"So this is it, huh?" Dean entered Sydney's apartment. He dropped off his stuff and made a beeline to the living room floor to ceiling windows that overlooked San Francisco. He glanced around the apartment and nodded. "It's not bad at all!"

Sydney always referred to her studio apartment as a hole in the wall because in her mind, that's about how big it was. She rented out a studio apartment near Market Street and Civic Center because it was the closest to Macy's without spending a small fortune. They entered the apartment through a short hallway that went through the kitchen and led to the living room and bathroom. The owner boasted the apartment was two stories but really, a small staircase (and it really was small; it only had ten steps on it) separated the tiny loft that contained Sydney's bed and closet from the rest of the apartment.

She could afford something bigger and something and not feel like she's residing in a closet each time she came home, as Sarah put it. Sydney knew her apartment wasn't her forever home and was content staying put where she was. It mainly to lay her head, shower, and feed her Netflix addiction. Wherever else she ended up would happen in due time.

Of course, a part of her wondered if the place she would permanently end up would be in Manhattan Beach in Dean's enormous home. He had so much space, even he wondered why he needed all of that room when it was just him. Sydney suddenly felt her ovaries break into a chorus of Going to the Chapel. "I'm glad you think so."

"Hey, I had to stay in some pretty unsavory places myself. I didn't just go from my parents' home to that home in L.A. just like that." He snapped his fingers. "I think my favorite – using that term very lightly, by the way – was the rundown motel I stayed in while at training camp."

"Ew," the neat freak in Sydney couldn't imagine, "how was that like?"

"The motel rented rooms by the hour," Dean blinked, "so that should tell you everything you need to know."

Sydney shuddered and immediately felt the need to disinfect her already clean apartment. "Gross."

"That's one way of saying it," he replied, "at least the prostitutes were friendly."

"And this is the part where you politely don't tell me the rest of the story," Sydney laughed.

Dean walked over to his girlfriend and wrapped his arms around her. "I'll keep you from the sordid details." He kissed her temple.

"Thank you." She fell back into his warm embrace and immediately felt like home. She had just seen her boyfriend not even two weeks before and it was way too long for her standards. They only started their long-distance relationship and she wondered when the other realistic 'This isn't going to work out' shoe was going to finally drop. She never did long-distance relationships and frankly, didn't believe in them.

It wasn't his money or celebrity that was a deterrent, though she was slowly adjusting to his popularity. She was afraid of falling headfirst in love, only to be stunned when the relationship abruptly ended, there was no was water in the pool. Her heart had a funny way of overpowering her brain when it wasn't conducive to a relationship.

"Show me your art work."

Dean's baritone interrupted her daydreaming and she led him to the dining room table where her MacBook was. She opened the computer and showed him her new blog titled, 'and you don't stop…' "I like the title," Dean approved, "very hip-hop of you."

"I guess I was a little influenced by you," she admitted.

"I'm flattered," he smiled again, "so show me what you got."

"Well, here are the different tabs. This was all Sarah, mind you." She clicked on the different tabs and slowly scrolled through them so he could get a good look. "Here are the black and whites. Here are the colors. Here the nudes. And here are my superheroes. They're the Superbad crew."

"After the movie?" He asked.

"After the James Brown song," she corrected. "I needed them to be powerful yet a bit funky."

"Got it." Dean scrolled back to the nudes. They were of male and female models. The art was more erotica than porn and very artistic. Dean was beyond impressed. "Syd, this is incredible. Why did you ever doubt your talent?"

"Because I'm stupid and compare myself to others," she woefully admitted.

"Well, you shouldn't." He turned her gaze towards him, "I mean that. You can't get better if you constantly compare yourself with others. You just can't. You need to be in your own race."

"Easier said than done," she shrugged.

"Hey, do you know how many times I get compared to Wayne Gretzky? I will never be able to fill his shoes no matter how hard I try."

"Who's Wayne Gretzky?"

"Um," Dean struggled to find a comparison that his girlfriend would know. She wasn't into designer things and materialistic nonsense like Renee, but she also didn't watch much sports. The idea struck him like a lightning bolt. "He's like the Basquiat of hockey."

"Oh really?" Her eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas morning.

"My point is," he pressed on, "I can only concentrate on being the best player I can be. I know there are other better players out there and I'm sure someone else is going to come along and break my records one day. I can't worry about that. I can only worry about each game when it happens. That's what you need to do. Just worry about Sydney and nothing else."

"You always seem to know what to say and how to say it," she softly shook her head in amazement, "you really need to become a motivational speaker."

"I told you I had years of stupidity behind me," he chuckled, "but let's do something fun and take a bit of edge off this seriousness here."

"Okay," Sydney shut down her computer, "what do you suggest?"

Dean stood up and peeled off his shirt. "I want you to draw me."

"We're glad you're able to meet with us on such short notice," Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley greeted Renee at the restaurant. She was the mastermind behind the Real Housewives franchise and was proud of introducing a world of cattiness, fake lifestyles to go along with the fake smiles and faker breasts to the universe.

"You know I'll do anything for my favorite producer in the whole wide world," Renee gave air kisses to Stephanie's husband and co-conspirator, Hunter. "So what's up?"

"Well, we're in the middle of negotiating contracts for the new season. Most of the cast has already re-signed and have their storylines for the season," Stephanie took a sip of water, "but we're kinda stuck with where you're going."

"Where I'm going?" Renee repeated. "I'm not going anywhere." She looked between the couple. "Am I…am I being fired?"

"No, no, no!" Stephanie shook her head. "You're our most popular cast member and we want you to stay. But we're struggling to find your own storyline. Is there anything major going on in your life?"

"Well, I have Hollywood offers," Renee mentioned. She'd been meeting with a few producers to have small parts in movies and TV shows.

"Besides that," Hunter chimed in, "no one cares that you're doing well. People want drama and a lot of it." He tapped his fingers on the table. "What about that hockey player?"

"Dean?" Renee replied. "What about him?"

"You're friends with him, right? Is there something going on there?" He asked.

"Well, no." It pained Renee to admit that much. "But I don't think he'll be interested in watching the show."

"Who said anything about watching?" Hunter laughed. "We want him on the show!"

"I don't understand."

"Renee, we saw the pictures. We saw how he carried you out the other night." Stephanie commented. "That wasn't just a platonic thing. That was a former lover helping you out. He's one of sports most popular players and you're one of the TV's most popular celebrities!"

"The stars are aligning, kiddo." Hunter agreed. "This is perfect for you both."

"A relationship with Dean means more airtime," Stephanie said in a sing-song voice, "more airtime means more opportunities."

"Opportunities meaning your own spinoff show," Hunter chimed in.

Renee already saw the dollar signs dancing like sugarplums in her head. "So what do I have to do?"

"Just ask Dean to see if he'll be interested. Tell him the benefits of being on the show. Convince people close to him that it'll be good for him." Stephanie advised.

"And what if he says no?" Renee asked. "Then what?"

"You'll still be on the show," Stephanie assured, "but in a smaller capacity."

"A smaller capacity?" Renee repeated. She didn't question what Stephanie meant. She wasn't quite fired but she definitely wasn't going to be on every episode. If her role shrank, it also meant good-bye to everything else. Her Hollywood auditions weren't not a guarantee.

"Just think about it," Hunter added, "are we ready to order now?"

"Yeah," Renee's appetite disappeared and she hadn't even had her first drink, "I could definitely eat something right about now."

Dean woke up after napping for a couple of hours. He laid on top of Sydney's bed and felt the cool breeze of the ceiling fan on his nude body. He rubbed his eyes and sat up to find Sydney gone. He then heard a noise from below and realized she was in the kitchen.

He got up and walked over to the drawing she made of him. In precise detail, she perfectly captured him. What would take an artist weeks or months to perfect, his girlfriend did it within a matter of hours. From the soft dimples in his cheeks to the light beard on his face, all the way down to his washboard abs and muscular legs, her detail was immaculate.

"It's not finished yet," she said as she climbed back up the stairs.

"It's perfect," Dean commented, "are you going to put it on the blog?"

"Um, no." Sydney chuckled and handed him bottled water. "I don't think that would be appropriate."

"Why not? I'm not ashamed of my body." He took a swig of water.

"Privacy, babe. I'm sure you don't want everyone to know about this," she countered as she studied the drawing. She had a few more tweaks to do but it was finished.

"Hey, you need to get your artwork out into the world. You need to let everyone know how wonderful you are. This is the perfect opportunity to do so." He set the water down. "Post it. You have my blessing."

"You know when I'll post this, this means things will change." Sydney warned. "People will probably know we're together."

"Good," Dean pressed his naked body against Sydney's fully clothed one. His erection nudged into her ass. He kissed her neck as his hands traveled up to her breasts and lightly squeezed them. "There won't be any confusion on who I'm with."

Heat coated Sydney's body and her heart slammed against the wall of her chest. She leaned against her boyfriend and let him undress her. He slowly opened the buttoned-down shirt before moving to undoing her jeans and pulling the zipper down. He slipped a hand inside her panties and played with her sex. "Say my name, Syd."

"Dean," she muttered.

"Say it," he played with her more.

"Dean." Her body moved in motion with his fingers.

"Say it," he demanded.

"Dean!" She cried as the orgasm washed over her and she buckled against him. He picked her up and laid her down on the bed. He stripped off her clothes and sheathed a condom on him before he entered her. They moved in frantic motion; tongues entangled, fingers interlocked as they became one yet again.

He lifted her up as he rested on his laurels, guiding her to ride him as he buried his face into her chest; licking her sweat and moaning her name. He promised to do all sorts of wicked things to her later that night, throughout the rest of the time he'll be there, and Sydney became more aroused with anticipation.

Her legs once again buckled as she climaxed; her body still and flushed with heat. Dean smiled and thrust a few more times before he joined her. They collapsed back on the bed, legs intertwined, and sweaty bodies.

"I love you, baby," Sydney finally spoke.

"I love you, too, baby girl." He kissed her.

Meanwhile, in Dean's duffel bag tucked away in a corner of Sydney's living room, his phone rang. Renee was calling.