Welcome to the Queendom

Chapter Thirty-Four

I glared at him.
"What's with the expression, Ms. Renee?" Heyman asked smugly. "Did you like our statement of Mr. Taker's WrestleMania streak?"
"Have I ever told you I hated you?" I replied.
He tapped his chin with his index finger, actually thinking. "You've called me pathetic before, but I don't think the revelation of your hatred towards me has surfaced, no."
I patted his shoulder. "Keep reading that SATs book, Paul," I told him before walking away.
As I was making my way down the hall, I heard a very familiar voice. "Jonny Cakes, I've missed you so much!"
I turned a corner and saw Madison pressing herself up against Dean and his face didn't register anything. Anger, disgust, uncomfortableness, nothing. I stood there and watched what was going to happen next, the wall obscuring everything except my eyes.
"Madison," Dean said. "What are you doing here?"
"I just wanted to come and say congratulations on your win last night. I knew you were gonna do it." She gripped onto his shirt and beamed up at him.
Dean opened his mouth, about to say something but shut it again and looked around, I quickly ducked behind the wall before he could see me. When I peeked around the corner again, Madison's face was inching towards Dean, him having no where to go unless he pushed Madison away, but he and I knew he wasn't going to actually do it. Before anyone could move, Madison grabbed the sides of Dean's face and kissed him. He grabbed her waist and tried to push her away but eventually gave up.
She finally broke free and smiled at him. "I knew you still had feelings for me," she stated. "And to think that you got your rebound from a girl like Kelsey."
"Chelsea," he corrected in monotone.
"Whatever."
"Madison....." he trailed off, apparently not knowing what to say, but Madison wasn't listening anyways. She had dug around her purse for a tube of lip gloss and was smearing it on her lips as she looked into a compact mirror. After she was done, she dropped both items in her purse and gave Dean a kiss on the cheek.
"Call me," she said before skipping down the hall.
Dean stayed on the wall for a few moments, letting what happened sink in. I walked out from behind the wall and stared at him, not making any movement forward. He sensed a presence and looked up and when he saw who it was, he paled.
"C-Chelsea," he stuttered. "That-"
"You and Madison, huh?" I stated. "That's good. I'm really happy for you."
Dean shook his head but didn't deny it verbally.
"You should've brought her to the Hall of Fame ceremony," I stated conversationally as if I wasn't phased by what had just happened. In all honesty, a piece of my heart was breaking for each second that passed. I don't know if it was pride, but under no matter how badly I was hurting, I refused to let him see it on the outside.
I shouldn't feel this way, though. He said he wasn't gonna wait around forever and I kept him waiting. Guys were the most impatient beings. And Dean just proved that true. Dean looked at me as if he couldn't believe what I was saying.
"But," he said, "I wanted to go with you."
"Wanted," I pointed out. "But that was the past." I sighed as I smiled down the hall that Madison walked down moments before. "Dean and Madison," I said and nodded. "Has a nice ring to it."
"Chelsea?" he asked, shaking his head. "What are you trying to say?"
"What do you mean?" I questioned, tilting my head. "I'm just trying to say congratulations. That's what a good and true friend would say, right?"
He raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. I guess because he couldn't form the words to say, so, I decided to save him and walked away.
The hall was surprisingly quiet as I made my way down it toward my locker room. I could even hear the click of the pieces of my heart going back into place. When it came to disappointment and heartbreak, I wasn't your normal kind of girl. I had learned that throughout my life. Whenever something or someone happened that disappointed me, broke my heart, or both, I was engulfed in a wave of calmness. At first I would be hit with the feelings head-on to a point where I was close to bursting into the tears, but that quickly subsided and I didn't feel anything anymore. At first I thought something was wrong with me, but Chalice quickly took care of that.
"A lot of people are different in a lot of ways," she had said. "Especially when it comes to emotions. That's why individuals shouldn't generalize groups of people when it comes to emotions and such. You have your own way of reacting to bad things. It not weird and it's not a bad thing. If anything, people should act more like you."
I remember that day like it was yesterday. I had broken up with my boyfriend-the first one my mom actually let me have-and I was in my bedroom that Chalice and I shared watching TV. She was reading a book on her bed when I noted on my abnormal reaction to the break up. She shrugged and explained it to me before Mom walked into the room and wrapped her left hand with gauze. She had busted it when she punched my boyfriend in the face.
When the show ended, I immediately went back to the hotel, my phone turned off, while the other superstars and divas stayed out, enjoying a post-WrestleMania celebration at the club down the street.
After taking a 20 minute shower, I rewrapped my ankle with the clear gauze and sat on the couch, clicking the TV on.
No one had work tomorrow which I was happy about because I came across a lot of late night movies on different channels: old Fast and Furious movies, the old and new versions of Karate Kid, Ghost Rider and The Color Purple off of the BET channel. Movies Chalice would have loved to see if she didn't have school in the morning.
By the time The Color Purple went off, I was under a throw blanket still on the couch, flipping to the Nick at Nite channel where The Fresh Prince of Bel Air was playing.

When I woke up it was 3 in the morning, an hour later, and The Bellas still weren't back. My phone was vibrating on the coffee table for a few moments before it stopped, putting whoever had called to voicemail. I looked at the notifications and saw that I had 3 missed calls from Dean. I bit my lip before listening to the voicemails he gave me.
The first one was as soon as I stepped into my room:
"Hey, Chelsea. I really wanna talk to you about what went down tonight. Talk to me soon."
The second one was an hour later:
"Hey, Chelsea. Everyone's at this place called Blue Nile, celebrating. You should come down here. I know it's not the best place to talk, but I just really need to speak with you."
The third one which was 30 minutes ago, was drinker than the last two:
"Hey Chelsea." He laughed at something that someone said in the background. "Don't make me come to your hotel room." There was a loud bang and he swore. "Hey, bartender, can I get another beer?"
I removed my phone from my ear, shaking my head. Typical Dean.