Absolute Smokeshow

Another Bump In The Road

Your name was being called in a familiar Australian lilt. You must have fallen asleep, but how lucky you were to wake up to your beautiful girlfriend.
Opening your eyes, you see Rhea looking down at you, concerned. Dom kneels down to peer over her shoulder, also looking worried.
"We heard something in the hall and went to check," Dominik told you, a comforting hand squeezing Rhea's shoulder. Then, looking around as he stood up: "How did you fall but the food didn't?"

"Shit," you sat up, remembering how you ended up here on the hallway floor in the first place, "That's embarrassing."
"What is?" Dom asked, eyeing the tray suspiciously for a moment.
"I haven't had a panic attack that bad since I had to do a 20-minute book report in front of the entire class senior year," you explained, trying to lighten the mood when your girlfriend's frown deepened at the information, "I was the only one who got an "A" without having to do the full twenty; the girl I had a crush on actually started talking to me after that!"
"What made you so stressed just now, then, love?" Rhea asked, offering you her hand as she stood, "How can I help?"

Letting her hoist you up, you watched Dom take the tray of food into the room before speaking again.
"... Have you checked any of your social media today?"
"You know me, babe: I'm only on my phone to talk to you or Dom," she replied, nodding for you to follow her back into the room, "Both of my loves are here with me, so my phone is just a fancy clock right now."
"Well, I think one of the people taking photos of us last night was a reporter or something," you explained, closing the door behind you, "One of the pictures ended up on the front of a magazine downstairs. They called me a..."
Belt bunny. Somehow you couldn't say it out loud. They think I only want to be with her because she's a wrestler with a title? That I don't really love her?

"Fucking wankers," Rhea hissed, her mind filling in the blanks - with what, you weren't sure. She paced back and forth before pausing and taking a deep breath.
"This is all my fault," Rhea sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed, setting her elbows down on her legs, and running her fingers through her hair as she lowered her head, "I should have been more careful last night."
There was a part of you that agreed - a part that was still hurt by the fact that you didn't get to have a say in your exposure to the media, including people whose job descriptions were "stalk celebrities and everyone in their orbit." People like the ones that tried to follow the three of you last night. It was enough to make you hesitate.

"Rhe..." you sighed, pushing past the memory as you sat down next to her, "It's not your fault people won't let you have your privacy."
"She's right," Dom agreed, setting the breakfast tray down on the bed before pulling out his reheated chicken tenders, "Blaming yourself won't help. But food?" - he raised his container - "Food might help."
"... How?" Rhea asked after a moment, raising her eyebrow at him and reluctantly picking up a piece of toast.
"Dunno," he admitted, grinning sheepishly, "But it always makes me feel better."
"Can't argue with that logic," she laughed, her amused smile lighting up her face again as she took a bite.
You gave Dom an appreciative look, standing up and miming smoking a joint before heading back into the bathroom. The fan was still on and your supplies were exactly where you had left them on the counter.

Click. Inhale.
Puff. Puff.
Hold.
... Slow exhale.
Take a breath.
Long inhale.
You concentrated your attention on the motions until you felt it taking effect.
It wasn't until the smoke started to relieve some of the ache in your muscles that you realized you were aching in the first place. Judging by the way it felt, your shoulder had taken most of the impact when you fell. Massaging it, you winced when your fingers pushed down on a tender spot. A bruise. You suppose it could be worse and take another hit, the conversation in the bedroom barely audible - until your girlfriend's voice suddenly filled the room.

"Bloody FUCKING-" Rhea interrupted herself with a frustrated growl as you heard a small thud on the carpeted floor.
"Everything okay?" you called, licking your fingers and using them to extinguishing the joint's embers in your haste to check on your girlfriend.
Her phone, lying right by the bathroom door, stops you in your tracks. Rhea seems to have resumed pacing, muttering a string of curses under her breath. Picking up her phone, you see what angered her:
A conversation thread on a public post between a few different users; the topic seemed to be speculation on who Rhea Ripley's girlfriend was.
"I think I've seen her at the new gay bar!"
"OMG i think she lives in my same apartments??"
"Does anyone know her name?"

Rhea's phone was yanked out of your hands by an apologetic-looking Dom - chicken still in hand - before you could read further.
"I didn't want to stress you out more," he said by way of explanation. Medicated as you were, taking the phone away was likely for the best as you were trying to process how you were going to deal with this terrible new development.
"Call the others," Rhea stopped pacing to direct the order at Dominik, "Have them meet us in the parking lot."
He nodded, stuffing one last bite in his mouth as your girlfriend started packing up her things, appearing to have turned her fury into hyper-focused purpose and intention.
"Do you need me to head out, then?" you ask, confused.
"No, not at all," Rhea looked up for a moment, holding your gaze to make sure you understood, "You're coming with us to the next show; we're keeping you safe."