It felt like a boulder was lifted off Dean's shoulders when he heard his girlfriend's voice – was she still his girlfriend? – over the phone. He briefly closed his eyes and relished in the seductive and sex-coated voice that reverberated on the other end. The fact she answered was a good sign. Now began the uphill battle. "Hey there," he purred, "can we talk for a minute?"
"Sure," Sydney nodded, "let's talk."
"I just wanted to say…" He stopped short upon realizing the coldness combined with a small slur coming from Sydney's voice. She was drunk. Great. He had to deal with a drunken Renee and now he had to deal with a drunken Sydney. His night just kept getting better. "…are you…are you drunk?"
"Get to the point, Ambrose."
"Wow, okay." Dean swallowed, feeling like he just got pulled over by the cops and he wondered what excuse he could give to get out of the ticket. "I'm going to call you back when you're sober and in a better mood."
"So you that can give you enough time to be balls-deep inside Easy Lay?"
Easy Lay? Easy Lay? It took Dean a brief moment to figure out Easy Lay meant Renee. He silently chuckled at his girlfriend's brilliant euphemism and he would have to keep that in mind when describing Renee later. His only priority was to put the blazing inferno out before it was too late. "Syd, let me explain. We didn't go out to dinner. She met me at the bar, proceeded to get drunk, and I took her home."
"I bet you did," she snorted.
"Her home," he emphasized. He then realized how bad it sounded and he silently cursed himself for being so loose with his tongue. "I'm downstairs in her condo while she's upstairs snoring. Nothing happened between us and nothing will." Dean was met with deafening silence. "Syd, are you still there, babe? Syd?"
"Yeah, I'm here," she quietly replied.
It felt like she was disappearing within his reach and he desperately tried to hold onto her. "It feels like you don't believe me."
"Dean," Sydney's raspy voice whispered into the phone, "I'm too drunk to talk about my emotions now."
"Okay," Dean conceded, "I'll call you in the morning. Good night, baby."
"Yeah, good-night." The line went dead.
Dean stared down at the black screen in his hand and sighed. Maybe in the morning, things would be better between him and Sydney and he could fully explain what happened. Then maybe, once he went up to San Francisco, they could have some incredible make-up sex and all of this would be just forgotten about.
Fuckin' A, Renee.
He wished he called a cab to pick up her drunk ass but the gentleman in him wouldn't allow it. Now his association with her was causing problems with Sydney and he already felt his fists curl up into tight little balls.
He picked up the keys to his car and headed home. Originally, he was going to spend the night just to make sure Renee slept well and check on her during the night. Dean knew, however, no matter how innocent his actions were, they weren't going to appear to be to Sydney.
With Renee, Dean never had to explain anything. He just did things and she accepted him as is. With Sydney, Dean felt he needed to be accountable for everything. It was something he wasn't used to and he didn't like the feeling of answering to anyone, who wasn't his coach.
He briefly wondered if this was a part of her personality he had to force himself to get used to.
Blinding light slapped Sydney's face and briefly shielded her eyes from the sun. She picked up her phone and barely made out the clock. 11:45 AM. She moaned in frustration as she slowly sat up on the sofa. She slowly bent over and made a silent prayer to God to please stop the Tommy Lee-esque pounding in her head so she could at least make it to the bathroom before vomiting.
Once the pounding ceased to a minimum, she stumbled down the hallway and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She looked, smelled, and felt like hell. Her eyes had a light film of crust on them, while her normally pressed hair looked like a misshapen Afro. And her morning breath, Sydney was convinced, would easily burn her eyebrows off.
She needed to shape up and ship out, as her grandfather used to say. She had family dinner with her parents and she needed to be over by four. It would give her enough time to get ready and forget all about Dean. He had a game later that day and he would be too busy to talk to her as he tried to get ready.
Memories of the night before began to creep back into her brain, appearing as small flashes before they disappeared again. A part of her was angry. A part of her was incredibly hurt. A big part of her felt stupid for getting wrapped up into a fantasy. Was Dean telling the truth? Who knew. He'd never lied to her up until this point and Sydney was hard-pressed to believe he would start now, especially with cameras on him.
She quickly rinsed off her face and studied the reflection in the mirror. "Can you really handle this, baby girl?" She asked aloud. "Your boyfriend is a celebrity athlete and you're just a Plain Jane working at Macy's. Can you really handle reading about him some thousand miles away while you're entertaining some lady with blue hair who wants to sample every single perfume you have?"
Sydney loudly sighed as she put her hair up in a loose bun before she brushed her teeth. She loved Dean Ambrose, the man. She loved watching Dean Ambrose, the incredible MVP hockey player. Dealing with Dean Ambrose the celebrity, however, was going to take a bit more time to get used to.