Who Do You Love - Dean Ambrose

Making Waves

The second the show ended I was hustled away again – literally put on a plane and flown out – meaning that within twenty-four hours of my grand unveiling, I was sat in a hotel room waiting for the House Shows to start. In many ways it was like having déjà vu, except this time instead of obsessing about Dean I was obsessing about Dean and my new-found stardom. One of those things I wanted, one of them I didn't and to narrow that down a touch I definitely wanted Dean.

Naturally the moment the driver had dropped me off, I had dumped my bags and got Kelly on the phone. For once however she had already been caught up with me, since it turned out she and Brent had both been watching for themselves. According to Kelly – with Brent in the background – it was simply to get to grips with my strange new world, although knowing her and her hormonal compulsions, it was safe to say the arm porn helped.

Surprisingly enough – once armed with all the facts – Kelly actually sided with Steph and chalked up the misdeeds up to either bad luck or locker room hazing. Which made me feel good. I mean surely both of them couldn't be wrong, right?

Of course, it still overlooked the whole eerie lanternthing but then that was the Wyatts and they were something else. Before he had packed me onto the plane, Hunter had assured me he would deal with their group – give them a week off to think things through carefully and allow them back when they proved they'd moved on. It seemed pretty simple – too simple come to think of it – but I'd only been there a short time, so what did I know?

In the end the best advice came from Kelly, as it was prone to when the going got tough,

"Lauren, you're staying at a spa hotel for two days. All expenses paid. Use it, okay? Go get a massage, order a cocktail and for god sakes try to enjoy yourself girl."

Over the years I had learnt that it was stupid to ignore her and so I had hung up, got changed and done exactly what she'd said. Within thirty minutes of receiving her order, I was up on the roof terrace alongside the pool, stretched on a lounger, watching the sunset and sipping merrily at a large mojito. Around me the place was almost deserted – a combination of dinner time and the middle of the week – and the solitude allowed me to exhale deeply and bit by bit, start to slowly relax.

This is the life.

As I finished my drink with some noisy straw-sucking, a shadow fell over me and I idly glanced up. I had already decided to treat myself to another – because what the hell, I'd had a long week – and so my order was out before I could register who it was,

"Can I get one more of the – ,"

"Princess, I'm not a waiter and I'm kinda fuckin' hurt you think I look like one."

My mouth dropped open in astonishment,

"Dean?"

"In the flesh."

"What are you doing here?"

In the time it took him to open his mouth, I was out of my lounger and suckered on tight, my arms wrapped in a firm circle around his neckline and my head buried laughing into his shirt. His hands came round to steady me instantly and he chuckled at my enthusiastic response.

"Missed you too Princess,"

"Are the others here as well?"