A/N: Thought I'd try something new! This is for Eiris Hales, who correctly guessed the Superstar in my "Cold Veangeance" oneshot. Most of you actually guessed correctly (it was Evan Bourne, by the way), but she guessed first, so congratulations!
It's my first time writing Miz and Maryse, let alone as a pairing, so I hope I did okay. Be brutal if you want to, and enjoy!
Maryse just couldn't be bothered to make idle chat with people she couldn't stand. It was nothing personal, they hadn't antagonized her in any way…the simple fact was that she was different than any other girl on the roster. She would nod and maybe flash a half smile if she was spoken to, but that was the extent of her interaction with the roster. The French Canadian Diva often spent time with the Bellas, and would probably count them among her closest friends if she had to, but most of the time she preferred to be alone.
A flash of light drew Maryse's attention, and she looked up from her issue of Vogue to see the former U.S. champion himself, Miz, standing there at the table in front of her. A smirk came over his face as he leaned over to get a bottle of water and an apple. Their eyes locked for the briefest moment, the man breaking the silence with a greeting.
"How's it going, Maryse?"
The blonde rolled her eyes and simply put her hand out, in her famous gesture. Miz chuckled and shook his head, clearly not surprised by the woman's behavior. He took a sip of his water and cocked his head in a contemplative matter as he studied the woman. His lips parted and he considered saying something else to Maryse, but she was absorbed in the world of fashion and haute couture and couldn't be bothered to speak. Instead, he chose to walk away, knowing that she wouldn't even notice that he was gone.
A sigh of relief escaped from the blonde's mouth as she shut her magazine and put it to the side. She almost felt sorry for Miz; it was quite clear that the boy was terribly smitten with her. But girls like her did not mix with guys like him. She was flawless; breathtakingly beautiful; the object of every man's affection, while he was…Miz. There was no other way to describe him.
Maryse couldn't stand him, in fact, she saw him a sad, pathetic loser who tragically lusted after women he would never stand a chance with, herself included. Did he actually think she was going to give him the time of day? And what was with him trying to approach her in front of people? She had a reputation to uphold, after all. Maryse couldn't risk being seen with the likes of Mike Mizanin, the one guy that everyone laughed at behind his back. He fancied himself a lady killer and claimed that everyone wanted to be in his company, but nothing could be further from the truth. Many of the guys allowed him to go out with them to the clubs because they felt sorry for him, and also because they knew the guy would make an idiot out of himself, and they would be able to have a laugh at his expense.
What a sad, pathetic little boy, Maryse thought to herself as she made her way out of the arena and the smooth, sheer black limo that was waiting for her. Perhaps she'd slip in the hotel bar and get a nightcap before bed. It was still fairly early, and although the other Superstars and Divas were planning on enjoying the local nightlife, Maryse just didn't feel up to it.
How could she reject him? Him, of all people. It befuddled the man. Calling him a loser? Who did she think she was? She was lucky that he paid attention to her, because no one else did. The other guys thought of Maryse as a tease, one who would promise pleasure but then deliver disappointment. She was a frigid bitch and wasn't even worth his time. Why did he even bother to put forth the effort to be nice to her? Maryse was selfish and only cared about one person: herself. She never even tried to be nice to everyone else; she felt like she was above them. Miz could admit that he wasn't the nicest guy either, and he had a few enemies, but he wasn't universally hated like Maryse was.
He didn't understand her. He went out of his way to be nice to her, left sweet little things like flowers and notes in an attempt to be romantic (which was totally out of character for him, or at least that's what the others would say), and for what? It wasn't worth the effort and there was absolutely no payoff. Besides, he was the Miz. He was, as he proclaimed, "awesome." He was charming, handsome, and athletic. He could have any woman he wanted.
So why did the thought of Maryse being the one that he couldn't have keep running through his mind? Why did she get under his skin, and more importantly, why did he allow her to?
All she wanted was a drink, alone, in private. At least that's what Maryse had hoped for when she'd slipped into the small, cozy hotel bar. There were a few other patrons, but the place was otherwise empty, almost barren, when she'd arrived. She had smiled at the bartender and slipped into a booth in the very back of the room, hoping that she would be left alone.
No such luck, however. The blonde was sipping on her second Cosmopolitan when Mickie James bounced in. Maryse had recognized her immediately and groaned inwardly, hoping she wouldn't be noticed. Mickie was a nice enough girl, but she annoyed Maryse with her constant cheery demeanor and her need to help everyone. And she seemed to think that she and Maryse had to be best friends because they worked together.
"Are you okay?" Mickie's soft voice questioned.
"I'm fine," the blonde responded with a toss of her hair. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to check on you. Miz is telling everyone that you approached him last night and he turned you down," Mickie stated. "So what happened?"
"First of all, Mickie, I turned him down, not the other way around," Maryse snapped. "And it's none of your business, but we just don't get along. He is, how do you say, annoying."
"I agree with you there," Mickie laughed as she slid inside of the booth and sat beside the sultra Diva. "But there's one thing I don't understand."
There are probably a lot of things that you don't understand, simple minded farm girl, Maryse thought to herself as she applied another coat of lip gloss, but she kept it in the back of her mind. She found it hard to play nice with many of the Divas, but Mickie was the hardest. She was so disgustingly cheerful that it bordered on annoying at times. And, for some reason beyond Maryse's comprehension, Mickie thought that she and Maryse were actually friends. Friends. Maryse had bitten her tongue to keep from laughing when she had heard about it. They would never be friends; they were completely different. They came from two different worlds.
Maryse sighed in exasperation but decided to indulge Mickie. She set her lip gloss down and turned to the brunette.
"And what's that, Mickie?"
Mickie cocked an eyebrow. "You two are so much alike, mirror images. I thought you'd hit it off."
Silly girl. Maryse simply shook her head at the brunette.
"Sometimes you can have too much of a good thing."
"I suppose," Mickie sighed as she stood up. The petite woman brushed off her sparkly pants and turned to Maryse, concern and worry marring her pretty features. "Are you sure you're okay? You can talk to me anytime you need to." She reached out and grabbed the blonde's hand.
Maryse frowned and pulled her hand away.
"Merci, Mickie, but I'm fine," she said breezily. "Miz is just a little boy. He does not bother me. I can deal with him."
"Well, if you're sure…" Mickie's voice trailed off and she bit her lip. "Um, okay. I'll just leave you alone now, but if you need a shoulder or an ear, let me know, okay?"
"Sure." Maryse forced a smile. She watched the woman skip off, and once she was absolutely sure she was gone, she slid down further in the booth. Maryse hadn't even been thinking of the Miz until Mickie had brought him up, but now that it was out in the open, what was she going to do? If she didn't approach Miz and say something he would continue this mission, with the flowers and the candy and the notes, and that was just simply unacceptable.
After all, she was the Sexiest of the Sexy, and he was just a lovestruck little boy. Maryse didn't have time for little boys.