A Chink in the Armor (WWE Fan Fic)#Wattys2014

Chapter 3

Sara looked at me as he stepped into the elevator.

"You don't mind if I go down with you, do you?" He said with a smirk.

"No, not at all." Sara said in my place. My silence kind of made me awkward. He looked my way.

"What did Creative say?"

"I auditioned and I don't know if I'll get picked but Jim Ross liked me."

"Who was on the panel?"

"Stephanie, Triple H, Ric Flair and Jim Ross." I said calmly.

"Well, what happened?"

"Mister Ross asked me for a bio. I did some lame California girl thing. Then Triple H asked me for my real bio. I told him. He asked me one other question that hit me harder than any punch or landing."

Seth looked at me.

"What was the question?"

"What is a song that is close to my heart and why."

Seth looked at me.

"Well, what is it?"

"I can't tell you,"

He smirked.

"Why can't you tell me?"

I looked at him then at Sara.

"The people closest to my heart know the song." I said with a half smile. He looked at me and did the one thing I never thought a guy would do to me. He kissed my cheek. Sara saw him do it and said nothing. Thankfully I was saved by the ringing of the elevator door bell. Sara pulled me off as it was our floor. He looked at me and without thinking, told me that he wanted to see me again. I had no opportunity to respond as she pulled me into a bathroom.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't know."

Sara's hand hit her forehead.

"Lindsay, you might not even get to be in this plot. You're getting close to a guy when you don't even know if you have a job. What are you doing?"

"Trying not to fall in love."

She pulled my face into hers, staring into my eyes and with a tone similar to a mother's after her daughter's first kiss.

"Try harder!"

I squirmed and pulled away from my mentor and friend. She looked at me.

"I'm sorry, I just don't want to see you absolutely devastated if they don't pick you and they find someone else to do this."

I looked at her.

"Do you think they will?"

"Honestly, they'll contact me as soon as they come to a decision."

I smiled. The dress I wore was simple. I looked at my mentor.

"Do they have a dance studio in here?"

"Yeah, they do. It's around this corner and all the way down at the end of the hall."

I smiled.

"Thank you. I need to let off some steam and I can't do the other thing I do to de-stress."

"What's that?"

"Crochet. I make pot holders. Don't judge."

Sara laughed at me and watched me go down the hallway. Once I got to the studio, I noticed several bars and a stereo. Thankfully it had a dock for my Ipod. I loaded it onto the stereo and started to stretch once I removed my heels. After ten minutes of stretching and warming up, one of my favorite songs started, Christina Perri always made me feel like I could float. The song had deeper meaning than anyone realized.

"Who do you think you are, runnin around leaving scars, collecting your jar of hearts.."

I performed my first grand plié in bare feet. I performed a number so close to my heart. I remembered it like it was yesterday. I was seven and a half years old and not even a prima ballerina. I was in the back.

"You don't have the body for this, Lindsay. Try something else." My instructor told me numerous times.

I chose not to listen and continued. My body, at the age of 19, lost some of my flexibility. I twirled in time with the music. As that song ended, I stopped for a second. I looked at the mirror and stared. My hair fell out of the clip I used. The strap of my dress fell and I took the deepest breath I could. Dancing, outside of the farm, was my life. My mother encouraged me to be whatever I wanted to be.

The next song was more of a tango and I felt awkward being alone dancing to it. However, I did.  Shakira always had a way of making me feel amazing.

"Lucky for my lips not only mumble but spill kisses like a fountain. Lucky for my breasts are small and humble so you don't confuse them with mountains..."

I moved my hips without a thought to the music. Shakira's music made me happy. That's when I felt a hand mold itself into mine. It was strong, masculine, calloused slightly. I closed my eyes and continued to move with the music. The stranger did as well. His movements, leading mine as a male dancer's should, made me feel awkward, surprised, amazed and blissful. I didn't dare open my eyes in fear that what was happening was nothing more than an illusion. I remember the song ending but I didn't stop moving, nor did he.

"Lindsay," he said.

The stranger knew my name and out of the deepest fear of being caught, I opened my eyes.

"Seth!"

"My name is Colby right now. I'm here dancing with you. I'm not Seth Rollins. I'm not Tyler Black. I'm Colby Lopez and we're here dancing."

"I I-I didn't know you-you-you c-c-c-could dance."

"The stutter is cute. Do you always do that?"

"Only wh-wh-wh-when I'm nervous."

"What are you nervous about, Lindsay?" He asked me.

The way he said my name made me want to melt. It also made me want to run as far from him as I could. I wasn't familiar with the tone. His voice was low and raspy. He took my other hand and led me to dance with him to another song. His black pants and shirt weren't tight but weren't loose either. They fit him.

"I'm just nervous about being alone with you."

"I don't bite."

The song that played could have been any song except the song it was. "Somewhere With You" by Kenny Chesney.

"Dance with me?" He asked.

In that voice, in this moment, I couldn't say no. I slow danced with him. I laid my head on his chest and he looked down at me.

"God, you're tiny. I'm afraid I'll break you."

I tried to stifle a laugh and instead, it came out a giggle.

"Now that's cute." He said.

"What is?"

"That giggle. I like when a girl laughs. There's just something about it."

I looked up at him and smiled. Looking down at me, he asks me a simple question.

"How tall are you?"

"I'm five feet and five inches tall."

"Here I am complaining I'm the shortest in the group." He said laughing.

"How tall are you?"

"I'm six feet and one inch tall."

"So when you look down at me, you really are looking down at me."

He laughed again.

"You may just be the perfect girl, Sweetheart."

He then bent his head down and kissed my forehead. I looked at the clock on the wall.

"I've been in here for forty minutes. I need to go."

"Let me walk you."

"No, I'll be okay."

I ran out of the room in my bare feet, leaving Colby standing there