back to her room the night before. Brock was going to flip when she got back. Celeste didn't even know who she was going to say she was with. If Mark's name even crossed her lips she'd be in severe trouble. If not from Brock, from Paul Heyman.

The worst part was that she enjoyed being with Mark, even if she was just curled up in his arms. She felt terrible for hitting him two days before. He hadn't even hesitated to let her into his hotel room when she had knocked, trying to keep the sobs silent so Brock wouldn't hear. He had gone out the night before. She had heard it. Heard his door slam. Was he looking for her? Or had her accusation thrown him over the edge?

She didn't trust Brock anymore. And she was more or less afraid of him now, knowing that he wouldn't hesitate to put his hands on her. Would leaving be the right thing? He would still track her down on days off. Did she really want to leave Mark?

She shook her head. Mark probably had a girlfriend. He was just trying to do the right thing. Show her some pity. The thought made her angry.

The door opened and Mark came back in, with two cups of coffee and a paper bag. He placed them on the counter and examined the look on her face. "Celeste, you okay?"

She nodded with a sigh. "Just thinking."

"Well, let's get you fed before you think too much. You're fading away in front of me." She laughed and made her way over to him and gave him a hug. He was taken aback. "What's this for?"

"Thank you for putting up with me," she said sheepishly. "I really appreciate it."

"Think nothing of it," he told her. "You're a sweet girl. Now, let's deal with breakfast before it gets cold." She nodded and he handed her a coffee.