A/N: Yay! New chapter! And within a reasonable time period, no less! The semester's almost over; I will be SO GLAD when it's over, because I have already checked out mentally. Anyway, I was fussing over this chapter a lot, especially the end, so hopefully you'll enjoy it. Peace!

Thank you to Esha Napoleon, R Lucas Spitfire, miles89, Writinglove101, MagZ86, Baby Jayne, Jemima Flute, RatedRCouture, NikkiCandiOE, and Hailey Egan for reviewing the last chapter! You ROCK!

Chapter 6: I Hate Everything About You

Melina stormed into the hotel room, snapping on the overhead light. Pausing long enough to prop her suitcase against the wall, she moved across the small space, stopping at the window and pushing the sheer curtain aside. The only thing that greeted her was a spectacular view of the parking lot, but the paparazzi princess forced herself to gaze at it, her eyes moving slowly from car to car. It was boring, but better boring than dangerous; better to stare at nothing than acknowledge the confused jumble of emotions crowding her brain.

The Dominant Diva was in a bad mood, one that had gotten progressively worse over the last hour or so. She didn't have a migraine, not yet, but she could feel the first twinges of it just above her right eye, the full brunt of the imminent pain still hovering beyond the horizon. As a result, she'd been unusually quiet this evening, her opinions (for once) remaining unvoiced. Johnny hadn't said anything, but then again, she wouldn't have expected Johnny to say anything. The Intercontinental Champion was, for the most part, a sweet and dutiful boyfriend, and while he did try, sympathy and comforting had unfortunately always eluded him.

Besides, it wasn't as though Melina was particularly eager to share her thoughts with anybody, especially not her boyfriend. What was she supposed to tell him: that she was in a pissy mood because her mind (with the annoying monotony of a broken record) kept replaying a recent encounter with a certain Rainbow-Haired Warrior?

That when Jeff had grabbed her hand, it had felt as though someone had lit a fire beneath her skin? That when his eyes met hers, she had found herself struggling to breathe?

No way could she tell that to Nitro; she was having a hard enough time admitting it to herself.

Behind her, Nitro bounced onto the double bed, propping himself up on one elbow. With his other hand, he slid his sunglasses up on top of his head, his eyes immediately lighting on the slender form of his girlfriend. The Intercontinental Champion grinned. "Hey, Mel, what're you doing all the way over there by yourself?" He patted the empty expanse of bedspread next to him, a suggestive note creeping into his voice. "Come over here and join me."

Melina didn't reply, grateful that her turned back prevented Johnny from noticing that she was rolling her eyes. Jeff Hardy might have been the reason behind her foul mood—but Nitro was definitely one of its contributing factors. Somehow, in the last two hours, his confidence had returned, along with his usual swagger, and his demeanor had become downright chipper—bordering on obnoxious.

The paparazzi princess didn't understand why her boyfriend was in such high spirits. First, there had been the unwarranted Swanton Bomb, and then what had followed shortly after her…conversation… with Jeff Hardy…

Shane McMahon gestured at the pair of easy chairs arranged in front of his desk. "Have a seat,"

The Intercontinental Champion grudgingly obliged, holding a large bag of ice to his head with one hand and clutching his blue-and-gold title belt with the other. His handsome features were twisted in a sullen expression. Melina didn't sit, but instead hovered at Nitro's side, resting her hand protectively on his shoulder (the one not occupied by the Intercontinental Championship, that is.) The A-list pair eyed the elder McMahon sibling warily.

Shane's response was to raise his eyebrows, his mouth curling up into a wry smile. Leaning back a little in his cushioned executive's chair, he regarded the heel duo in front of him. "Relax, you two," he finally said after several painfully long seconds. "I'm not going to reprimand you or anything." At this, Nitro and Melina relaxed visibly. The Chairman's son continued. "With all the cheating that goes on in our business, chastising you for what happened tonight would be just wasting my breath."

Nitro heaved a sigh of relief. "Glad you feel that way, man," The Raw Superstar started to rise to his feet. "Now, if you'll excuse me—"

"I wasn't finished," All of a sudden, Shane's voice had gone steely, the amusement gone from his face as though it had never been there to begin with. Surprised, Nitro froze for a second or two, before sinking slowly back into his chair. Melina pressed her lips together in a thin line, swallowing hard. The elder McMahon sibling leaned forward, clasping his hands together on the desk. "See, I have no problem with cheating…so long as you don't get caught." His gaze slid from Nitro to Melina. "And I'm pretty sure that grabbing the referee's hand to stop the count qualifies as getting caught."

The Dominant Diva felt furious words spring to her lips, but bit them back. There was nothing she could say to counter Shane's accusation; if anything, she would just end up making the situation worse. Instead, Melina tightened her grip on Nitro's shoulder, the tips of her nails resting lightly against his skin, hoping that he would follow her lead and keep his mouth shut before he said anything stupid.

Unfortunately, the Intercontinental Champion didn't get the hint. "What're you saying—" Nitro blurted out, almost rising up again before Melina was able to regain control and push him back down.

Shane went on talking as though the Raw Superstar hadn't said anything. "Jeff Hardy stopped by just before I called you in here, and after hearing him out, I agree that he has a very strong case for a rematch." The Chairman's son focused his eyes on Nitro once again. "So, in two weeks, at Unforgiven, we're going to have Round Two. Jeff Hardy versus Johnny Nitro for the Intercontinental Title."

"That's not fair!" Nitro was on his feet before Melina could stop him, striding to the desk and leaning over it to glare at the elder McMahon sibling. "Jeff Hardy had his chance; why should he get another shot at MY title? Besides, didn't you see what he DID to me after the match? The guy's a psycho—"

"That may be true," Shane's voice was soft, but still held the unmistakable ring of authority. Nitro immediately snapped his mouth shut—his first wise move of the night. The Chairman's son went on. "But then again, maybe you should have thought about that before you went and got yourself disqualified." Shane rose to his feet, and even though a desk separated him and Nitro, the Intercontinental Champion still backed up a step. "Now, unless either of you has anything useful to add, this conversation is over."

Nitro opened his mouth to retort, perhaps thought better of it, and shut it instead, glowering at the elder McMahon sibling. "C'mon, Mel, let's go," he grumbled through gritted teeth, grabbing Melina's hand, and almost yanking her in the direction of the door.

The A-List couple was just about to exit when Shane spoke again. "Oh, and one more thing…" Both Nitro and Melina turned toward him, dislike clearly written across both of their faces. Shane met their gazes steadily, unfazed. "If you decide to pull the same trick you did tonight at Unforgiven…I have no problem with banning your girlfriend from ringside and restarting the match. Understand?"

Melina's temper flared, fiery anger ripping through her body. Without even pausing to remember who she was talking to, the paparazzi princess lunged toward Shane. "You son of a—" she spat, the epithet abruptly cut off as Johnny grabbed her arm, herding her out of the room. "This isn't over," the Intercontinental Champion added, tossing the comment distractedly over his shoulder as he shoved Melina back out into the hallway.

The Chairman's son watched their exit with evident amusement, a smile touching the corners of his mouth. Finally, after a few seconds had elapsed, he shook his head, chuckling softly, glancing back down to study the scripts strewn over his desk…

Nitro tilted his head to the side, studying the Dominant Diva. "Mel?" he ventured, his tone a little bit softer this time. Still no answer; it was as though Melina had forgotten he was even here. The Intercontinental Champion let out a sigh, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. The problem with Mel was that for all her sex appeal and charisma, there was this serious introspective facet to her that was considerably less exciting. It wasn't as though Nitro disapproved of it entirely—some of his girlfriend's best ideas had resulted from these periods of self-enforced silence—but he couldn't get over the fact that whenever Melina got like this, she was…well…boring.

Nitro knew that he shouldn't think this way—he was pretty sure that he loved Melina—but it was really hard to remember that on those days when his girlfriend slipped into one of her moods. And it wasn't helping matters that Melina had been lapsing back into this wet-blanket persona more and more over the past few weeks, ever since that whole Mick Foley incident.

For the briefest of moments, the Intercontinental Champion entertained the notion that Foley's termination and Melina's moodiness were somehow connected; that his girlfriend actually felt guilty for what she had done. But just as quickly, Nitro dismissed the idea. Mel had despised Foley just as much as he had. She hadn't gone through any great crisis of faith when she had ended his pathetic excuse for a career; if anything, she had been doing herself, Nitro, and the rest of the WWE a huge favor. Most likely, Melina was just strategizing; trying to determine their next move in the A-list pair's ongoing battle against Jeff Hardy.

The Intercontinental Champion's eyes narrowed. He'd known that piece of shit was going to be trouble, ever since he'd caught him sprawled on top of his girlfriend. And so far, Hardy had managed to prove him right; tonight's match had been one of the toughest bouts he'd fought since winning the Intercontinental Championship. And now, thanks to Shane McMahon (and in some small part, to Melina as well), their war would continue at Unforgiven in thirteen days. Nitro was grateful to his girlfriend for helping him, but he was also a little pissed at her; her interference may have saved his title, but had also resulted in this rematch.

The Raw Superstar shook his head abruptly, dispelling any negative thoughts. The match was almost two weeks away; there was no point in dwelling on it tonight. Besides, at Unforgiven, he would have Mel at ringside, and if there was one virtue that he loved about his girlfriend, it was that she was smart enough not to make the same mistake twice. Right now, the only things that mattered were that they were in Atlanta, he was still the Intercontinental Champion, and he and his smoking hot girlfriend were going to celebrate tonight.

Nitro slowly sat up, easing his body off the bed. "C'mon, Mel," he coaxed. "Don't tell me you're still pissed about what Shane-O-Mac told you," The Intercontinental Champion shrugged. "Don't worry about that guy—he's as crazy as his father, thanks to all that DX crap." He came up behind the paparazzi princess, still talking. "The only thing you need to be worried about is what sexy outfit you're going to wear to the club tonight—and then tonight, when we get back…" Nitro let his voice trail off, wrapping both arms around Melina's waist and pulling her back against him. He dipped his head down, his lips grazing the curve of her ear.

Instead of responding to his touch, however, the Dominant Diva stiffened, and when his lips touched her ear, she abruptly shoved him away from her. "Not tonight, Johnny—I have a headache."

Nitro stumbled back a step or two, shocked, his mouth hanging open. It took him a few moments to find his voice, and when he did, his words tumbled out in a surprised squeak. "A headache? What do you mean, you have a headache?"

Melina had resumed her original position in front of the window, her arms crossed over her ample chest. At Nitro's indignant comment, she let out a humorless bark of laughter. "I mean, Johnny, that my head hurts and I'm not in the mood for clubbing tonight."

Her terse selection of words was enough to stun the Intercontinental Champion back into near-incoherence. "You—you can't be serious!" he sputtered. "I mean, come on! We're in Hot-Lanta, for fuck's sake!" He moved toward her a pace, lowering his tone a little. "And in case you forgot—your boyfriend just retained his Intercontinental Championship!"

Thanks to ME!...Melina thought sourly, but didn't voice it. Instead, she whirled around, fixing Nitro with a furious glare. "I didn't forget…but as far as I'm concerned, both you and Hot-Lanta are going to have to get along without me tonight!"

The Intercontinental Champion stared at her for a heartbeat or two, his shocked countenance gradually giving way to a petulant frown. At this, Melina had to resist the urge to roll her eyes again. For all his talent and athletic ability, her boyfriend could sometimes be as stubbornly infuriating as a four-year-old. Nitro crossed his arms over his chest, clearly pouting by now. "What's wrong with you, Mel?" he said after a while. "You've been acting like it's your time of the month or something—"

At this, Melina's one remaining thread of self-restraint finally snapped, and her rage exploded outward. "Nothing is wrong with me!" she snapped. "Jesus, why is it so hard for you to understand that I just don't feel like partying tonight?"

"Not even with me?" Nitro retorted, taking a step toward her.

The words were out of Melina's mouth before she could think to check herself. "Especially not with you!" the Dominant Diva spat.

As soon as she said it, she knew it had been a mistake. Slowly, Melina's angry expression faded and she raised her hand to cover her mouth, as though by doing so, she could somehow take her words back. "Johnny, I'm sorry, I—" she began, reaching out tentatively to touch his arm.

"Don't bother," the Intercontinental Champion interrupted brusquely, jerking his arm free of her grasp. His expression was unreadable. He turned away from her, heading for the door. "I can take a hint. If you're going to be like that, fine. I can find a good time somewhere else, without you."

"Johnny, wait—" Melina tried to interject, but Nitro was already gone, slamming the door behind him. The paparazzi princess stared at the spot where he had stood for several long seconds before the corners of her mouth turned down and she wailed in frustration and annoyance. She frantically looked around for something to throw, but unfortunately, there was nothing handy. She settled for kicking the wall instead. That turned out to be another error, because as soon as her foot made contact, pain engulfed it, radiating all the way up to her knee. The Dominant Diva's enraged shriek became a yelp of agony, and she limped over to a nearby armchair, sinking down into it with effort and letting her breath out in an indignant huff.

Melina pouted, folding her arms over her chest again. What was wrong with her? She had known Johnny for a long time, and even though he occasionally got on her nerves, she had never really snapped at him like she had just now. Her headache must be worse than she thought. But even as she accepted this explanation, she knew there was more to her recent mood swings than she was willing to admit. Over the past few weeks, something had invaded her life; disrupting her otherwise perfect existence and making her question things she had always taken for granted.

It was all Jeff Hardy's fault, the paparazzi princess concluded. Ever since he had returned to the WWE, he had been nothing but a pain in her ass. And tonight…she had sought him out after the match intending to put him in his place, and somehow, he had turned the tables on her, flooring her with that terse comment of his.

The only thing you proved tonight is that you're nothing more than a golddigging bitch…

Melina scowled. What right did a washed-up nobody like Jeff Hardy have to judge her? He didn't know her, he didn't know or understand what she had gone through to be somebody in this company. The Charismatic Enigma had it easy; all he had done was show up and the powers-that-be had practically handed him a title match. Melina, on the other hand, constantly had to compete for face time with brainless Diva Search rejects. At least with Nitro, she was a presence, the girlfriend of the Intercontinental Champion, the paparazzi princess, the Dominant Diva. Jeff might have nothing but harsh words for her and Nitro, but all that trash talk hadn't won him the Intercontinental Championship tonight.

Besides, it wasn't as though the Rainbow-Haired Warrior's taste in women was any better, since he seemed enamored with that clueless airhead, Maria—

Melina halted in mid-thought, tensing a little in her chair. What the hell was she doing? Was she actually sitting here, stressing out over something that Jeff Hardy had said to her? The paparazzi princess had spent the last year and a half not giving a damn about what anyone else thought of her; when had the opinions of one purple-haired freak suddenly become important to her?

And as for Maria—Melina didn't like the little idiot to begin with, but for some reason, seeing her with Jeff had made her feel like she was going to throw up. And what bothered her even more than their relationship was the fact that she could almost identify the emotion that consumed her every time she thought about it. It was almost like…jealousy.

"That's ridiculous!" the Dominant Diva blurted out loud suddenly. She threw her arms out wide, looking around the empty room as though searching for affirmation. "Why do I care if he wants to date that bimbo?"

But even as she said it, Melina couldn't ignore the fact that she actually did care.

For some reason, she cared a lot.

Todd Grisham cleared his throat nervously, turning from the camera to the A-list couple just to his left. "Johnny Nitro," he began. "Later tonight, you face off in a six-person tag match as you team up with Randy Orton and the WWE Champion Edge and face off against John Cena, Carlito, and Jeff Hardy. How did you prepare for such a big match?" He extended his microphone toward Nitro, unconsciously tensing as though bracing himself for a punch.

Melina smirked silently, shooting an adoring glance up at her boyfriend before turning her attention back to the backstage reporter. She had nothing against Todd, other than the fact that he looked like Chicken Little and probably had never kissed a girl in his life. But somehow, he had this tendency to turn into Captain Obvious during his interviews. How did you prepare—what the hell kind of question was that? Why not ask a question about Nitro's Intercontinental Championship reign, or his upcoming match in six days against Jeff Hardy, or even how it felt to be performing in Madison Square Garden on the five-year-anniversary of 9/11?

Despite the excitement that she always possessed during a Raw broadcast, Melina could feel the emotional weight of this particular anniversary, as though it had permeated the walls of the Garden and was even now soaking into her pores. For that reason, she was finding it harder than usual to keep up her haughty façade. More than anything, she wanted to be by herself; to find some tucked-away little niche where she could let out her emotions in private.

But when you were the Dominant Diva, you unfortunately didn't get that luxury—not when you had a boyfriend to placate. Melina had spent the past week repairing the breach in her relationship with Johnny, a breach that she had created. Last Monday, Nitro hadn't come back to the hotel room until the following morning, and all of her queries about his evening had been met with noncommittal one-word responses. Panicked, Melina had spent the next six days fawning over him, rebuilding Nitro's ego while swallowing her own pride (and oftentimes, disgust) at how pathetic she was being. Tonight was the first night where her boyfriend seemed to be his usual confident, obedient self, and Melina was determined not to jeopardize that—certainly not for the sake of her own petty emotions.

But even as the paparazzi princess assured herself that everything had returned to normal, she couldn't ignore the nagging thought that a distance had grown between her and Nitro, one which could possibly never be bridged…

The voice of the Intercontinental Champion interrupted her thoughts. Nitro tugged down his designer sunglasses, fixing Todd with an appraising look as he spoke. "Let me tell you something, T," the Raw Superstar began. "When you look as good as Johnny Nitro, you're prepared for anything at anytime, but—" He paused for a moment. "Before I talk about the match, I want to talk about a comment that Jeff Hardy made about our press conference." The Intercontinental Champion's grin disappeared, and he went on. "Jeff Hardy said that watching Melina and I's press conference was like watching paint dry? Are you kidding me? Melina and I are the hottest things on TV—"

"That's right!" Melina interrupted, cutting her boyfriend off. She flipped a curl of hair back over her shoulder before continuing. "And if you wanna know how watching paint dry is like, look at Mick Foley!" As soon as the Hardcore Legend's name popped out of her mouth, Melina felt her stomach invert itself. Dizziness filled her head, turning the world around her into a carnival funhouse mirror, and it took everything the paparazzi princess had to continue on as if nothing was wrong. "Look at Mick Foley coming in week after week, yammering about stuff that happened, like, twelve years ago!" She eyed Todd with incredulous distaste, as though daring him to disagree with her. "That's boring! When I fired Mick Foley, I did everyone a favor!" She flicked her gaze back toward Nitro, expecting him to agree with her and change the subject. "Right, baby?"

"Yeah," Nitro replied, his face lighting up in a malicious grin. Melina felt her sneer falter at the edges, anxiety seizing her. Please, Johnny…she pleaded silently. Let it go… Regrettably, such was not to be the case with the Intercontinental Champion. Nitro eased his belt up higher on his shoulder, pushing his sunglasses on top of his head. He looked toward the camera, as though its lens was a direct conduit between him and the Hardcore Legend. "Hey, Mick, here's a tip: next time you have a crush, or whatever you want to call it, on a girl fifteen years younger than you, why don't you try talking about something other than starving children?"

Aw, Christ…Melina thought to herself. That had been too far. She could only hope that her feeling of mute horror was not actually showing on her face. Next to her, she heard Todd shuffle his feet uncomfortably. Unfortunately, Nitro seemed to be blissfully unaware that he had not only crossed the line, but with every passing second, was striding further and further away from it. The Intercontinental Champion went on, gesturing with both hands now, sarcasm oozing off his words. "I mean, come on! Ooh, I just got a call from my kid in the Philippines!"

Melina stood there, frozen, wondering frantically what she could do or say to salvage the situation. She had no way of knowing that she was about to be saved, though in the worst way possible and from the most unlikely of sources.

The Dominant Diva glanced back at Todd, noticing for the first time that the backstage reporter's attention was not on Nitro, or even on her, but on some third party in the far corner of the interview area. The Intercontinental Champion must have realized this as well, because his verbal berating of Mick Foley abruptly trailed off into silence. He glared at Todd. "What? What is it?"

The backstage reporter didn't answer, merely pointed to a spot beyond Nitro's right shoulder. Melina turned along with her boyfriend, her eyes widening when she spotted the familiar figure of Jeff Hardy a few feet behind them. The Rainbow-Haired Warrior's attention was not on them, however, but on a piece of canvas perched on an easel, its white surface smeared with formless squiggles of yellow and blue paint. Jeff stared at the canvas intently, occasionally nodding as though the painting was somehow talking and he was responding in kind.

For a moment, Melina was bewildered; then, all of a sudden, the thought came together in her mind.

As boring as watching paint dry…

The paparazzi princess's dark eyes narrowed, her lips drawing back from her teeth in a snarl. "Oh, you little—" she spat. She turned toward Nitro, intending to give him a shove, but the Intercontinental Champion was already striding forward, eying his future opponent with a mixture of disdain and anger. He glanced at the canvas, then at the Charismatic Enigma. "You think that's funny?" the Raw Superstar demanded, punctuating his remark with a hard shove.

Jeff stumbled back a step. He regarded his artwork for a second, before turning back toward Nitro. His mouth twitched in a smirk, and he nodded. "Yeah…"

Nitro's face twisted with hatred, and with one swift motion, he raised his foot and kicked the painting over. Both the easel and the canvas went flying, skittering out of sight behind the interview set curtain.

"That's right, baby!" Melina exclaimed, her voice almost swallowed by Jeff's indignant cry: "That's my painting, man!" The Rainbow-Haired Warrior shoved Nitro, considerably harder than Nitro had him, knocking the Intercontinental Champion onto the ground.

What happened next had to have lasted only seconds, but for Melina, everything seemed to occur in slow motion, stretching out into eternity. She gasped when Nitro hit the floor, his title belt falling off his shoulder and sliding out of reach. "Come on!" the Dominant Diva shrieked indignantly. She strode forward a few steps, though still remaining well out of the way of the ensuing fray. "Johnny, get him!"

All of her attention had been on Nitro; it wasn't until her boyfriend was back on his feet that she realized Jeff had not been motionless during all this. When she saw the tidal wave of yellow barreling toward them, she didn't even stop to think what it could be; she instinctively turned away, shielding her face with both hands. She heard a splashing sound, and then screamed in shock as something cold, wet, and viscous hit her in the side of the head. Melina tore her hands from her face, reaching back to ascertain what it was. Her fingers came back yellow.

The paparazzi princess stared at it, uncomprehending, until realization gradually dawned on her. Paint. The fucker had thrown paint on them. Melina whirled around, her eyes widening in disbelief when she saw her boyfriend. Nitro had taken the brunt of it; his entire face and chest was covered with paint. Despite her shock and ever-growing anger, the Dominant Diva couldn't hold back a surprised giggle. Johnny looked like a mutant version of Big Bird.

The Intercontinental Champion didn't hear her; he was too busy spitting out paint. "Are you kidding me?" Nitro yelled, his voice cracking with rage. "Are you kidding me?" His words turned into a strangled gargle as another wave of liquid (blue this time) hit him in the face. The self-proclaimed A-lister staggered backward, swiping at his face with both hands, trying to clear the thick substance from his eyes and mouth.

Jeff stormed after him, shooting both of his hands out and catching Nitro right in the chest, shoving him down. "Come on!" the Charismatic Enigma urged, his tone challenging. Nitro struggled to regain his footing, flailing blindly out in front of him with both hands. Upon seeing this, Melina's paralysis finally shattered and she dashed forward, hoping to subdue Johnny before he made even more of an idiot out of himself. As she reached her boyfriend's side, her high-heeled boots hit a pool of paint and her feet went right out from under her, sending her ungracefully onto her ass.

For a moment, Melina lay there, stunned, before she was able to collect herself and get back up. She crawled toward Johnny, scraping her knees on the concrete wrapping her arms around his chest and neck and holding him bodily back from Jeff, even though she doubted he could even see. "Baby, baby!" she cried. With one hand, she wiped at Nitro's face, trying to remove the paint from his eyes. "Baby, are you okay?"

Dumb question, there, Mel…the paparazzi princess chastised herself. He just got doused with paint; would YOU be okay?... She sensed eyes on her, and shot her head up, locking gazes with Jeff. The Rainbow-Haired Warrior stared down at her with obvious amusement, hands on hips. Without saying anything, he glanced from her to the helpless figure of Nitro, then back up at her. The smirk was back, that irritating nonchalant smirk she would have given anything to erase. He was speaking now; his voice was soft, but Melina still heard every word: "Looking good tonight, princess," Shoving both hands in his pockets, the Charismatic Enigma spun around on his heel, strolling out of the interview area and out of sight down the hallway.

Melina stared after him mutely. Her chest was heaving with every ragged breath she took. Slowly, she moved her gaze down to her boyfriend. The Intercontinental Champion had ceased his struggles, and now lay in her arms like a little boy seeking comfort, mewling softly in misery. Melina's dark eyes slid down even further, taking in her own appearance. Her cutoff red shirt and short pleated plaid skirt were stained with paint smears, probably ruined. In addition, her legs, arms, chest—basically, everything save her face—were covered with a combination of yellow and blue paint that was rapidly drying into a mottled muddy green.

The paparazzi princess sat very still, almost motionless, as two truths emerged and crystallized in her mind. The first was that Nitro's six-man tag match was up next, so barring divine intervention from God himself, the two of them would have no choice but to walk down the ramp, in Madison Square Garden, coated with paint.

The second was that she completely, totally, absolutely hated Jeff Hardy.

Balling her hands into fists, clenching hard enough to pierce her palms with her fingernails, the Dominant Diva screamed.

Off to the side, Todd Grisham started to approach her, thought better of it, and instead wisely tiptoed away.

Melina stormed down the hall, her boots clicking out a furious tattoo on the cement surface. Superstars who saw her coming quickly moved out of the way; those who didn't were met with a hard shove to the side. No one said anything, though. For once, everyone knew better than to mess with her.

It had been bad enough walking out to the ring. Cena and Carlito had practically wet themselves laughing when they saw the A-list couple; even Nitro's own teammates had had a hard time keeping a straight face. However, Melina had gritted her teeth and kept her emotions in check, even though doing so was nearly impossible.

But then it had gotten worse when Nitro lost the match for his team. Running into the ring to break up an F-U attempt on Edge, the Intercontinental Champion ended up taking an F-U of his own, before being forced to tap out to the STF-U.

Nitro had been pretty out of it on the way to the trainer's room, raving about how certain individuals were going to pay and using the F-bomb in various—and oftentimes creative—ways. Melina knew that once he regained his senses, it was going to take forever to calm him down, and so she left him in the capable hands of the trainer, with the promise that she would "take care of it."

Namely, she was going to find Jeff Hardy and rip his fucking balls off.

The paparazzi princess's eyes lit on a figure hurrying from the opposite direction; a guy wearing a lanyard and an air of nervous subservience that practically screamed "Intern". Her lips drew back from her teeth in a humorless smile, and she altered her course slightly, placing herself right in his path. The intern's swift stride faltered as he realized the danger he was in, but before he could turn around and run in the opposite direction, Melina was on him. The Dominant Diva grabbed him by his black t-shirt, throwing him bodily against the wall and glaring up at him. "Where's Jeff Hardy?" she growled.

The hapless intern shrank back, perhaps seeing his life pass before his eyes. "I-I-I think I saw him painting or something!" he stammered.

"Where?" Melina snarled, jamming her face into his.

The intern pointed off to his left, his arm shaking. "P-p-parking garage!" The paparazzi princess immediately released her grip and strode away, leaving the poor guy to sink down to the floor and seriously consider finding religion.

Melina didn't know how long it took her to reach the parking garage; all she knew was that as soon as she spotted rows and rows of cars, her vision finally cleared. The Dominant Diva walked on, her dark eyes scanning left and right, searching for any movement and finding none. She was beginning to think that the intern had just pulled "parking garage" out of his ass when her gaze fell on something familiar: a head of multihued hair just visible above the roof of a Honda Accord.

The paparazzi princess cut through a row of cars, ducking behind the automobiles until she was directly behind the Charismatic Enigma. Melina slowly moved forward, walking carefully on the balls of her feet so that the click of her high heels wouldn't give her away. Jeff was indeed painting; a large canvas was propped against the wall in front of him, with several cans of paint spread out around him. The Rainbow-Haired Warrior was studying the white surface in front of him, a large brush in one hand.

Melina halted. She was only a few feet from Jeff, but he had yet to acknowledge her presence. Most likely, he was too lost in thought, too caught-up in his stupid artwork to notice the furious Diva right behind him. How typical. Just like everyone else, he would soon understand how dangerous it was to underestimate Melina Perez.

The Dominant Diva looked down. Just beside her right foot was a can of green paint. Melina knelt down, closing her fingers around the slender handle and lifting it up. It was heavy, heavier than she had anticipated, but that didn't matter. She didn't need to throw it very far. Putting her other hand on the base of the can, Melina pulled back and with all her strength, hurled its contents toward the gleaming white canvas.

Her aim was a little off; only about half of the paint actually hit the canvas. The rest splashed onto Jeff, turning the lower right side of his body a vivid emerald. The Charismatic Enigma jumped in surprise. "What the fuck—" he exclaimed. He spun around, his eyes immediately locking on Melina. "You—"

That was all he got out before the paparazzi princess threw a second can at him. This time her aim was a little better; the paint hit Jeff in the chest, dripping down to his waist, soaking his shirt.

Melina let the empty can slip from her fingers, barely hearing the metallic CLANG it made when it connected with the floor. She was too busy admiring her handiwork. The Dominant Diva cocked her head to the side, studying the Rainbow-Haired Warrior. "How does it feel, Jeff?" she asked, her voice bright and malicious. "How does it fe—"

Faster than she could see, Jeff stooped down and in one fluid motion, picked up a paint can of his own, dousing her with its contents. This time, Melina didn't even have time to turn away. The waterfall of purple paint hit her in the chest, splashing up onto her face. Purple liquid went up her nose, in her mouth. She had managed to close her eyes at the last second, though, so at least her sight had been spared. The paparazzi princess coughed and spat, pawing at her face with both hands. There was paint in her hair; she could feel it trickling down her back in cold slimy rivulets.

After several long seconds of discomfort and disorientation, she finally cleared away enough of the paint to cautiously open her eyes. As soon as she did so, the first thing she saw was Jeff, still holding the empty paint can and smirking at her. The Charismatic Enigma burst into laughter, letting go of the can. Melina could only stare back at him, growing angrier by the second, but helpless to do anything about it.

Jeff bent over, putting his hands on his knees, as he tried to regain control of himself. "You should—you should—see yourself right now, princess," he managed to gasp out.

Melina blinked once, twice, and suddenly felt her self-control give way. Curling her fingers into claws, she lunged toward the Rainbow-Haired Warrior, shrieking wordlessly. Jeff's smile vanished, and he quickly straightened up, grabbing her wrists before her fingernails could connect with his face.

Melina struggled to free herself, even though Jeff's grip was as hard and unbreakable as iron. Red had clamped down over her vision, turning everything around her the hue of blood, and she became aware that she was talking, spitting out three words over and over in a ceaseless mantra:

I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you…

Jeff soon realized that he was not going to subdue Melina without the use of some immovable force. Swinging the raging Diva around, he pushed her back until her back connected with the cinderblock wall. Still holding fast to her wrists, he lifted her hands up, pinning them to the wall on either side of her head. Without thinking—how could he think with all that shrieking going on?—he stuck his face into hers. "Calm down!" Jeff bellowed. "Would you just fucking calm down?"

Amazingly, his directive worked; the Dominant Diva fell silent. Jeff stared at her, intending to ask her what the hell her problem was, why she had attacked him, intending to ask her any number of things—but found that he couldn't. He was too captivated by her eyes, those dark brown irises full of fire and rage and hatred. And as he stood there, at a loss for words, he saw all that anger and loathing drain out of her expression, replaced by a look of confusion and longing that he completely understood.

Because he was feeling it, too.

For the first time, Jeff became aware of their close proximity. Another step, and he could pin her against this wall, molding his body against hers. He released her wrists, and Melina slowly let her hands drop down to her sides, but she made no move to ease away from him. It was as though she was as entangled in this moment as he was.

Jeff studied her face, his eyes sweeping over its delicate planes and curves. Even at her worst, she was beautiful, and right now, in this moment of unexpected bewilderment (despite being covered with purple paint) she was absolutely gorgeous. He was so close that he could smell the faint aroma rising off her skin, even under all that paint. His gaze slid down to her lips, and he found he couldn't tear his eyes away from them. They were so full, so soft…

Without really understanding what he was doing, the Rainbow-Haired Warrior brought his hand up, his fingers grazing her cheek. Melina stiffened slightly, a low gasp escaping her throat. Her skin was warm; it was practically burning his fingers, but Jeff didn't pull away. He ran his fingertips along the edge of her jaw, then with his thumb, he gently caressed her lower lip.

The Charismatic Enigma never said a word, but inside, his thoughts were in a maelstrom. Push me away!...his mind screamed. Tell me to stop, tell me to go to hell, tell me that you hate me—just tell ANYTHING because I shouldn't be doing this! I shouldn't be falling right now…not for you! Please don't let me fall for you…

Being in love was like hitting that Swanton…when you fell, you FELL…

And in that instant, Jeff Hardy fell.

The younger Hardy brother moved a little closer, dipping his head down, his mouth grazing hers—and then tensed, emitting a stifled grunt of pain as Melina's knee collided with his testicles. Jeff stumbled back, clutching himself with both hands, before tumbling onto the floor, involuntarily curling up into the fetal position.

Melina pushed herself off the wall, walking over to where the Charismatic Enigma lay. She regarded him for a second or two, her expression emotionless, before lifting up her booted foot to add an exclamation point to her statement in the area of his kidneys.

But before she could do so, she stopped. Slowly, she returned her stiletto-heeled shoe to the ground, and without saying anything, abruptly stormed away.

Jeff listened to the sound of her footsteps, listened until they died away into nothingness. With obvious effort, he rolled over onto his back, trying to ignore the blinding pain in the most vulnerable of areas. He blinked, squinting his eyes against the blinding fluorescent lights above him.

"That was stupid…" he remarked to no one in particular.