Amy hadn't quite been feeling like herself for the last couple of weeks, ever since her second encounter with Adam.  While she would normally be feeling fairly peppy and happy, she was beginning to feel quite the opposite.

She didn't understand it.  She had never meant for that second time to happen - not that she'd ever intended for the first encounter to, either.  She and Adam just didn't like each other, never had.  And Amy believed they never would.

Despite all that, this terrible hollow feeling had stayed with the redhead ever since the last time.  When she had asked Adam to leave, she had closed her eyes, hoping blessed sleep would enable her to escape the turmoil inside of her - but it hadn't.  Not only had it taken her a long time to fall asleep that night, but once she had drifted off, she'd experienced dream after dream of the tall blond Canadian man.  He had touched her as he had while she'd been awake - but he had berated her, cursed her, been downright cruel.  Although she'd never had a fondness for him, it had hurt her badly when, in one of her dreams, Adam had issued to her the following monologue: "You are nothing but a good, quick fuck to me.  You're a slut, and that's the way you should be treated.  Why would any man ever want you, other than for a good lay?"

Amy had awakened from that dream with tears on her face.  Another dream that had her very upset involved Trish Stratus, the diva she had once considered a close friend.  It was obvious that Adam really wanted her, and in one of the dreams, the tall blond fucked Trish right in front of her.  That is, in this dream, Amy would be in another room somewhere and would hear sounds coming from the next - obvious sex noises - and for some odd reason, she would walk into that room to investigate, catching Adam and Trish rolling around on the floor in the act.  But it wasn't that simple - Adam would actually look up to see her, but instead of giving a damn about the look of hurt in her eyes, he would just ignore her and continue banging away.

She had to snap out of it.  Why would anything or anyone Adam Copeland did or didn't do bother her?  Why should it?  But for some strange reason, it suddenly did.  It cut her to the quick that, after they had slept together twice, she was obviously nothing more than a toy to him, to be used for his own amusement, when he felt like playing.  Damn it, she was not that type of girl - and she wouldn't be anyone's whore!

Amy stood at a mirror in the women's locker room, examining her hair and makeup for her upcoming match against Dean Malenko.  She was actually grateful for what would transpire during and after the match, hoping it would take her mind off of her troubles.

She looked up, still facing the mirror when, a moment later, Trish entered the locker room, accompanied by Lillian Garcia.  The two blondes, good friends, giggled, obviously engaged in a deep conversation.  Amy discreetly kept her eye on Trish as the Canadian diva put her bag down on the floor in front of her locker.

"Yeah, so Adam took me out again last night," she announced in a not-so-soft voice.

"Oh, how nice!" Lillian said enthusiastically.  "You're a lucky girl - he's so gorgeous...very dreamy."  She smiled.

Amy's ears perked, and she quickly shifted her eyes off of Trish and onto her own reflection when she suddenly noticed the little blonde looking over her shoulder at her.  She again turned her attention to her hair, pushing strands into place.  She knew Trish must be onto her, as she wasn't the best at subtlety.

"You got that right, Lil," Trish said with a wink.  "And oh...you should feel his pecs!  I just love a man who's hard!"

At this point, Amy's ears were practically burning.  She bit her lip in an attempt to prevent herself from letting the petite blonde have it.

Both Lillian and Trish laughed after a beat.  "Oh, my God!  I swear, I didn't mean it that way!"  The Canadian raised a hand to her mouth as she giggled nearly uncontrollably.

"Right...sure you didn't mean it that way!" the ring announcer teased with a laugh.  She reached over and playfully swatted her friend on the shoulder.  "You are just too much, girl!  But I bet you'll be getting plenty."

"Oh, yeah...I plan on that."

Through the mirror, Amy saw Trish wink, and her rage built up so much that she suddenly realized what a pressure cooker must feel like.  She had to get out of there.  She couldn't take anymore of this garbage.  Haphazardly tossing her eyeliner pencil on the vanity in front of which she stood, the redhead spun on her heel and fled the room.

When she was gone, Trish and Lillian both stared toward the door.  "God, she looked really annoyed," Lillian said.

"You don't say," Trish replied, her smile disappearing and being replaced by a frown.  "She's seemed so unhappy lately.  I...I'm thinking of telling Adam I'm not going to do this anymore."  She shook her head as the other blonde gently laid a hand on her shoulder.

*

Fifteen minutes later, Amy was standing just outside the door to Matt and Jeff Hardy's locker room, reflecting over what she'd just overheard in the women's locker room.  She was still furious, but she felt even more hurt, and she felt as though she might cry at any moment.  But she couldn't do that, or she would mess up her makeup, and she was on in a few minutes.

"Ames?  What's wrong?"  The concerned voice of Jeff penetrated her thoughts.  She'd been so consumed with everything that had just occurred that she hadn't even heard the door of their locker room open.  She looked up into Jeff's kind, concerned face, his brilliant green eyes unwavering as he gazed down at her.  Right behind him stood Matt.

"Nothing...nothing," she replied, hating herself for lying to him.  The truth was, she wanted to confide in Jeff - had wanted to for the last few weeks since she'd begun feeling this way, but she was afraid of Matt finding out.  And although the darker Hardy was also one of her best friends, he was way too judgmental - too big brothery, and that was something she just didn't need right now.

"Are you sure?"  Jeff hooked a thumb underneath the redhead's chin, tipping her head up slightly so that her eyes met his.  "You look sort of depressed."

She gently but firmly pushed his hand away from her face.  "I'm fine, Jeff."  She glanced over at Matt, who was also studying her.

"No, really...what's wrong?" the elder brother questioned.  A slight look of suspicion crossed his handsome features.

"Nothing!" she insisted, raising her voice angrily.  "Come on...my match is in the next couple of minutes."

The three of them walked toward the curtain leading to the arena without a word.  They were silent until Matt decided to press the issue.

"Ames, what's going on?  Does this have something to do with a guy?"

Amy bit her lip.  These two men had always been able to see right through her.  They knew her like a book, particularly Matt, whom, unlike his brother, had not a naive bone in his body.  There was no way she could pull the wool over his eyes.

"Matt, it's...it's nothing," the diva said, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose.  Why couldn't he just leave well enough alone?

"Bullshit!  Something's going on, and I wanna know what it is...if some jerk has hurt you, I wanna know who it is so I can take him apart!" the dark-haired man insisted, his face angry, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

"I said it's nothing!  Now, I don't care if you believe me or not, but you're going to leave me alone, Matthew Hardy!" Amy shouted, not caring that Jeff was standing right there between the two of them, or that other people were walking through the hallway nearby.

Matt pressed his lips together, holding his tongue.  He knew better than to continue pushing the redhead.  They'd been through something like this once before, and she had been so angry that she hadn't spoken to him for an entire month.  He didn't want that to happen again.

*

Adam chuckled to himself as he watched the scene unfold backstage on the TV monitor in his and Jay's locker room.  Lita defeated Dean Malenko with the help of Matt Hardy, who so obviously wanted to get into her pants.  But he took pride in the fact that, unlike the darker Hardy Boy, he himself had gotten that opportunity twice.

He sat up a little straighter as he witnessed the kiss the dark-haired man planted on the redhead's lips.  Then, a moment later, when she followed Matt, who had left the ring and started up the ramp, she grabbed him and turned him around - kissing him even more fervently than he had kissed her.

"What a skank!"

Jay turned toward his best friend upon hearing the words he'd just uttered.  "Hey, watch it, Adam!" he said with annoyance.  "That's what she's supposed to do.  And I don't think it makes her a skank."

"Whatever, man," the taller blond said.  "I'm out of here - I have better things to do with my time than look at that."  He gestured toward the TV with disgust as he stood up, then walked out of the room.

When he was out in the hallway, alone, Adam's facial expression changed.  The truth was, although he hadn't enjoyed what he'd just witnessed, it wasn't for the reason Jay believed.  He pushed his long hair back as he started down the hallway.  Since he didn't have a match scheduled for the night, he decided to get out of there and head back to the hotel.  He didn't feel much like sticking around.  But before he left, he had one quick stop to make.

*

"Trish?"  Adam stuck his head in the doorway of the women's locker room when Ivory had opened the door.  The brunette stepped past him and said, "She's here..."

The tall blond man stepped into the room, happily noting that his diva friend and fellow Canadian was now alone.  "I need to talk to you."

"What do you want, Adam?" Trish asked.  He noted that she didn't look all that happy to see him.

"I need you to do me one more favor tonight," he replied.  "This is what we'll do-"

"I'm not going to do it," the petite blonde said, interrupting him.  As Adam stared at her in surprise and disappointment, she began to pace the length of the small room.  "Not...not tonight.  No more tonight, okay?" she said almost pleadingly.

"What do you mean?  Why not?" Adam questioned, moving closer to her.

"I can't...Adam," Trish said firmly, stopping her pacing to look up into his green eyes, "I think you've gotten your answer...she's been so depressed lately, and I think your little game has gone too far.  I can't keep contributing to her being hurt like that."  The young woman winced and added, "She hasn't spoken two words to me tonight - and I think we both know why."

Adam ran his hand quickly through his long blond hair.  "But-"

"No, Adam...maybe another time, when I don't feel so lousy myself...but I'm not going to do that to Amy anymore tonight."  She looked toward the door, then shifted her brown eyes back on him.  "I think you should leave," she said evenly.  "Amy will probably be back here any minute, seeing as her match just ended."

Adam nodded wordlessly, his eyes serious as he continued to stare at the blonde.  A moment later, he left - just in time to avoid running into the redhead.

*

Amy sighed as she lay on her hotel room bed, the television set droning softly in the background.  She just wanted to forget everything that had happened in the last three months, but she knew that wouldn't happen.

She had thought that the storyline in which she and Matt had been involved tonight would distract her, but it hadn't.  And then, much to her chagrin, when she'd gone after Matt to kiss him, when she had closed her eyes and done so, the man whom she was so desperate to forget had been on her mind - she had imagined it was Adam she was kissing - which was why she had gotten a little carried away with Matt and had used a little tongue.

Damn it! she thought.  Three months ago - even two months ago, she'd basically been fine.  But then Adam Copeland had to get under her skin in a way he hadn't done before - and she had somehow managed to go and fall in love with him.

She shuddered at the thought of that - her, Amy Dumas, in love with Adam Copeland.  If she wasn't feeling so depressed, she would have laughed her ass off.  She slid her left arm underneath the pillow upon which her head lay, clinging to it desperately, cursing herself for having been so vulnerable.

Amy looked up a moment later when a knocking sounded at her door.  She hoped the person would just go away, but they didn't.  Instead, the knocking got even louder and more urgent.  Rolling her eyes, she rose from the bed and answered it.

Her breath initially caught in her throat as she saw Adam standing in the doorway, looking down at her with a serious expression on his face.  As he continued to silently study her, his lips curled into an arrogant smirk.

Amy rolled her eyes and turned around to go back into her room.  Without shutting the door in the blond man's face for a change, she simply returned to the bed and lay back down on it.

Adam stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him, then stood there and watched her.  He was suddenly furious, as the image of her kissing Matt earlier that night ran through his memory.

"You know what?  You are such a skank...such a nasty skank!"

The redhead raised her eyes in the man's direction.  So, her bad dreams were actually becoming reality after all?  She looked back down in a desperate attempt to drown out the sight of him - and the scorn in his voice, and any further cruelties he might hurl at her.

"What's the matter?  No quick comebacks this time?" Adam taunted as he moved closer to her bed.

Amy suddenly sat up and stared at him.  "Would you just leave me alone?"

"No!  Why should I?  Why don't you just answer this question - what kind of skank are you?"  His emerald eyes glittered angrily.

The diva suddenly became enraged as she continued to listen to him, and at the look on his face.  Who the fuck did he think he was?

"I am not a skank!" she shouted, pointing at him.  "I would think you would be an expert on knowing who is one, though - since you've been fucking Trish Stratus - I may not be a skank, but she certainly is!"

The Canadian's face again transformed to an amused smirk as he listened to her angry tirade.  He crossed his arms over his chest as he moved even closer to her.

"Why are you here, Adam?  What do you want from me?  What???  Is Trish not enough for you?"

"Ah," he said, a genuine grin present on his handsome face for the first time since he'd entered her room, "now you're getting it!  The skank's pretty perceptive, isn't she?"

Amy suddenly flung herself at him, using all of her body weight, which, surprisingly, knocked them both to the floor.  "I am not a skank!  Stop calling me that, you asshole!"  Her face was furious as she punched him in the chest.  "You bastard!"

"Ow!" Adam exclaimed as she yanked on his long blond hair with one hand and continued to pummel at his chest with the other.  He became shocked as the redhead abruptly burst into tears, her hands stopping their violence in the process.  He'd never expected her to cry, and, knowing that he alone had caused it, felt rotten.

"Ames?"  He reached up and gently stroked her long red hair.  She didn't respond and kept her face buried in her hands for a beat before letting her head fall down to his chest, and she continued to weep.

The tall blond was acutely aware of the fact that the woman was actually straddling him, and whether he liked it or not given the situation, he found himself growing hard against her.  Damn it, but he wanted her again.

"Ames?  Are you okay?"  This time, his voice was tender as he gently lifted her head with one hand.  Her tearstained face looked sadder than tragedy as she gazed down at him, her hazel eyes bloodshot.  He felt like shit that he had caused her so much misery.  "I'm sorry," he said softly, gently stroking her cheek.

Amy continued to gaze down at him, her sobbing slowly abating.  Then, to the blond man's surprise, she lowered her head down to his and began to kiss him.  He kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her waist to draw her tightly against him.

Adam found himself nearly breathless with the intensity of the kiss, and he throbbed against her, pressing almost painfully into the zipper of his jeans.  Before he knew what was happening, they were undressing each other, and the diva lowered herself on him, riding him slowly at first and eliciting a sigh of relief from him.

The TV continued to drone on softly as the blond Canadian gripped the redhead by the waist, quickening the pace.  She cried out softly above him as she came, and he let out a moan as he let go inside of her.  He pulled her down to him, seeking her lips as it seemed to go on and on.

After a few minutes, they moved to the bed, and they lay there, side-by-side, for a good twenty or thirty minutes without a word.  The next thing Adam knew, Amy was on him again, kissing him and touching him.  He chuckled, knowing she wanted more, and he was more than happy to oblige.  And this time, he stayed the entire night.