Blood River. Chapter 1; Pilot part 1.

"Breathe." That was all Alexa Bliss could tell herself as she ran, listening in horror as the intense footsteps behind her drew closer and closer. In the distance, the raging inferno of her childhood home grew larger, hotter, and more oppressive. She glanced over her shoulder, her heart jumping as she saw the massive silhouette gaining ground on her, despite how slow the unnamed man seemed to be moving.

The screams coming from the inferno sounded so familiar. Alexa knew the names and faces of every solitary voice emanating from that disaster. Turning slightly, again stealing a peek at her pursuer, she gasped lightly at the sight. A giant, horizon-consuming figure, arm raised with knife in hand, no more than ten feet behind her. As she observed, in sheer horror, a ghastly smile parted the lips of her attacker, though she couldn't make out his face.

Alexa let out a scream. A blood curdling roar of sheer terror, hoping to scare away the wraith. No dice. The terrifying apparition brought the huge blade down toward her as she heard every distant scream emanating from the raging blaze scream "no!" At the exact same time she felt hands shaking her, swaying her from side to side forcefully.

…..

"Alexa! Alexa!" Mickie James gently called, softly shaking the tiny blonde awake. After another minute of convulsing in her sleep, the waifish beauty sat up with a start, gasping for breath while wiping the accumulating sweat from her brow. At the foot of the miniscule girl's bed, a young looking golden retriever began to stir, before whining a bit and licking her distressed owner on her face, trying to comfort whatever was ailing the poor girl.

"Did you have the dream again, babe?"

Alexa nodded, fighting back a tear. "Yeah, Aunt Mickie, I did. I could feel the heat on me this time. It was so vivid."

The brunette woman slid an arm around Alexa's slight shoulders and rubbed her far forearm slightly. The aforementioned puppy jumped down from the bed, crossing the room to a large laundry basket stuffed with blankets.

"It's ok, Lexi," she half cooed, hoping her soothing voice and use of Alexa's nickname would remind her subconsciously that she was safe now.

"I'm sure it's just nerves. It's the first day at a new school." Mickie didn't believe this for a second, but she was hoping to calm Alexa's spirit before the minuscule young woman's emotions got out of control.

It had been a season of change for Alexa, and her aunt, and her Uncle John, and their 3 children. They'd taken in Mickie's sister's daughter the previous spring, moving her from Ohio to Georgia. They'd stepped up after the girl had been released from inpatient psychological rehabilitation. She'd been too late to finish the school year at the local high school, but she'd made the cheer squad at prestigious Blue River High through a special tryout the team's coach arranged after seeing video of her prodigious talent. The special treatment hadn't endeared her to a segment of the "Raiderettes" team, but she'd been embraced by a few of them, too.

Her train of thought was viciously derailed by her aunt Mickie's soothing voice.

"Sweetie?" She called, hoping Alexa wasn't suffering a complete psychological break.

"Sorry," Alexa returned, an embarrassed smile parting her lips. "I'm just overwhelmed. It's been… a lot of change."

"I know, Lex," Mickie answered sympathetically. "I can't imagine how rough the last few months have been on you. With," she paused, trying to tread lightly around the devastating recent past events of Alexa's life. "You coming here to live with us, and what happened with your parents." She stopped abruptly, feeling Alexa tense up and begin shaking in emotional distress.

"It's just been so hard." Alexa managed to groan out, desperately trying to maintain her composure. And it really had been. As far as the tiny girl's situation was concerned, it had not been a particularly good calendar year.

"And you are so strong for having come through all that. And," she continued, pulling Alexa close to her and planting a playful kiss on the top of her head, "your cousins look up to you. You're the strongest person they've ever met."

Alexa rolled her eyes and wiped away a tear.

"Yeah right. I've been a blubbering mess all summer."

"I'm serious," Mickie countered, squeezing the tiny girl tighter under her arm. "Brynn told me the other day she wanted to be tough, just like Lexi."

Alexa couldn't suppress a small laugh. "Well, if she could see me now…"

Mickie chuckled. "You're gonna do great things. Blue River High is an incredible place. I know some of the kids from Ryder's, and John works with them a lot. Also, don't forget that you're an insanely hot blonde cheerleader. You're gonna be super popular." She started rocking Alexa gently from side to side, feeling the shivering in Alexa's body beginning to calm. "I love you. You remind me so much of my sister, and she was a rock star. There's so much of her in you, and I know she'd be proud. She was proud," Mickie added, arm still around her niece. After another moment, Alexa steeled herself, exhaled deeply, gave her faithful canine friend a few scratches behind the ears, and scooted toward the edge of her bed.

"Thank you, Aunt Mickie," Alexa said softly. "I think I'm okay now. I just have a lot on my mind."

Mickie nodded. "I get it. How 'bout John gives you a ride on his way to work instead of you taking the bus? And then one of these weekends we'll go find you a good car? Something you can have so you're not depending on us to get from cheer practice back here." She grinned at her niece. "And you can go to all the parties and social events I just know everyone is going to invite you to."

Alexa rolled her eyes again. "Yeah right. Because I was such a party animal in Ohio."

Mickie stood from her perch on Alexa's mattress. "I'm telling you. It's different here. You're going to be popular. In fact, I worry that you might be a little TOO popular. Some of the boys here are-"

Alexa raised her hand to cut her aunt off. "You don't have to worry about that. I'm nowhere near being ready after what happened with Buddy."

Mickie tried not to betray the pant of sadness she felt when Alexa mentioned her former boyfriend from her old life. In every correspondence she'd had with her sister, Alexa's mom, Mickie read about how Alexa and Buddy were "the kind of young love that makes anyone around them pine for the days of their youth." Mickie had once written in response that if the two youthful lovebirds were demonstrative enough to make Monica write "like Lord Byron," they must've been pretty cute together. It genuinely made Mickie's heart ache to know that Alexa would never see him again.

"I know," Mickie returned. She tried to keep her speech patterns as even as possible, though she really wanted to remind Alexa that it had been almost a year since the incident, and that socializing with some of Blue River's cutest and most eligible boys might be exactly what the tiny cheerleader needed.

"When you're ready, though, Lexi. The boys in Georgia are a little different. The manners, the accents…" Mickie trailed off.

Alexa's face now morphed into an amused smirk.

"Sounds like you should date one, then."

Alexa turned toward her armoire. It was one of the few articles of furniture from her old house that survived, and she treasured it. Carefully, she began selecting clothes for that day, and setting aside a change into athletic wear for after school practice.

…

A few minutes after Mickie traipsed up the stairs from Alexa's basement bedroom into the kitchen area of the bustling Cena family home, Alexa trotted lightly up the same stairwell, her faithful puppy only a step behind her, hoping to grab a bit of breakfast before the fateful journey to her first day at a new high school.

Breakfast hadn't always been easy for Alexa. No meal had, in fact. She'd developed a debilitating eating disorder at thirteen, and it even became life-threatening at one point. Her parents, her brother, and Buddy had all worked very hard to help her overcome her bulimia. Even with the four of them constantly watching over and praying for Alexa, she'd still needed professional help to be able to eat again without feeling self-conscious or like she was surrendering control of her own body.

Mickie was well aware of Alexa's past struggles. She'd been filled in by Monica, Alexa's mom, as the situation developed some years back, and now she felt somewhat prepared to accommodate her niece's dietary needs. In particular, Alexa ate a lot of egg whites. A LOT. It was a food that would give Alexa much of what she needed nutritionally without upsetting her extremely fragile stomach. So Mickie, her compassion for Alexa shining through again and again, had a fresh egg white and honey on wheat bread sandwich waiting for the slight young woman. It was calories, protein, and carbs. Everything she needed without forcing her to take in more than she wanted. Monica had recalled to Mickie more than once what Alexa's counselor advised; forcing her to eat will only cause purging later.

That's why Mickie was embracing Alexa's dietary requests. The ultrafit tiny young blonde was as conscious of her body as Mickie was the life and well being of her children, and Mickie wasn't about to fight her on her preferences, given everything that'd happened in Ohio, so she just cooked what Alexa liked and smiled while she did it. "After all," Mickie reminded herself, "Alexa is family, she's been the least imposing houseguest ever, and she's very good at changing diapers, and taking care of the twins, so she deserves a few concessions when it comes to what she eats."

Breakfast time at the Cena household was almost always chaos. There was Brynlee, John and Mickie Cena's oldest child at ten years of age, and the twins, Ansleigh and Anson. All three were vocal about their hunger, and that noise was enough without the small TV camped on the linoleum kitchen counter. At the moment it was blaring the morning news, with the local Atlanta anchor going on about a triple murder in Northern Kentucky, or a traffic jam that would delay trips through the city for hours, or a school budget crisis in Tampa. There was no telling, And Alexa was only half listening as she sat down anyway.

Her breakfast was exactly how she liked it, which made the tiny high school junior smile. It would be the first of several smiles that day. In fact, Alexa would later conclude that she'd smiled more that day than she had since she'd moved from Ohio.

She sat contentedly, eating her simple meal with her young cousin and half-listened as Mickie and John ran through their normal morning banter, with him reminding her about Brynlee's softball practice and Mickie asking John if Alexa could bum a ride with him to school, since her assigned bus was currently steamrolling by the Cena home with no sign of stopping for the new student.

"Sure," John asserted, snapping Alexa out of her trance. "But it's not gonna help Alexa socially to be dropped off by a cop for her first day at a new school. They're gonna think she's a 'narc.'"

Mickie pondered this for a second, before shrugging. "There's that clump of trees out front of the student parking lot. Drop her off behind those. Nobody sees her, and she doesn't have to ride the…" the maternal brunette stopped for a moment, then looked at Brynlee. "Bryn, cover your ears for a second."

She waited for the precocious girl to make a big show of pressing her hands against the sides of her face. Mickie continued. "...shitty yellow bus."

Alexa giggled before quickly finishing her breakfast. At that moment, something that terrified the towheaded pixie sparked within her for the first time since she'd left her home state. A spark that maybe things were going to be better than she'd left them in her home state. A spark that allowed her to dream that regardless of the horrors she'd left behind her, that new hopes, friends, and opportunities awaited her at the other end of a short ride in a squad car. She quickly stood from the breakfast table, grabbed her trusty, well worn, and slightly charred backpack, and followed John out of the kitchen, stopping briefly to tightly embrace her aunt Mickie, and trotted down the outside steps and into the passenger's seat of squad car number "three eight seven five."

…

"Can you turn that up please? I love this song." Bayley Martinez's attention was divided, but there was nothing on earth that could've completely taken her away from THIRD EYE BLIND's "Semi-Charmed Kinda Life."

Dean Ambrose shook his head, but obliged, reaching toward his console and turning the appropriate knob.

It was a common routine, carried over from the year before. Dean would wake up before the crack of dawn at his mom's house, avoid whatever random dude or, even worse, significant other was shacking up at the residence that particular evening, and get ready for school. Then he'd hop in his SUV and drive, often at least twenty miles per hour over the speed limit, to pick up his stepsister from his father's house. This part wasn't necessary, but Bayley was the one member of his dad's new family that Dean actually wanted to be around. His stepmom seemed nice enough, and Bayley's older sisters were...fun, but Dean deeply resented the lot of them for causing his dad to take off on his mom, and so his interaction with the new Ambrose clan was limited to the smiley hugger.

From their vantage point, Dean could survey the entire front profile of Blue River High School. He especially enjoyed the banner across the school's front entrance that read, in big, black letters; "Welcome back Senior class of 1999 and all students." Dean shook his head and scoffed. "They don't give a shit if we feel welcomed or not."

He, Bayley, and Brock Lesnar, her tutoring subject and the third occupant of Dean's Explorer, had been on school property since around six AM. Because of his various other school commitments, Dean had to take weight training at that time of day if he wanted to play football, and so he was there. Himself, Bayley, and a handful of teammates.

"Brock, could you get your feet off the seat, please?"

Lesnar grunted his half-hearted agreement, but moved his massive boots to the floor of the vehicle. From the seat next to Dean, Bayley was giving the heavily muscled teen last minute instructions for his algebra exam.

"...remember, Brock, the key is 'x.' X is the quarterback. You have to get him alone before you can take him down. Got it?"

The oafish boy nodded, taking another healthy bite of his chicken biscuit.

"Got it," Lesnar returned in the affirmative through a mouthful of breakfast.

Bayley visually scanned over a sheet of printed notes.

"Ok, Brock. I think you're ready." She turned back toward him, forcing him to make eye contact with her.

"Remember, you have to pass this summer final before you can move up. If you don't, say 'bye' to football. They're already making an exception letting you take your final after the summer has ended."

Brock shook his head wryly. "I know. English makes sense to me. History? Shit already happened. When the shit am I ever gonna need to know what x equals?"

Bayley pondered this a moment. "So you've gotta buy five hundred feet of two by fours to repair your barn because Dean burned part of it down again."

Deans head jerked toward the other two occupants of the vehicle.

"Why you bringing that up? It was a total accident."

Brock shook his head, glaring at Ambrose.

"You're lucky my dad believed that bullshit cover story about someone tripping over a gas can while they were smoking. Otherwise they'd be dedicating this season to the memory of our dear departed starting linebacker."

Dean threw his arms up at his sides and shook his own head animatedly. "Who the fuck keeps gasoline in a hay barn? That's an insurance fraud lawsuit waiting to happen."

Brock couldn't suppress a chuckle. One of the main reasons he hung out with Dean was because of how funny the larger boy found Ambrose. Brock quickly fell silent, however, as he felt Bayley glaring back at him.

"Can we get back to this problem please?" She asked, the annoyed sound of her voice causing mild grief in Dean's soul.

"Sorry, Bay," Dean muttered quietly. Brock also halfheartedly gestured and grunted something resembling an apology.

Bayley grinned. "Thank you." She pointed back to the equation before. "So, what if you need to buy wood to rebuild the missing part of your barn? And Home Depot only sells twelve foot planks of two by four wood for eight dollars each. If the amount of wood you need is divisible by twelve, you'll know exactly how much you need, right?"

Brock nodded, following the logic of his tutor.

"But what if you need to figure length times height for how much wood you need? And THEN figure out how many planks you need? Then you're solving variables. That's all algebra."

Brock scoffed and reached into the white paper to go bag next to Dean, pulling out another biscuit. He unwrapped the delicacy from its foil and took a giant bite.

"Dammit, Lesnar, that was for Roman," Dean protested.

"Fuck him," Lesnar immediately countered, mouth still of chicken biscuit. "He should get off his girlfriend for five seconds and get over here if he wants breakfast."

Ambrose and Bayley both chuckled. Brock wasn't wrong. Their friend, Roman Reigns, had been conspicuous by his absence since he'd begun dating Natalya Neidhart. She was a senior, a year older than Dean, Roman, and Bayley, and she'd monopolized his time since walking up to Roman last spring and more or less told him that he was taking her to her Junior Prom. She knew what she wanted, she went for it, and Roman was undeniably caught in her web. As a matter of fact, Roman and Natalya, or "Nattie," were currently just three parking spaces over from Dean's SUV, engaging in what Dean liked to call their "Monday morning makeout." Roman's mom didn't like how serious Natalya wanted to be with her baby boy, and so she'd forbidden him from seeing the voluptuous blonde during the week. As it often did, the restriction did nothing but stoke Roman's desire to spend time with his verboten infatuation, and Roman had spent every Monday morning since the beginning of his relationship with Nattie rolling around on her backseat, their lips constantly engaged and their hands continuously roaming.

Dean let Bayley's soothing voice guide his train of thought back to the present.

"...yeah. Brock, you got this. Your problem is eighty percent mental. You can do this. You're smart. You had twenty three sacks in fifteen games last year. That takes smarts. If you get lost, just take a deep breath. Remember, we talked about all of this. Yeah?"

Brock nodded. "I know. Thanks Bayley." The giant flat-topped young man began stuffing papers and his math book into his backpack. "You gonna DJ my party after the game Friday?"

Bayley grinned and nodded vociferously. "Yeah. Can the band play?"

Brock sighed and shook his head slowly, before levelling his gaze at Dean. "I dunno, Bayley. Can they?"

Dean laughed, though it was mostly to keep from crying. "Dude. That was one time. And Seth has worked all summer to get better. If you let Elohssa rock your barn party Friday, I guarantee everyone has a great time."

Now it was Brock Lesnar's turn to shake his head. "I can't fucking believe you named your band the word 'asshole' backwards."

Bayley giggled. "I don't like it either, but Dean got shitfaced over the summer after Sasha dumped him and came up with it. We all felt too bad for him to tell him how shitty that name is."

Dean shook his head and gave Bayley and Brock the middle finger. "That name is not stupid. That name kicks ass." He paused his rant momentarily to glare at Bayley. "And she didn't dump me. It was mutual."

Bayley scoffed incredulously. "So y'all mutually agreed that she should suck that quarterback from Central's dick in the back row of the movie theatre?"

"Yeah, what was that kid's name?" Lesnar asked, pretending he didn't know.

"Adam Page," Dean muttered to himself. He wasn't actually all that sad to be rid of the girlfriend he'd put up with since second semester of Freshman year. He'd dated plenty over the summer, and actually had a really good time for most of the break with a girl from the next county over named Melina Perez. She, not Sasha, had swapped "v-cards" with the eager Ambrose during Blue River's Fourth of July celebration, but the two ended up calling their relationship off in mid August when it was clear that neither saw the relationship going further.

What bothered Ambrose, however, was the fact that Sasha cheated on him publicly. She'd made a fool of him and expected him to forgive her just because they'd had an argument the day before. She'd strode up to him, all smiles, and when he confronted her with the information he'd been given from a friend who'd seen Dean's supposed girlfriend enter an empty theatre with a rival suitor, she'd tried to laugh it off as a natural consequence of a "lover's quarrel." Dean saw the situation a bit differently,

"That's right! Adam Page," Brock crowed victoriously. "The very same Motherfucker we'll be seeing at this weeks game. Quarterbacking our opponents. I know you'll be extra anxious to whip his ass, Dean."

Ambrose nodded. He didn't really need any additional motivation to play hard. He loved football. But getting a measure of payback against that smirking, disease-ridden asswagon would make his efforts extra rewarding. He was playing all the scenarios out in his mind when he heard the back passenger door open.

"Thanks again, Bayley," Brock called quickly, sliding with a purpose out the open hatch. He briefly placed his massive hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Eat shit, Ambrose."

The smaller boy snickered in amusement.

"Only if you're mom's cooking, Lesnar." He stopped to make sure the vehicle's door was closed before adding "you big dumb motherfucker."

Bayley covered her mouth as she giggled. It still tickled her when her stepbrother cursed like that. Furthermore, Dean knew that, and so he often purposefully uttered phrases under his breath that would get a chuckle from her. Her train of thought course corrected, as it often did.

"Dean," she began, initiating a new line of communication, "why don't boys like me?"

"Boys love you, Bay," Dean responded, only half involved in the conversation.

"Nuh uh," the lovely latina countered, "I haven't been frenched since May."

Dean's face twisted into a mask of disgust. "Why do I need to know that?"

Bayley giggled, and was ready to respond, but both of the suv's occupants were distracted by a Blue River police car coming to a stop directly on the other side of the street of their vehicle.

Dean would always remember that first time he saw Alexa, because he would swear later that she just kind of elegantly unfolded from the passenger's seat of the black and white cruiser, and also because "6 Underground" by the SNEAKER PIMPS had just begun pulsing through the state of the art speakers adorning his Ford.

"Who the fuck is that?" Dean murmured, not caring that his stepsister could hear him. Bayley squinted slightly, unsure of who Dean was talking about. After a moment of pondering, her face lit up with recognition.

"That's Alexa! I met her over the summer at girl's open workouts. She just moved here."

Dean's face didn't change expression, but he peered over at his faux sibling, incredulous at her nonchalant nature. "You didn't think I'd want to know that a girl that looks like that-" he gestured wildly toward her as she walked toward the building, "is going to school here now? Holy shit."

The police roller gently coasted away, it's driver waiting to see that Alexa made it safely off the street and toward the school. Dean took another minute to fully process what he was seeing.

"She is…" He trailed off, trying to find the right word.

"Breathtaking?" Bayley cut in, as Dean nodded vociferously.

"You swinging both ways now, Bay?" Dean kidded.

"No!" Bayley shouted, offended by the assertion. "I'm just saying. From a purely objective standpoint, she's super hot." She watched, her smile growing, as Dean kept his eyes glued on the mysterious new blonde. "Dean has a crush!" She playfully punched her half brother on the shoulder. "You want me to talk to her for you? I heard she's in choir with us. I could get to know her there."

Deans first instinct was to refuse. Not because he didn't want Bayley to do exactly that, but because it was in his nature to deflect any outward appearance of attraction to a girl. Or, for that matter, any appearance that he might not believe that girl might not immediately be as into him as he was into her. The truth is, the incident with Sasha had deeply shaken his confidence. Where he once had a certain kind of dumb swagger, he now had a paper-thin bravado that hadn't yet been tested by Blue River High's complex and ruthless social scene.

"Uh, sure," he finally allowed, purposely slowing his train of thought down. "Just don't like...make it obvious."

Bayley giggled again, amused at the side of her stepbrother that so rarely showed itself.

"I'm serious," Ambrose continued. "Nothing obvious. Just something subtle, like 'that's my stepbrother Dean. As you can tell, he's ruggedly handsome. He enjoys candlelit dinners and long walks on the beach. He's also a gifted musician who feeds homeless dogs on weekends. I've also heard he has an enormous dong'..."

Bayley's laugh was more pronounced now. "You idiot," she finally choked out. "I'm not talking to her about the size of your...wang. That's weird."

Dean returned her bemused gaze with an incredulous one of his own. "It's not like we're related. I know you've seen the outline of my junk like a thousand times at dad's pool…"

He trailed off again as Bayley's laugh grew louder, before turning to groans of protest and mock revulsion. Deans unique repor with his youngest step sister was his favorite aspect of life at the moment, and her laugh soothed him, but he'd be lying if he claimed he didn't want her to follow through on her promise to get to know the mystery blonde who'd stride into the ordinarily mundane school and immediately set Dean's world upside down.

After another moment, the stepsiblings, brought together by a union neither asked for, gathered their belongings and reluctantly trudged into Blue River High School.

…..

For Alexa Bliss, the first day of her junior year of high school was the same as every other first day of school had been, with the notable exception that she was at a new school hundreds of miles away from where she'd grown up, and she was now amongst a sea of strangers with only a very few familiar faces. Her first two classes, chemistry and US history, had gone without a hitch, but the waifish girl with the red tipped hair couldn't help but feel like some sort of zoo exhibit. To state it plainly; Alexa Bliss drew combination of her beauty and the fact that she was brand new in a school that got very few transplants made her a favorite target for stares. She had seen that most of the kids were very nice, however, lending credence to the "southern hospitality" stereotype. She figured most of the male students were being kind because a pretty little blonde girl was asking them for help, but she was pleasantly taken aback at how many of the girls she'd met over the summer at either open workout or cheerleading practice remembered her name and greeted her warmly, too.

Now she was finding her way to her third period class; select mixed choir. In addition to being a gifted athlete, Alexa also harbored a passion (and talent) for music. She'd taken up piano at an extremely early age, and her singing voice came along not long after that. She'd even started dabbling in guitar a year or so before "the move," and one of Aunt Mickie's hand me down Fender electric six strings was currently occupying space in Alexa's basement room. But this was the first time she'd be making any kind of music publicly since the move. In fact, since she'd been released from the psychiatric care center, she hadn't played or sang publicly at all.

Looking around, Alexa was blown away by what she saw in the large choral rehearsal room. Athletes wearing letter jackets. Pretty girls. People that she immediately assumed were Blue River "high society." And here they all were, presumably all as equals.

The overwhelming sensation continued, and her social anxiety was nearing its boiling point, but suddenly her emotions were quelled by the soothing hand of a vaguely familiar brunette on her shoulder.

"Hi," the girl began enthusiastically. "I'm Bayley. You're Alexa, right?"

The slight blonde nodded and grinned lightly. "Yeah. Did we meet at open workouts?"

Now it was Bayley's turn to grin. "Yeah. I know there were a lot of people for you to meet, so my feelings aren't hurt if you don't remember me."

Alexa shrugged. "I remember your face. It's nice to meet you again, though."

Bayley smiled, spreading her arms for a hug. After a moment, Alexa acquiesced to Bayley's gesture, allowing the taller female to wrap her limbs around her.

"I'm a hugger," Bayley continued. "I like to make people feel welcome."

That sentiment flooded Alexa's soul with relief. Bayley seemed like the kind of person to give her straight answers, rather than withholding information that would potentially help her navigate the difficult waters of a new high school.

"Thanks, Bayley," Alexa responded kindly. "Can I ask you something?" She lilted. Prompted by Bayley's friendly nod, she continued. "What's the deal? At my old school, all the chorus kids were kinda nerdy. Like, the boys were kinda wimpy and the girls were all super prudes. This is like...different."

Bayley nodded, as though this sentiment were the most natural thought in the world. "Yeah, like eight years ago the county decided to start a 'total student' program. In addition to academics and sports, we were all required to learn an instrument or participate in some fine art. Most of us chose singing. My step brother Dean started on guitar, but now he sings and plays piano, too. He's really good." Her face lit up with revelation. "Our band is playing a barn party after the football game Friday. We're gonna kill Central and then after 'Elohssa' is gonna rock hard."

Alexa's head tilted in curiosity. "Elohssa? Wait…"

Bayley giggled and nodded again. "Yeah, it's 'asshole' but backward. Dean named us after he broke up with his girlfriend. She cheated on him."

"Aww," Alexa returned. "That was shitty of her." She found herself enjoying her conversation with the latina. "Is your step brother in here?"

Bayley's heart jumped inside. This was her chance to point Dean out to Alexa and see how the blonde responded. "Yeah, that's him." She pointed Dean out amongst the crowd of boys in the center of the choral formation.

"Holy cow," Alexa mused to herself. Dean was, in a word, hot. He was tall. Much taller than Buddy. His broad and muscular shoulders were framed by his "Raider Football" t-shirt. Alexa thought she'd seen him before, during practice for the football players and cheerleaders, but up close he could pass for a movie star.

"That's him?" Alexa asked, hoping not to betray her almost immediate infatuation with the boy. Her therapist had reiterated again and again that she wasn't ready for a relationship, but her stomach leapt inside her for the first time since she'd moved. Dean was gorgeous. And, as if that weren't enough, he made his way slowly through his friends and slouched on the piano bench in the corner of the room. As he opened the cover on the piano keys, the director made her appearance for the first time.

Mrs. McMichael, a beautiful blonde with the most lovely Southern accent Alexa had ever heard, called the class to order. She explained to the new members what the objective of that choral group was, and how this group carried the banner for the entire fine arts department, and then she announced that they'd spend the first week doing individual auditions in a small practice room to the side of the main rehearsal hall. Mrs. McMichael, or "Mrs. Mc," as her students affectionately called her, called the first student back, then told the others they could talk quietly amongst themselves or play any of the instruments in the small sunken in "pit" set up for an accompanying band to practice.

As soon as the office door was closed, the boy Bayley pointed out began lightheartedly playing the piano. Whatever Bayley had divulged about his talent, she'd vastly undersold him. Dean sat on the bench, his hands deftly dancing up and down the keys, began playing "River of Dreams" by BILLY JOEL.

"We performed that in the spring last year," Bayley explained. "Dean sang the solo and played piano. We all sang with him."

Alexa tried to downplay how impressive (and attractive) she found that. "What did you perform?" She asked, trying to sound as genuinely curious as possible.

Bayley laughed dismissively. "I played lead guitar with him. I played lead guitar with everybody. I'm not a vocal soloist. I'm mostly here because all my friends are in here and Mrs. Mc gives me an 'A' if I play."

Now Alexa was genuinely impressed. "You play lead guitar?"

Another voice from over Bayley's shoulder cut in. "Bayley fucking wails. She's hands down the best instrumentalist at this school."

The latina's face grew flushed with embarrassment. "Stop, Dana."

The buxom newcomer extended her hand to Alexa. "Dana Brooke."

Alexa's eyes squinted in thought. "I've seen you too. Softball, right?"

The thicker girl grinned in confirmation. "Yep. Open workout?"

Alexa shrugged. "Yep. That's how I've met everyone I know here so far."

Dana snickered. "Well, don't trust the impressions you gathered from summer workout. Some of these bitches are nice all summer and then one of the boys they're crushing on asks you to Homecoming instead of them and they try to fucking stab you."

Alexa raised her eyebrows. "That sounds...oddly specific."

"It is." Dana shook her head, clearly reflecting on a past incident. "Watch the bitch with the purple hair."

Bayley nodded somberly. "Sasha? Yeah. One time in middle school I got the last chili stick at lunch and she started a rumor that I liked to French kiss the janitor."

Alexa cackled, feeling comfortable for the first time that day. "Noted. Don't trust the girl with purple hair."

"She's heinous," Dana agreed. "She's two faced, but she wears the pretty one, so she's got that going for her."

All three girls chuckled. They continued their conversation as the class went on, before Dana had to "face the music" with her solo evaluation from Mrs. Mc. Dean stopped playing eventually, joining Roman and Daniel Bryan on the back row, only briefly making eye contact with the girl he hoped would soon be the object of his affection.

…

With Alexa's lunch break came a sense of abundant and abject relief. She'd arrived at the school dreading the social right of passage that was lunch hour at public high school; one misstep or rejection from potential tablemates could stick with a new student for the duration of their tenure. But once again, Bayley Martinez had saved the day, walking with Alexa from the chorus rehearsal room to the cafeteria, with Dana Brooke on the other side of the diminutive cheerleader.

And now she was surrounded by seemingly friendly students. Bayley was to her right, smiling and carrying on with a boy the latina had listed as Zack Ryder. Apparently, Zack was the son of the owner of Ryder's Pizza and Grill, the favorite local eatery of Blue River. It was also where Mickie spent random evenings and weekends hostessing part time when she wasn't cutting hair. His packed lunch was a thing of beauty, with leftover portions of several entrees boxed for him,and Alexa got the distinct feeling Dana Brooke had a lingering crush on the junior wide receiver.

Nia Jax was there, too. The absolutely captivating senior seemed at ease amongst what Alexa believed to be on of Blue River High School's "cool" tables. She was massive. There was no disputing that. Probably six feet tall and close to three hundred pounds. But she was also gorgeous. Her general countenance was fascinating to Alexa, who'd never seen someone so utterly comfortable in their own skin. She also appeared to be a fantastic athlete. She'd heard Dana refer to Nia as the "anchor" of their softball team. She was the squad's first baseman and cleanup hitter, and she was reputedly as feared on the diamond as she was on the basketball court in the winter.

There were several other students Alexa wanted to get to know slumped around the white surface. One boy introduced himself as Seth Rollins. He had stringy long black hair, and he was wearing a Megadeth t-shirt and torn jeans. A big Samoan named Roman Reigns sat across from him, and Alexa immediately sensed a bond between them. Next to Roman was a girl Alexa met over the summer at the school gym. Her name was Natalya, and based on the way her head was resting playfully on Roman's shoulder, Alexa deduced they were a committed couple.

Then, on the far side of Roman, was the devastatingly handsome boy who'd spent the last hour softly serenading his entire class.

"Damn," Alexa thought to herself. "Four hours into your first day and you can't take your eyes off of the piano playing linebacker."

Everything about that statement was a bit odd. What polar vortex had she fallen into that she'd ended up in this weird ass wonderful school where everyone was gorgeous and talented and seemingly easygoing? Alexa mused about this internally for another moment before Dana's voice cut through her train of thought.

"Oh shit," Dana muttered. The voluptuous girl snickered wryly. "I think queen bee has taken an interest in my new friend here."

Alexa's brow furrowed as she began to turn over one shoulder.

"Don't look," Bayley exclaimed. The trepidation with which Bayley and Dana spoke about Sasha gave Alexa great pause. And as he cautiously peeked over her right shoulder, she took in the exquisite yet threatening form of Sasha Banks.

She was clad in her "Raider Volleyball" t-shirt, and shorts that didn't leave a whole hell of a lot to the imagination. Her shapely legs were a clear eye catcher, and no one could deny that she was maybe the most physically attractive specimen at Blue River High.

From the second Sasha Banks laid eyes on Alexa Bliss, she hated her. As gorgeous and confident as Banks seemed, she had an insecure streak a mile wild, and this breathtaking blonde was stomping all over it.

"Hello girls!" Sasha called disingenuously, radiating an air of fake courtesy. Dana rolled her eyes in response, while Nia made a "jerkoff" motion with her hand. Bayley just hunched over, hoping not to draw the ire of the magenta-haired "it girl."

"What do you want, Sasha?" Rang a new voice. Alexa and Bayley glanced over their near shoulders, hoping to find out who was on their side. To Bayley's immense relief, and Alexa's curiosity, the girl talking down Sasha was a statuesque blonde Alexa had seen several times but hadn't officially met.

"I wasn't talking to you, Charlotte."

"Well I'm talking to you," the gorgeous girl returned. "We already warned her about you. You and your bullshit."

Dana Brooke nodded her agreement. "Yeah. We explained what kind of 'friend' you are. You never met a back you couldn't stab or a face you wouldn't lie to."

Sasha smirked, though Alexa was sure she could make out the blushing that came with confrontations of that nature.

"Please, Dana, the only thing you know about backs is that you can't stay off of yours. That's what David Otunga told me, anyway."

That name was still clearly a sore spot for the endowed blonde. She'd believed David when he told her he was in love with her, and she'd given him her virginity, no questions asked. It hadn't taken long after for Otunga to start spreading rumors throughout the school about how "easy" she was and how simple it'd been for him to add her to the list of his conquests. The stout girl slammed her hands on the lunchroom table, violence etched across her face.

"I'll fucking kill you." Dana's words came out evenly and at a low volume, sending shivers down Alexa's spine. The hurt in her new friend's eyes was apparent, leading Alexa to think that whoever this Otunga guy was, she'd been important to Dana at some point, and that that wound was still fresh, whatever it might've been.

The silent hatred boiled between the two groups of women, probably for longer than it should have.

"Fuck off, Sasha," Charlotte finally muttered.

The pink haired diva rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'm not gonna stand here and waste any more time with a 'has been', a 'never will be', and some new girl that looks like a wet mouse."

Alexa felt anger well within her when she heard Sasha call her a "wet mouse." She remembered all the abuse she endured in the eighth grade, before she filled out, and there was nothing Alexa hated more than the "mousey" rap she once had.

"Fuck off, Sasha." This time it was Dana, who stood to her feet and quickly traipsed to her side of the table, getting right in Sasha's face. "Now." The buxom blonde assumed an expression far more menacing than Alexa had seen from anyone so far that day, and it was clear that even Sasha found this a bit out of character.

"O-ok Dana," Sasha spat out, managing to create some separation between herself and the now angered Brooke. "Just calm down. We were welcoming the new girl. That's all."

"We're handling that," Bayley chimed in. "We told her all about you. How you were nice to peoples' faces and then stabbed them in the back when they did something you didn't like."

Sasha rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Bayley. I'll see you real soon." With that, the mocha-complected girl backed away from her gang of opposition and strode confidently away, joining a small clump of girls waiting for her.

In her heart, Alexa smiled. She'd had a wonderful group of close, faithful friends at her old school, and Bayley and Dana embracing her so completely almost immediately gave her another spark of hope that she wouldn't walk through this next phase of her life alone. "And," she mused to herself, "if Dean Ambrose's gorgeous ass wants to walk with me, too, I guess I'll just have to count my blessings."

…

And that's how it went for much of Alexa's first week at a new school. Dana and Bayley, her new friends, guided her through the social minefield that could be high school. Alexa went to school, excelled at cheerleading practice, and did her best to help Mickie and John at home.

Then came Thursday afternoon. She remembered after the fact that Mickie had told her she was hostessing at Ryder's that night, and John had night shift, but none of that helped Alexa in that moment. She'd forgotten to secure a ride home, and there was no walking that far after the sun sank low over the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Georgia.

Alexa let out a defeated sigh. She was severely irritated. Not at anyone who lived in her house, but at herself, for forgetting to make suitable arrangements.

"Shit," she muttered to herself, gazing at her Nokia phone. Texting was something she enjoyed, but it wasn't an exact technology yet, and so every response she got back from her Aunt Mickie was just short of making total sense. The tiny blonde gathered that it'd be impossible for her guardian to come get her, and anyone she knew well enough to ask for a ride had already departed, and so Alexa Bliss found herself in quite a pickle.

Her heart skipped a beat when she heard a gravelly voice call out to her for the first time.

"Need a ride, Tinkerbell?"

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. Bayley had given her a "head's up" about her stepbrother. Dean could be abrasive, but Alexa's new friend also told her that he could be incredibly kind. What worried Alexa was catching feelings for the unkempt linebacker.

She let out a huge sigh. "Yeah. Yeah I do. If you're going out by the railroad tracks."

She turned 180 degrees, letting her eyes confirm what her mind already knew. There he was, leaned against the concrete bench that formed a ninety degree angle on the sidewalk nearest her. The rogue-ish young man nodded his agreement.

"Yeah, yeah I am, actually. You're Alexa, right? My step-sister won't shut up about you."

The miniscule cheerleader fought against blushing with every fiber of her being. "Which one is your sister?" She called in return, already knowing the answer.

"Bayley. The huggy one." Both young people giggled at Dean's response.

"I know her. I know she left early today or I'd get a ride with her."

Dean nodded. "Yep. She has her guitar lesson today. I dunno if you heard, but she's something of a virtuoso."

Alexa returned Dean's nod with one of her own. "I did hear that. Dana told me. Is it true?"

The brunette boy shrugged. "If anything, everyone's underselling it. Bayley is a genius. In every sense of the word."

Alexa nodded again, processing the information.

Dean continued. "But enough about my stepsister. Do you need a ride?"

The miniscule blonde paused. She didn't really know Dean, but it appeared she DID need a lift home, and if Bayley liked the boy, she figured he must be okay.

Alexa looked over both shoulders, shrugging. "I guess I do."

Dean grinned and chuckled. "Then your chariot awaits, milady." He gestured toward his vehicle, which Alexa noticed appeared dusty from backwoods use.

"Just like back home," she murmured to herself.

"What?" Dean inquired, having heard the tiny girl's observation.

"Nothing," Alexa countered, clearly flustered by Dean having heard her. "Yeah, I need a ride. My aunt Mickie is working and I don't have a car."

Dean nodded, then checked his watch. He shook his head quickly.

"Fuck!" He muttered to himself. He glanced back up to Alexa. "You hungry?"

The blonde girl sighed heavily. "Why?"

Dean ran his fingers through his unruly hair. "'Cause I told Bayley I'd pick her up at Ryder's. Give her a ride home. Everyone goes on Thursdays after practice. I'm surprised no one invited you. You're all Bay talks about now."

Alexa shrugged. "They did invite me, but my aunt works there." The light bulb went off over her head in that moment. "That's where she is right now," she reminded herself, to her own great chagrin. To get a ride where she needed to be, she'd have to bow to the mercy of Dean Ambrose. Dean's perplexed look reminded her that she owed him at least fifty percent more in explanation. "I'm not sure I want to be there if my aunt's gonna make a big deal about it."

Dean nodded, pretending to accept this answer. "Well, I guess your choices are to ride with me or walk home." He tugged his keys from his pocket. Alexa noticed that he had a larger than average cluster of turnkeys on several chains, their hoops coming together in non-corresponding orbits. Seeing the expression on Alexa's face tense, Dean allowed his posture to relent while he shook his head lightly.

"Tell you what," he conceded vocally. "I can tell you're uncomfortable because you don't really know me. Fair?"

Alexa nodded, breaking her eye contact once again with the young linebacker. "There's just...a lot you don't know."

Dean snickered. "And I don't mind that. So here's how it's gonna go. We'll park at Ryder's. You go in first. That way I can watch you go in and be all gentlemanly and shit."

The waifish blonde giggled. Ambrose continued.

"Then I'll count to fifty and go in after. Then there won't be anyone that thinks we're on a date. I'll just be giving a new friend a lift. Cool?"

If Alexa's attraction to Dean had been warm before, it was flat out radiant now. He really was thoughtful. And he couldn't be self centered, since he didn't want to give any impression that he was romantically involved with the new hot blonde cheerleader. In his own little way, he was being kinder to her than anyone had in some time. She allowed herself a brief but sincere grin in return at him.

"Cool." With that, she followed him to his broken in but still very nice SUV, allowing him to open her door without commotion, and sat silently listening to the local alternative station as Dean kept his stream of consciousness chatter going at a steady pace from the school parking lot to their destination.

…..

Ryder's Bar and Grill was widely known throughout Blue River for its outstanding service, good food, and small town atmosphere. Which was good, because it was also the town's largest and longest tenured restaurant, and had long since become a favorite for students to gather following Thursday night practice, before and after sporting events, or really just any occasion that required more than about four seats at any one table. The local town council met there on the second Tuesday of every month, and they were also the only eatery within the township that served liquor. All of these factors, along with dozens of others, made Ryder's the center of the social orbit in Blue River.

Not a single one of those factors helped Alexa Bliss at that moment. She'd walked through the oak doors alone, but she was pleasantly surprised by the amount of smiling faces that greeted her upon her arrival.

The biggest smile, and most familiar face, belonged to her aunt. Mickie worked at the popular watering hole a couple of nights a week, supplementing her income as a hairstylist, and bringing in valuable funds to feed her growing family. Alexa had insisted on at least five occasions that Mickie should dip into the fund set up by the Bliss family lawyer, but her aunt steadfastly refused, repeatedly noting that that money was for Alexa to use, for things she needed both now and in the future. So instead, Mickie worked a few hours a week seating rambunctious high schoolers and families looking forward to the end of the work week. At the end of the day, that's really what Ryder's was; a place for all the citizens of Blue River to congregate, have a cold beer at the end of the day, or just take the entire family out for a hot meal prepared by folks who cared.

"Hi, sweetie," Mickie intimated softly as Alexa approached the hostess stand. "I'm SO sorry I forgot to tell you I was working here tonight. I'm still getting used to being responsible for you."

Alexa smiled warmly. She loved her mother's sister, and one lapse in memory wouldn't do anything to change that. "It's okay, Aunt Mickie. I know you didn't mean to."

After a split second, Mickie realized that her niece was at the town's most patronized restaurant on it's busiest night of the week, and that she'd apparently been invited there by a new friend.

"Who're you sitting with tonight, Lexi?"

The tiny blonde considered her options. On the one hand, she definitely did want to sit with the erratic young man who'd given her a ride to dinner, but she also didn't want to send the signal that she was more interested than she actually was. She glanced over at one of the long tables the two dozen or so students were currently perched around like some sort of double sided "last supper" portrait. Her countenance lightened considerably when Bayley waved her over, and the bright grin of Dana Brooke also set the tense new student at ease.

"I'll sit with them, Mickie," Alexa replied. Mickie, almost bursting with pride for Alexa having made new friends, led her sister's daughter toward the aforementioned table, taking the time to slide a chair next to Bayley Martinez.

Bayley jumped up, anxious to hug her new friend for at least the third time that day. The two engaged in idle small talk, while a college aged girl sauntered around the table taking orders. Against her better judgement, Alexa ordered a fried chicken sandwich with fries. It wasn't her first choice, but facing the judgemental stares of her new friends was a prospect that appealed to Alexa even less than eating something that might upset her stomach.

After another moment, Dean came sauntering in, standard sneer across his face and hands shoved in the pockets of his letter jacket. Striding smoothly past the hostess stand, Dean nodded casually at Mickie, who he'd never officially met but easily recognized, before parking his sore body into an empty chair next to Alexa. The chair had originally been occupied by Bayley, but the hugger switched places with her new blonde friend so she could sit between Alexa and Dana Brooke. What Alexa didn't know was that Bayley was also hoping that her stepbrother would take the closest open seat. He had, and that made Bayley very happy.

"Hey Dean!" She called brightly, motioning for him to come join her. She gestured toward the vacated seat on the other side of her new friend. Alexa, picking up on what Bayley was trying to do, narrowed her eyes at the latina and shook her head almost imperceptibly. Alexa found Dean insanely attractive, but she wasn't all that far removed from having the relationship she was reasonably sure was going to end in marriage and children forcibly torn from her. She'd left her precious Buddy Murphy behind in Ohio, and she'd spent the last few months trying to move on while she was in a mental institution. One of the big things her therapist had stressed to her was to not run headlong into a relationship. And as much as part of her craved male companionship in Georgia, she also knew she wouldn't be suitable at all in her affections for whoever the unlucky boy was.

Dean flashed a series of hand signals at the boy Alexa recognized as Zack Ryder, in what she assumed was some sort of indication of what he was eating. Alexa also noticed that Dean was pretending not to notice who he was sitting next to. He made small talk with Seth Rollins, who sat on the opposite side of him from Alexa, and Lex turned her body away from Dean to Bayley, who was having trouble hiding her mischievous grin from Alexa Bliss.

And that wasn't all. Alexa's aunt Mickie, who'd figured out the specifics of how Alexa had gotten to Ryder's when she saw both the look on her niece's face and Dean's, couldn't stop checking in on the long table of students. She'd dropped off waters, silverware, and small plates, and Alexa had almost successfully avoided the knowing gaze of her guardian. Finally, as the large party's food was being delivered, Alexa couldn't avoid the prying eyes of her mother's oldest sister anymore.

"He's cute!" Mickie mouthed silently, but glaring at Dean in a highly exaggerated manner, from her post over the shoulders of the student's sitting across from Alexa. The petite blonde glanced to either side of her, making sure neither neighbor caught the fairly obvious message Mickie had sent her.

"Shut up!" Was Alexa's silent response, her eyes wide in fear that someone else might've seen her silent communication. Mickie was technically Alexa's aunt, and legal guardian, but their relationship was much closer to sisters than anything else. Bliss thought she would be in trouble with the brunette mom, but Mickie just snickered in response, as if to say "yeah right, like you don't want to play tonsil hockey with him."

Right about then the food started departing the kitchen. As it was such a large order, every available staff member of the modest-sized eatery was carrying at least one serving tray. Zack began handing out plates on the opposite end of the cluster from Alexa and Bayley, and the aforementioned unknown blonde young woman who's nametag read "Taya."

Alexa got her food from Mickie. Her platter was delivered by her aunt with a shocked look, as if to say "I thought you only ate egg whites." Alexa shrugged slightly, conveying her own expression that seemed to communicate an unknown message to her kin.

Her chicken sandwich, though she hated to admit it, was exceptional. The outside was crispy and the inside juicy, and the toppings and condiments tasted fresh and possibly even home made. She noticed that Dean's double cheeseburger also smelled divine.

The festivities went on for another hour or so. Alexa ate and laughed with Bayley and Dana, and she was proud of how much of her order she'd consumed. Her always concerned aunt also beamed with pride, knowing how difficult it must've been for Alexa to just consume in front of her peers. Most of the chicken sandwich was gone, as were the vast majority of the fries, and though she felt a bit queasy, Alexa couldn't help but admit to herself that she felt like a million dollars for blending in as well as she had. No one at the long table would've known that Alexa was a recovering anorexic with serious trust issues when it came to eating in front of any crowd at all, when barely eight months ago she'd been at death's door.

Then there were her interactions with Dean Ambrose. As a woman, no matter how young, Alexa could tell when any man was interested in her. She was, however, willing to admit to herself both how hard Dean was trying to disguise his interest AND how much his interest was reciprocated. But Alexa was interested. There was no doubt there. She did well in her attempts not to fawn over the broad-shouldered boy, although Bayley and Dana had caught her glancing at his rippling muscles more than once. Rather than sell her out, however, the two girls just laughed and rolled their eyes.

After another twenty or so minutes of conversation, the checks began appearing, both from Taya and Zack. Alexa, overwhelmed by company as she might've been, noticed that Dean hadn't paid for her dinner. Which meant that her Aunt Mickie had.

She glared again at her mother's sister as she rose from her seat to corner her legal guardian. As much as she appreciated the gesture, she knew John and Mickie couldn't spare the money to pay for her meal.

"I'd like my check now," the tiny blonde intimated to her aunt.

"It's been taken care of," Mickie said, while waving her hand dismissively.

Alexa's pulse grew faster as her cherubic face grew redder.

"Aunt Mickie, please let me pay for my meal. I know you and uncle John can't afford it and I'm not gonna let Dean pay for it so-"

Bliss was cut off by Mickie's hands sliding over the outsides of her face, lightly planting her lips on the very tip of her ward's nose.

"I got you, Lex. What is family for?" Mickie asked, grinning as Alexa rushed to wipe the kiss from her immediate countenance.

Lex tried not to blush. "Thanks, Aunt Mickie. I really appreciate it."

Her aunt grinned. "Well, I was hoping that handsome boy would pay for you, but I know that things are different than when I was dating your uncle John, so I'll try to 'be cool,' like you told me the other day."

Alexa rolled her eyes at her aunt's suppositions about the state of her interactions with Dean. Other than a very polite small talk session with him in the car, during which time he'd revealed that his absolute favorite band was Rage Against the Machine and that his relationship with Sasha Banks had made him listen to the angry music more than he ever had before.

"He's very cute, Aunt Mickie, but I'm not sure I'm ready for anything after Buddy…"

Mickie waved her hand, trying not to appear dismissive. "Lex, I'm not saying you should jump in head over heels with this boy. But he's cute and he seems sweet and he's always polite when I see him in here. You could do worse while you're living with us." Mickie threw her hands up in faux innocence, as if to say "not my decision."

Alexa shook her head. "He's very handsome. And he has a nice singing voice. But I can't imagine being ready for dating seriously."

Mickie snickered at her ward. "Then date him not seriously."

"Aunt Mickie!" Alexa exclaimed, though she tried to maintain her hushed tone.

"What?" Mickie responded, not fully grasping what Alexa was taking from her assertion.

"I don't...do that," Alexa persisted, though her aunt wasn't sure she meant it.

"I'm not saying you should bear his children," Mickie admonished playfully, elbowing her niece ever so slightly in the ribs, "but if he asks you to dinner or the movies, you should go." Her face grew a bit more serious. "But, if you DID bear his children, his family is rich as hell, so…"

Alexa's face was borderline swelling now.

"Are you advocating a premarital teenage pregnancy, Aunt Mickie?"

The older of the two women smiled and rolled her eyes. "No. I'm advocating you having fun with a very cute boy who seems at least a little interested in you. Now go ask him to take you home."

Alexa's face turned confused. "I thought I'd get a ride home with you."

Mickie grinned back at her. "Oh no. I'll be here for at least another hour. You don't want to wait that long, do you?"

The tiny blonde figured out what her mom's sister was up to. Her piercing blue eyes narrowed. "You want me to have to get a ride home with Dean again, don't you?"

Mickie didn't answer. Instead, she just shrugged and walked away slowly. Alexa shook her head ruefully. Her aunt had played her, and done so perfectly. Instead of calling her on her nonsense, however, she simply sauntered back to her seat between Bayley and the aforementioned Ambrose, who turned toward Alexa with something of a knowing smug on his face.

"My ears are burning. You talking about me?"

This remark was as forward as Dean Ambrose had even considered being toward Alexa Bliss during their very brief four day friendship. But Alexa, in that moment, decided the best course of action was to fight fire with fire.

"You wish. My aunt was telling me she was gonna be here a little later than I'd like to be out. Do you mind dropping me off at home?"

Dean nodded. He'd extended his arm around the back of Alexa's chair while she'd been talking to Aunt Mickie at the hostess stand, and neither of the two youths failed to notice that his appendage had gone nowhere since she'd returned to her perch.

"As long as your house isn't too far out of the way," Ambrose returned, a haughty tone in his voice. He was smiling wide, betraying his lighthearted intent, and all at once Alexa felt comfortable enough with the handsome classmate to joke back.

"I'm not sure I want you knowing where my house is at all," she countered, raising her eyebrows as if to say "try me, smart guy."

Dean shrugged, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his letterman's jacket. "I'll be happy to drop you off anywhere in town and let you walk your midget ass to your aunt Mickie's. Also, I already know exactly where that is, because this is a small town Georgia and everyone knows where everyone lives, so you may as well come with me."

Alexa snickered. Dan had a point, but that didn't mean Alexa had to like it. She rolled her eyes, a gesture she found she was employing more and more around Ambrose, before gesturing toward the front door of the restaurant in an exaggerated manner.

"After you, " Alexa quipped playfully.

"No, I insist," Ambrose returned. Behind them, Bayley and Dana exchanged a knowing smirk. Bayley had told her blonde friend that she was almost certain her stepbrother would be after the waifish cheerleader sooner than later, but even she was impressed at how polite and gentlemanly her sometimes impudish sibling was being.

Eventually, the small group of high schoolers giggled as they headed to the parking lot. As much as she tried to deny it, Alexa's vulnerability meter didn't seem to register when it came to the prodigiously talented Ambrose, and deep down, she sensed the she could trust the wild-haired musician to serve her own best interest.

…..

As they made their way to the parking lot, however, only one thing was on Dean Ambrose's mind; the whereabouts of quarterback Mike Mizanin. "The Miz," as he was commonly known, was normally the center of attention during their Thursday night dinner summits. This week, however, the brash southpaw had bigger and better things on his mind. Well, one thing; Maryse Oullette. The stunningly beautiful French-Canadian had finally agreed to "go off" with the dynamic Senior signal-caller, after several weeks of dating, and the two now found themselves locked in a steamy makeout session, Mike's Mercury Cougar sports car parked in a secluded corner of Lake Lanier, the large man made body of water that the town of Blue River sat nestled against. After several more minutes of "tonsil hockey," Maryse broke their lustful embrace.

"Mike, you are too much for me, I think," she cooed seductively, giggling as she stared into his eyes.

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Mizanin returned, his voice full of false bravado. Deep down, his heart fluttered. Maryse was the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on, and as he was having this conversation with himself, she was leaning in to kiss him on the neck and cheek.

"I'm sure you do, Mike," Maryse fired back, her hands wandering around Mike's lap. "You know, though, we Quebecers consider ourselves as much French as Canadian. You have heard this, yes?" Her speech was persistently accented by her lovely accent, and that fact absolutely drove Mike insane.

"Yes, I have," Mizanin volleyed, unsure where his girlfriend was headed with her line of conversation.

"Well, allow me to demonstrate one of the French's finest innovations," Maryse grinned, her hands meeting at Mike's belt buckle. She began undoing the button to his khaki shorts, while Mizanin stuttered and blushed. He'd never been with a girl as forward as Maryse, and now he was just trying desperately to maintain composure as her lips found his member. After a brief teasing moment, Maryse turned to look at her paramour.

"Fellatio is one of the calling cards of the French," she intimated, before resuming her activity. For several glorious minutes, her perfectly manicured blonde head bobbed up and down in Mike's lap. For his part, Mizanin simply leaned his seat further back and enjoyed what was happening.

Which is why neither of the teenage lovebirds noticed the shadowy figure approaching Mike's car from the passenger side. As Mike neared his climax, his senses were all at once violated by the loud CRACK of gunfire, as the back of Maryse's head simply exploded all over the young man. Barely a second later, Mike felt the offending bullet penetrate his body dangerously close to his sex organs, causing Mizanin to scream as loudly as he ever had. After only a second or two, a second shot rang out, turning the skull of Blue River High's reigning offensive player of the year into a jigsaw puzzle covered in brain matter. Mike was dead before he finished sitting up in shock at the sudden demise of his seatmate.

Checking over both shoulders to make sure no one was aware of the shocking tragedy that'd just occurred, the masked figure opened the deceased's driver's side door, disengaging the parking brake and posing the two high school students' bodies in a less provocative position. Finally, the murderous silhouette roughly shoved the small vehicle, causing it to roll downhill toward the massive body of water that represented a simpler time for both of the victims. The unknown assailant watched, cruel sneer across his face, as the Cougar, along with both occupants, sank benignly into the glassy blue oblivion of the state's largest body of water.

This is just a pilot. Do not expect another update for at least a month. Then you will get several.

Review.