A/N: NEW CHAPTER! Sorry about the wait; I hit a bad patch, and didn't want to write, and then I had writer's block....you know how it goes. But I have a LOT of time brainstorming, so (fingers crossed!) hopefully, I'll be getting some new chapters out there.

Thank you to RatedRCouture, AidynMarie, cherrycokerocks, AshlynnxHearts, wwechick24, andmiles89 for reviewing the last chapter! Also I want to thank D Torres and Oomph Kiddo for reviewing Chapter 2. (The dumb site thought I was writing an email address, so your names didn't show up) Thank you, thank you, thank you! You are all VERY awesome!

Chapter 4: Never Be Friends

Jeff leaned back against the rear bumper of his rental car, headphones jammed into his ears. Loud rock music was blaring in his head, but the Rainbow-Haired Warrior wasn't aware of the name of the song or even who the artist was. All he could think about was his recent victory over Randy Orton—his first real victory since returning to the WWE.

Jeff closed his eyes, unable to keep the grin off his face. When he'd hit the Twist of Fate, and then climbed up the turnbuckle for the Swanton, surrounding by cheering fans…it was like he'd never left the WWE. He wasn't sure which part of the bout he'd enjoyed more—the sensation of falling as he dove toward the mat, or merely getting the opportunity to wipe that arrogant smirk off of the self-proclaimed "Legend Killer's" face. As soon as the referee had raised his arm in victory, Jeff could already feel the weight of the Intercontinental Championship title belt on his shoulder.

The Charismatic Enigma knew that he should slow down and think realistically—he still had two more matches against Orton, plus the real deal on Monday night—but he couldn't help it. It had been so long since he had held championship gold, and it had been so easy beating the Legend Killer—easier than he would have thought. Pretty soon, it wouldn't be Orton he would be facing in a wrestling ring, but a fur coat-wearing prick by the name of Johnny Nitro…

At the thought of the Intercontinental Champion, the Rainbow-Haired Warrior's confident grin faded. His lean frame ached, which was normal—after all the abuse he had put his body through over the years, pain had become a constant companion—but in the midst of the normal twinges and bruises, he felt he could still detect the precise spot where Nitro's wrestling boot had connected with his abdomen.

The corner of Jeff's mouth twitched in distaste. "Asshole," he muttered. He'd known instinctively that he and Johnny Nitro were not going to get along, and the pretty-boy had managed to prove him right. Beating Randy Orton tonight had been great, but taking away Nitro's title…that would be even better. That'll knock him down a peg…the Charismatic Enigma thought with satisfaction. Him and that banshee he calls a girlfriend…

Jeff remembered the haughty glare on Melina's face; how her dark eyes had practically been shooting sparks in his direction. And that voice…Jesus Christ, talk about a sound that could shatter glass! She and Nitro deserved each other, and as far as Jeff was concerned, he was pretty sure that he would be perfectly happy if he never saw her again.

Pretty sure...

Except…

Why, despite all her badmouthing, had she stopped Nitro from beating him up? Why, while they were both on the floor, in the most compromising position imaginable, hadn't she pushed him off or kneed him in the balls or something? And why hadn't he moved off her, either? Despite himself, Jeff found himself thinking of the transitory tenderness in Melina's expression; how—just for that one brief moment—he had glimpsed something in her that was beautiful and good—

The Rainbow-Haired Warrior shook his head briskly, the ear buds almost falling out of his ears in the process. He still barely knew Melina—and what he did know about her, he didn't like. Every time he had encountered her, she had left him either pissed-off or on the floor in pain. And as for whatever good he had glimpsed in her—that look of tenderness had been directed at Nitro, not him. The moment those brown eyes had swung to him, that beautiful countenance had twisted into something ugly and spiteful.

Remember Mick Foley…Jeff told himself. He thought he saw something good in her…and look where it got him… Maria had filled him in on the details of the Hardcore Legend's termination—and how the paparazzi princess had contributed to his downfall. Jeff had hit some pretty low points in his career, but he was thankful that membership in the Kiss My Ass Club, courtesy of a Diva, was not one of them.

I guess that's what happens when you risk everything for a girl…the Charismatic Enigma mused. But that wasn't him, was it? There was no way that Jeff would risk everything for a girl—especially one that he hated.

The light touch on his arm startled him, and Jeff's eyes flew open. He looked over sharply, relaxing when he saw that it was only Maria. The Rainbow-Haired Warrior removed the ear buds from his ears, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry," he apologized. "Didn't hear you come up."

The backstage reporter glanced down at the ear buds in his hands. Even through the headphones, the music was still loud enough to intrude on their conversation. "I'm not surprised," she replied, but there was no sarcasm in her tone.

Jeff quickly shoved the ear buds into his pocket, muffling the sound. As he did so, he took the time to study Maria out of the corner of his eye. The Raw Diva had changed from her on-camera apparel into jeans and a graphic t-shirt. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her face had been scrubbed clean of makeup. She looked totally different from the backstage reporter who had approached him in the hallway earlier, but that didn't make her any less endearing to Jeff—or any less adorable. She was like a real human being now, and less like a living Barbie doll.

Maria looked back up at him. "I wanted to ask you…" She hesitated for a second. "Do you want to…grab some dinner with me?" Before Jeff even had a chance to mull the idea over, she rushed onward, holding up her hands as though protesting her innocence. "Strictly platonic, I swear! It's not a date, I'm not fishing for a boyfriend or anything like that…it's just—"

"I'd love to," Jeff interjected quietly. Maria was so surprised that she stopped speaking in mid-sentence, her mouth still hanging open. After a few long moments, she snapped it closed, smiling just as awkwardly as Jeff had.

"Awesome!" she exclaimed brightly, blinking her big eyes. The Raw Diva glanced behind her, and then back at him. "I'm just going to put my stuff in my car…and then I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay," Jeff agreed. He patted the trunk of the car. "I'll still be right here."

Maria opened her mouth to add something else, apparently thought better of it, and instead bobbed her head in a quick nod. Turning around, she moved with small precise steps across the parking garage. Jeff watched her departure with more than a little appreciation. He might not have been looking for a girlfriend, but he was still a guy. He and Maria hadn't really been flirting, but the capacity to do so was there; an initial physical attraction lingering just below the surface.

And if there was, so what? In the short time that he had known Maria Kanellis, he had found her to be sweet, funny, and generally cool to be around. What would be so wrong with their newfound friendship eventually leading to something more?

As the Charismatic Enigma pondered these notions, another idea flitted through his mind; one which was quickly suppressed by his subconscious, tucked away until future events would force it back to the surface.

When he had felt that light touch on his arm and turned to see Maria standing next to him…why, in that brief moment of recognition, had he wished that she was someone else?

Nitro eased his title belt up onto his shoulder, smirking at the sea of faces before him. With his other, he first adjusted his designer sunglasses, then tapped the microphone on the podium set up in the ring to make sure that it was working properly. That task accomplished, he favored the Raw audience with another scornful gaze.

"You know," he began. "Ever since last week, people have been hounding Melina for a comment about what she did to Mick Foley last week." His words were greeted with a few weak boos. The Intercontinental Champion went on, reaching up to pull his sunglasses further down the bridge of his nose. "But, come on, what did you people expect her to do? I mean, look at me."

The Raw Superstar leaned back, indicating his championship gold and impressive physique with both hands. "I'm Johnny Nitro. I'm the Intercontinental Champion." Nitro sneered. "You all wish that you were me." The Intercontinental Champion turned slightly to his left, indicating his girlfriend. "I get to go home and get freaky with Melina every night—and then I cuddle with my Intercontinental Championship."

Melina stared at her fingernails as he spoke. Her features were frozen in an expression of bored indifference, but it was a mask, a shield between the world and her true feelings. She kept her gaze on her hands because she was afraid that if she looked at Nitro, he would read in her eyes what she refused to let show on her face—that standing up here was killing her.

The paparazzi princess did not want to be here. Not because the segment was bombing—even though it was; fans knew mid-card filler when they saw it. And not because of boredom or indifference—but because Melina didn't want any more reminders of her betrayal. She had done what was necessary for her career, horrible as it had been, with the belief that once it was over, she would never have to face Mick Foley again.

Much to her chagrin, it was not that simple, as she learned when she had arrived at the Boardwalk Hall in Atlantic City this afternoon. After she and Nitro had been summoned to the GM's office, they had been informed by Mr. McMahon that they would be holding a "press conference" this evening, to address their (or rather, Melina's) actions the previous week. Nitro was all gung-ho about the idea; even after a week, he still hadn't gotten all of his Foley-bashing out of his system.

As soon as the Dominant Diva had heard, however, her stomach had inverted and there were a few critical seconds when she was sure that she was going to vomit all over the Chairman's desk. But Melina had swallowed her bile and forced a smile onto her face, stretching her mouth as one would a rubber band. The only thing worse than doing the segment would have been explaining her conflicted conscience to both Nitro and Mr. McMahon.

But as she stood up, listening to her boyfriend extol himself and insult the Hardcore Legend, the paparazzi princess wondered if she would have been better off throwing up on the Chairman. At least then, she would have had an excuse, an opportunity to avoid the cameras and the lights and all mention of Mick Foley. Melina had spent years trying to make it to this ring—and now this ring was the last place she wanted to be.

Plus—in a completely unrelated note—she really hated her hair tonight. The stylist backstage had, for some inexplicable reason, swept the highlighted portions of her dark tresses into a bun, which perched at the top of her forehead like some absurd hat or the horn of a unicorn. Melina hadn't really been paying attention—she'd still been floored by the press conference news—and by the time she did, it was too late to change her hairdo. Johnny hadn't noticed…but then again, Johnny never really noticed things like that.

Mick did…the Dominant Diva found herself thinking. Whenever I cut my bangs or added a new color, Mick was always the first one to notice…and to compliment me… Melina tried to focus on what Nitro was saying, but she could already feel herself being pulled back, back to the place and time that would eventually lead her to this moment…

Melina jogged down the ramp, hoping that she wouldn't trip over her own stiletto-heeled boots. At the bottom, in front of the ring, Mick Foley lay in a battered bloodied heap, surrounded by one or two referees and the familiar figure of the trainer. As the paparazzi princess got closer, she heard the trainer say something to referee Chad Patton, something about Foley being "unable to continue".

The Dominant Diva halted, kneeling down by Mick's head. Melina was not particularly squeamish, but her stomach still turned at the sight of the Hardcore Legend; he looked like he had been in a car accident. The paparazzi princess felt tears spring to her eyes and she tentatively reached out to brush some of Mick's hair back from his face. As she did so, Mick's eyes flickered open and locked onto hers. Immediately, his mouth twisted in his usual toothless grin, even though he must have been in an extraordinary amount of pain.

"Wait a minute!" Melina and the trainer looked up at the rasping sound of Ric Flair's voice. The Nature Boy leaned over the top rope, glaring at all of them, but at the Hardcore Legend in particular. His face and chest were covered in blood; he looked like he was wearing a red mask. Melina almost couldn't believe that this wide-eyed maniac was the normally suave, collected, sixteen-time World Champion.

Flair continued. "This isn't a 'Lay On Your Ass Match'; it's an 'I QUIT' match! Get your ass back in here, Foley!" He threw the mic down, where it hit the floor with a crackle and pop of electricity. The Nature Boy rolled out of the ring and stormed toward the small huddle, which immediately scattered—Melina included. Grabbing Foley by the shirt and hair, he picked him up and hurled him bodily back into the ring.

Slowly, moving on feet that no longer felt like they belonged to her, Melina walked to the edge of the ring apron, unable to help, but unable at this point to look away…

"—So, Mick, keep fantasizing, 'cause my Melina would never associate herself with a bonified quitter like you!" Nitro finished, to a weak chorus of apathetic boos. Satisfied, the Intercontinental Champion turned toward his girlfriend, waiting for her to add her rancorous commentary. But Melina said nothing. She didn't even look at him; only continued to stare at her hands.

Nitro cast a surreptitious glance around the arena, wondering how much time he could let elapse before this pause became noticeable. "Mel?" he hissed under his breath, hoping the microphone wouldn't pick up his voice.

The paparazzi princess barely heard him, however; she was still lost in the past…

Flair shoved the spiked end of the 'Barbie' into Mick's unprotected face, the barbed wire gouging his already-wounded flesh. "I'm gonna tear your eye outta your head!" the Nature Boy snarled.

"Ric, stop!" Melina cried. She was sobbing now, and not quite sure why. Maybe because up until now, she had never witnessed carnage that hadn't been over a championship. Maybe because she had never realized until now that two men could tear each other apart over something as insignificant as pride. The paparazzi princess turned her attention to the Hardcore Legend. She couldn't tell if Mick was still conscious; the shallow rise and fall of his chest at least assured her that he was still breathing. "Quit, Mick!" she pleaded, her voice breaking as she struggled to rein in her tears. "Please, quit!"

Flair's eyes shot up, fastening on her, the blue of his irises startling against the ghastly red hue of his face. "I'll kill you too, you stupid bitch!" he growled, and the Dominant Diva backed up a step or two, still crying. "Now, have you had enough yet?" This statement was directed at Foley. Again, the Hardcore Legend gave no indication of whether or not he was still in the land of the living. Flair's eyes narrowed, and he shoved the 'Barbie' back into Mick's face, tearing his fragile flesh even more.

The paparazzi princess wasn't even aware that she was running until she saw the world move past her in a blur. She knelt down by the announce tables, grabbing two different items. One was a microphone.

The other was a white towel…

Nitro eyed the audience once again from behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses. The audience—apathetic to begin with—was becoming downright restless, and he could sense that they were mere moments away from starting the dreaded "Boring" chant.

"Mel!" he whispered again, a little louder this time, but there was still no response, no indication that the Dominant Diva had even heard him. It was like she was catatonic or something.

Or just lost in really deep thought…

Melina hurled the towel over the top rope, watching it for a second as it floated down to the canvas in a pool of white terrycloth. "Ric, he quits!" she screamed into the mic. "He quits!" Scrambling underneath the bottom rope, the paparazzi princess crawled to Mick's side, gazing imploringly up at the Nature Boy. "Please stop it," she pleaded, softer this time. "Ric, stop it."

Flair didn't answer at first; only stared back at her. Then, he abruptly wrested the microphone from the referee, raising it to his own lips. "SHE—" he spat, pointing at the Dominant Diva. "SHE…does NOT quit for HIM! HE quits! Get out of the way!"

Reaching down, he grabbed Melina by the hair, hauling her away from Foley and practically throwing her across the ring. The paparazzi princess let go of her microphone, shrieking, feeling strands of her hair being torn out by the roots. She stumbled when Flair released her, almost falling down onto her ass. As soon as she had regained her equilibrium, however, she dashed right back to Mick's side, kneeling down once again.

As she did so, she wondered what was compelling her to do this; what made Mick Foley so special that she was willing to put her own life in danger. Nitro and Mercury had been in some brutal matches, but she had never inserted herself to this extent; never interfered at the risk of her own safety.

She looked back at Mick, and the sight of him almost made her burst into tears all over again. The Hardcore Legend's breath was coming out in shallow gasps; his eyes were closed. As she stared at him, a shadow fell over them both. Slowly, Melina turned, looking up. Flair was standing over her, the 'Barbie' clenched tightly in both hands. As she watched, horrified, the Nature Boy raised the weapon over his head. There was no mistaking his intent; he was going to hit her with it. The Dominant Diva raised up one arm to shield her face, a scream of terror escaping her lips—

"Don't hurt her, Ric! I quit!" Melina gasped, turning around to gape at Mick. Somehow, the Hardcore Legend had gotten hold of her microphone and had gathered enough strength to raise it to his mouth and utter the two words that would end the bloodshed. "I quit, Ric," Mick repeated. "I quit."

The referee—who had clearly wanted to stop this match five minutes ago—gratefully motioned for the bell, before turning to Flair and persuading him to drop the 'Barbie'. The Nature Boy's music hit, drowning out everything else.

Melina, however, couldn't take her eyes off of Mick Foley. She stared at him, slowly comprehending that he had forfeited his match, his PRIDE…to protect her…

Nitro pressed his lips together. This was starting to get ridiculous. Melina never made mistakes like this, and the fact that she had chosen this segment as the site of her first irritated him even more. Praying that the cameras wouldn't pick it up, he shot out his left foot, catching her in the ankle. He hadn't meant to do it so hard, but it was the only method he could think of to get her attention.

Melina started, and then looked up slowly, as though coming out of a deep trance. For a moment, the Intercontinental Champion though that she was going to glare at him with reproach for kicking her, but the paparazzi princess continued to stare straight ahead, her features taking on that countenance of haughty disdain that the world knew so well.

The Dominant Diva leaned closer to the mic. "I want to make one thing clear," she began, her strident voice showing no signs of nervousness. Her brown eyes narrowed, and her lips drew back from her teeth even further. "I would never let Mick Foley touch me!"

At this, Nitro relaxed. There was the Melina he remembered; not the mute statue he had been staring at a moment ago.

Melina looked around the arena, hesitating for a second. Instantly, the "Boring" chants started, and she raised her voice angrily. "Mick had a crush on me!" she sneered. "He prides himself on being a regular person—and I don't associate myself with regular people!"

Tears were climbing up her throat, but she swallowed them, forced them back—because it was too late, too late to let this audience and the rest of the world know that she really did care. Too late…to take back her betrayal. "He's disgusting," she added. "I would never leave Johnny Nitro for a one-eared smelly Muppet like Foley!"

As she spoke, telling this audience what they expected to hear out of her, the paparazzi princess couldn't hear the indifferent jeers; she couldn't even hear the sound of her own voice. The only noise reverberating in her ears was the mournful tone of Mick's voice as he gasped out the two words that the worst violence had not been able to drag out of him.

I quit, Ric…

Don't hurt her…

I quit…


As soon as they returned to the backstage area, Melina pushed Nitro's arm off her shoulders, pulling away from him. "I need some air," she muttered under her breath, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth.

"Mel, wait!" the Intercontinental Champion called after her. "Come on!" But Melina was already gone, disappearing around a corner, moving faster on a pair of spike heels than he would have anticipated. Nitro pushed his sunglasses up onto the top of his head, frowning in bewilderment. "Wonder what's up with her?" he asked to no one in particular.

Melina maneuvered through the labyrinth of corridors, trying to find one that was deserted, trying to find a place where she could let out this emotion bubbling up inside her without fear of anyone seeing.

She finally located a hallway where there were no equipment crates, no supply tables, no other bodies of any kind. The paparazzi princess pressed her forehead against the wall, her hands over her face, her shaking shoulders the only indication that she was crying.

She had always known that she was alone, but right now was the first time that she genuinely felt alone. The rest of the roster thought she was nothing more than an ambitious bitch; even Nitro saw her as cold-hearted. There was no place where she could drop her A-list snob persona and just be herself.

But what was herself? Was she truly a good person…or was that just another façade as well?

"I'm not a bad person," the Dominant Diva whispered. "I'm not…"

Aren't you?...the cold little voice inside of her whispered, the one that sounded suspiciously like her on-camera character. Foley thought you were a good person…and look what happened to him…

"Stop it…"

Yeah, you were touched by all of the blog posts and all of the nice things that he wrote, but in the end, that didn't stop you from turning on him when you got the chance. That didn't STOP you from hitting him with that low blow, before telling him that he was fired…

"Please stop…" Melina pleaded. "Stop it…" Hadn't she said the same thing once before…only hadn't she been begging for Foley's life then?

This conscience you seemed to have developed…maybe THAT'S the mask that you put on, while this ruthless bitch that everyone knows—THAT'S the real Melina…

Melina spun around, leaned back against the cinderblock wall and looking up at the ceiling, tears trickling down her cheeks. "What other choice did I have?" she asked the empty air, her voice full of dull pain. "What was I supposed to do, spend the rest of my career hanging around that loser?" She shook her head. "It wasn't my fault."

But it WAS…the little voice retorted. It WAS your fault, Melina…

The paparazzi princess closed her eyes again, letting out her breath in a low shuttering gasp. When had her life become this complicated? When had her own emotions become such a taboo quality?

As she stood there, releasing her captive feelings bit by bit, she heard footsteps off toward her right. It must be Nitro, coming to find her. The Dominant Diva quickly straightened up, swiping under her eyes with her hands, eradicating all evidence of her crying. She shifted her body, arranging her limbs in a slightly more seductive posture, and looked toward the direction of the sound, allowing her mouth to curve into a tiny smile—a smile which vanished when Jeff Hardy walked around the corner.

Both the Rainbow-Haired Warrior and the paparazzi princess froze when they saw each other. After a few moments had elapsed, Jeff glanced down at Melina's hands, which were empty. "Oh, it's you," he remarked, a thin vein of sarcasm threading through his voice. "I didn't recognize you without your cell phone."

Melina's eyes narrowed and she sucked in an indignant breath, drawing in enough oxygen to utter a retort, but the Charismatic Enigma wasn't finished. He brought his eyes back up to her face, the intensity of his green gaze pressing against her skin like a weight. Jeff frowned. "You're not going to run into me again, are you?"

The Dominant Diva let out a low burble of harsh laughter, her lips curling into a smirk. "You wish," she shot back. Pushing her body off the wall, she sauntered toward Jeff, allowing him to see every curve, showing him what he could never possibly attain. The paparazzi princess leaned forward, knowing that she was giving him a spectacular view down the front of her top. "You just can't wait to put your hands on me again, can you?"

Jeff, however, didn't fall for her bait. His green eyes remained glued to her face, and she thought she saw a trace of a smile touch his mouth. "Funny," the Rainbow-Haired Warrior replied. "I could say the same thing about you—since you're the one who keeps running into me."

Melina's smirk evaporated and she straightened up, moving back a step. "Screw you," she spat, her voice full of venom.

Jeff shook his head, the smile definitely visible by now. "Not if you paid me, princess." His retort was enough to shock the Dominant Diva into silence; she merely stood there, mouth moving, but no words coming out. The Charismatic Enigma shrugged, and shoving his hands into his pockets, eased past her, continuing his journey down the hall.

He had only gone a few feet before Melina regained her voice. "By the way…good luck tonight," the paparazzi princess called out.

Jeff stopped, but didn't turn around. When he did respond, his voice was light, with only the barest hint of annoyance. "I didn't know that you cared."

"I don't," Melina leisurely spun around on one slim heel, tilting her head to the side. She strolled over to where the Rainbow-Haired Warrior stood, still talking as she moved. "I'm just looking forward to seeing my man Johnny kick your ass—something he should have done a few days ago."

"Then why did you stop him?" Jeff whirled around, his affable expression gone. He took a step toward the Dominant Diva, shortening the distance between them. The Charismatic Enigma shook his head. "You know what? It doesn't even matter. Bring it on, princess, 'cause I'm not stopping 'til I get your boyfriend's Intercontinental Championship."

The paparazzi princess made a soft derisive sound. "Please. I know all about you, Jeff Hardy." She took a step forward as well; now they were practically nose-to-nose. Melina lowered her voice to a malicious purr. "You're just a has-been, washed-up, former junkie…everyone knows that if you even make it to the big dance, you're just going to choke." She lifted her chin a bit. "Like what you see? Well, take a good look, because, just like Nitro's title, this is something that you'll never get."

Silence followed her remark, and the Dominant Diva smirked, thinking that she had finally achieved the last word. She turned to go—only to hear Jeff reply in a quiet voice: "You know…I'm glad that we'll never be friends." He paused for a moment. "I've heard what you do to your 'friends'." He uttered the final word in a long sarcastic drawl. Melina cast her gaze toward the floor, feeling her smile fade.

The Rainbow-Haired Warrior's gaze flicked upward for a second, then back down to her face. "By the way…nice hair." Turning back around, he continued walking, turning a corner and disappearing from her sight.

For several heartbeats, Melina remained where she was, blinking slowly as she struggled to comprehend this deliberate rejection. She curled the fingers of one hand into claws, and with a furious shriek, she reached up and tore at her elaborate coiffure. Bobby pins flew everywhere, hitting the floor with tiny metallic PINGs. Her hair came loose, falling down to cover her face.

The paparazzi princess pushed her reddish-brown locks back with both hands, her whole body shaking as she once again struggled to rein in her tears.

Jeff nailed Randy Orton with a boot to the gut, looping his arm around the Legend Killer's neck. Jumping up and twisting his body in mid-air, he slammed the third-generation star into the mat with a Twist of Fate.

All over the arena, the fans leapt to their feet, knowing what was coming next. Pushing his multicolored hair back from his face, the Charismatic Enigma staggered to the nearest turnbuckle. He deftly climbed the ropes to the top, and pausing for a moment, he dove head-first toward the prone figure of Orton, nailing him with the Swanton.

The crowd leapt to their feet, obscuring Melina's view of the action, but she could see hear the thud of the referee's hand as it connected with the mat, along with the fan's chants: 1…2…3.

The ovation that followed was deafening; the Dominant Diva could barely make out Jeff's entrance music. She couldn't even see the Rainbow-Haired Warrior anymore; all she could see was fans on their feet, displaying an enthusiasm that had been totally absent during her 'press conference' with Nitro.

The paparazzi princess stood at the door of one of the ground exits. From her vantage point, she was just able to see the ring and the entrance ramp. Once the match had started, she had made her way to this point, watching the bout from behind the door, hoping none of the audience would spot her.

She could have watched the match from the luxurious privacy of her and Nitro's dressing room, but after the 'press conference', she still didn't think that she was capable of looking her boyfriend in the face and pretending not to care. Besides, as strange as it might sound…she wanted to watch Jeff Hardy wrestle.

Melina told herself that she was just being a good manager and a good girlfriend; she was scouting her boyfriend's competition ahead of time. But some inner voice, some deep-rooted intuition told her that it was more than that; that there was a reason she felt compelled to gravitate toward the Charismatic Enigma…and it had nothing to do with Johnny Nitro.

That's crazy...the Dominant Diva told herself. I don't even LIKE him; why would I be observing his match if it wasn't strictly business?...

Maybe that's the question that YOU should be answering…the annoying little voice shot back.

Melina didn't get the chance to offer a mental reply before another voice—a real voice—interrupted her: "Mel! There you are!"

The paparazzi princess whirled around, her eyes widening at the sight of the Intercontinental Champion hurrying toward her. "Johnny! You scared me!" she exclaimed.

Nitro reached her side, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. "I've been looking everywhere for you, baby," he replied. His handsome face creased in a frown. "What happened tonight? Why'd you run off?"

Melina's mind abruptly went blank, and she struggled to think of an appropriate response. "Oh, that…I, uh—"she stammered. "I-I had a stomach ache! I've had it all evening, and…I thought that I was going to puke. That's why I froze up during the press conference; I was trying not to barf all over the podium."

The Intercontinental Champion immediately backed away, his expression wary. "You're not catching something, are you? 'Cause I can't afford to get sick, not with a title match next week—"

His girlfriend shook her head. Secretly, she was annoyed that when she mentioned illness—as faux as it might be—Nitro's first thought was for himself and not for her. "I'm fine," Melina assured him, hiding her irritation. "I just need to eat something and lie down."

"Oh, okay. Good." Nitro answered, obviously relieved. Melina noticed, however, that he remained where he was. The Intercontinental Champion glanced behind her, frowning once again when he saw the open door. "What's you doing back here, anyway?"

"Here?" the Dominant Diva replied, trying to sound nonchalant. Which was ridiculous…because what reason did she had to feel guilty? "I was just…checking out your competition." She turned toward the door as well, grateful to be able to break eye contact with Nitro. "Looks like that loser managed to do it after all," the paparazzi princess remarked bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest.

She felt Nitro's hand on her shoulder. "Yeah, well, he got lucky. If Carlito hadn't been there for the distraction, Orton would be the number one contender right now." The Intercontinental Champion tugged gently, turning Melina back around. "Don't worry about it, babe. Like you said, when the time comes, he'll drop the ball—and if he doesn't do it on his own, you'll be there to help him drop it."

"Yes…yes, I will," the Dominant Diva replied, hoping Nitro wouldn't notice how mechanical her voice sounded. The Intercontinental Champion grinned, reaching down to take Melina's hand in his. Still afraid of cooties…the paparazzi princess thought sourly. Readjusting his sunglasses, Nitro turned and led Melina down the hall.

They had only gone a few yards before Melina stopped, looking up tentatively at her boyfriend. "Johnny, could I ask you a question?" The Intercontinental Champion gazed at her expectantly. The Dominant Diva reached up with her free hand, nervously touching her hair, which now tumbled loosely over her shoulders in brown, red, and blond waves. "Do you like my hair this way…or the way it was before?"

Nitro frowned. "You mean it was different before?" Melina stared at him incredulously for a few seconds before realizing that her boyfriend was being completely serious.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she merely shook her head, looking away. "Never mind, Johnny," she finally said, resuming her original pace. Unbidden, a memory resurfaced in her mind—the probing intensity of Jeff Hardy's green eyes as he studied her face, the unintentional close proximity of their bodies…

"Never mind," the Dominant Diva whispered again, her voice suddenly husky.