When Angelina wouldn't talk to her because she cost her the tag titles, she sobbed.
After she thought Angelina had finally forgiven her, only to be left alone when Angelina chose Winter over her for a tag match, she sobbed.
Once she got back to the locker room after getting her ass kicked by Sarita and Rosita, where Angelina did nothing, just stood there and watched before leaving her there alone, she sobbed.
Velvet was tired of sobbing. She was tired of her best friend making her sob. Velvet never cried. Never. But lately, it seemed as though crying was the only thing she did. She would lock herself in her locker room (which used to be hers and Angelina's, but Angelina had recently been sharing with Winter instead) and just cry, sometimes for only a few minutes, occasionally for an hour or so.
It was that upcoming Friday night where Velvet couldn't wait until she was alone to burst into tears, but instead had a little public outburst. She was at a nice club in Los Angeles. Her and Angelina used to meet there the last Friday of every month for girls night. But, Angelina hadn't showed up. Of course not. She was probably at another club in another state with that fucking Winter. God, Velvet really hated her. She was tearing her and her best friend apart.
The blonde knockout tried to cover her tears the best she could. She was sitting at the end of the bar, her face in her hands, her drink untouched before her.
"Um... are you alright?"
Velvet looked up to see a man who looked vaguely familiar to her sliding onto the stool next to her.
"I'm wonderful," she said, her tone clearly sarcastic.
"Ah, so those are happy tears?" he questioned with a grin.
"Yes," Velvet replied, looking away from him and his piercing blue eyes, and down at her beer.
He shook his head slowly. "So, why are you so... um, happy?"
"My best friend's being a complete and total bitch."
"I see..." he said. He turned to her and flashed a stunning smile. "Let me buy you a drink. I'm not good at being comforting or anything."
Velvet rolled her eyes. "I don't want your sympathy..." she trailed off, realizing she didn't even know his name. God, he looked so familiar. Why couldn't she figure out who he was?
"Mike," he filled in the blank for him.
Shit. Mike Mizanin. The Miz. The WWE Champion. WWE. Enemy company. She'd promised never to interact with men from that company again and now here was the champion, offering to buy her a drink and trying to make her feel better.
"Jamie," she replied after a moment, giving him her own name. "But, uh, everyone calls me Velvet. And like I was saying, I don't want your sympathy, Mike. I'd actually prefer if you leave me alone."
"See, you say that..." Mike started. "But, I don't believe you. When I'm upset, I'm an asshole to everyone and tell them to go away, but I really want them there for me. So, I'm not leaving. Sorry."
"I don't even know you," she said simply.
"Sure you do!" he exclaimed, smiling brightly. "I'm Mike."
Velvet laughed softly, looking down as she shook her head.
"Ah, there we go. There's a smile. Now, let me buy you drink."
"I already have one," she said, nodding to her full mug of beer in front of her.
Reaching over and grabbing it, he sighed. "Yeah, but it's warm and chances are you've cried in it, and I just don't think it's good anymore," he said, then to the bartender, "Can we get a fresh beer here, please? Thanks."
Velvet looked at Mike with a smile. He turned to meet her eyes and laughed softly.
"What?"
"I just don't understand why you're being so nice to a complete stranger, that's all."
"Why wouldn't I be?" he responded as the bartender brought over a fresh beer, sliding it over to Velvet.
The blonde cupped it with both hands and lifted it up, not quite to her lips, hesitating before speaking. "Thanks," she said, wearing a small smile before taking a drink.
"Anytime, Velvet... anytime."