What sucks about driving with your enemy is that he suddenly becomes your polar opposite, meaning:
I thought it was too hot – He thought it was too cold.
I thought the music too loud – He though it was not loud enough.
I thought I was driving perfectly fine – He thought I drove like a maniac
"You're going to get both of us killed!" He yelled as I ran another red light. I shrugged brushing it off. Mike shook his head then stared at me, "Who the hell taught you how to drive?"
"My uncle. He was a stunt man for action movies. He did many of the driving stunts. He taught me how to do almost everything you see done in action movies…I can demonstrate if you like-"
"No!" He shouted and I chuckled in response.
"Fine…" I said pulling into the hotel parking lot. As soon as I parked the car, Mike bolted out and began hugging the ground.
"Sweet land!" He cried out before kissing the asphalt. I rolled my eyes in disgust; I'm pretty sure I saw a dog pee there this morning…
"You're such a drama queen!" I groaned stepping around him and walking to the hotel. Suddenly I felt his presence next to me.
"So was your uncle really a stunt man?" He asked as we entered the hotel.
I made my way towards the elevator then replied, "Yes he was, I wasn't lying."
Mike nodded then stepped in the elevator with me. He was about to press the button of his floor but he beamed when he saw it was already lit, "Looks like were on the same floor."
"Lucky me…" I said sarcastically then stepped away from him. The elevator dinged signaling that we had arrived on our floor. I walked out of the elevator and started going to my room. 304…306…308! I yanked out my keycard then entered the hotel room and someone dashed inside.
All I saw was a male figure jumping onto my bed. I knew exactly who it was and groaned, "Get out of my room, Mizanin!" he poked his head up and shook it. I sighed closing the door. "Why?" I asked setting down my gym bag.
"Did I mention I've been hopping around from room to room this week?" He asked smiling just as he did when he tolled me he didn't have a ride to the hotel. Was he prepared for anything? Next he's going to tell me he's been barrowing someone's clothes!
I shook my head then asked, "Who said you could stay in my room?" He shrugged spreading himself out on my bed.
"Please?" He begged rising his body up. He stuck out his lower lips and pouted, "For me?" His sea blue eyes sparkled and I had to resist the urge to give in.
"Aren't there any guys you can stay with?" I asked my voice coming out more kind then before. Damn that pouty act of his! I sat down on the sofa and began unlacing my sneakers, waiting for him to respond. "And where is your luggage?" Just then there was a knock at the door. Confused, I sat up and made my way to the door. As soon as I opened the door a bellhop entered the room, rolling in luggage with him.
"Luggage for a," He paused looking for the name, "Mike Mizanin?"
"Those are mine thank you."Mike answered taking the suitcases then handing the bellhop a tip. The bellhop took it gladly then exited the room.
I just stood there mouth agape, "You're unbelievable!" I finally muttered. "How'd you know I'd let you stay or even what room I was in?" I asked shocked.
"I didn't." The blue-eyed man smirked. He started walking towards me, "But thanks for letting me stay." He brushed up against me then entered the bathroom. I groaned then flopped down on the bed.
I rolled over and decided to get out my sketchpad. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and made my way over to my suitcase. I unzipped the luggage and pulled out my sketchpad and a couple of pencils. I walked back over to the bed. I lay back down and began mindlessly drawing.
"Oh my god…" I mumbled staring at what I drew. On the once plain piece of paper there was now a pair of eyes staring back. Normally this wouldn't bother me except for the fact that I have grown to despise the man these eyes belong to.
"What is it?" Mike snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked up and there I was faced with his bare torso that was glistening from the shower he just took. Around his waist a towel hung. On one side it hung a little low as if daring to fall off. He walked towards me and took the paper. His lips curled into a smile, "This is amazing." He muttered, examining the artwork. I felt a blush creep onto my face and hopped he wouldn't notice the eyes were his. "Their very life like. Whose eyes are they?" He asked handing me back the paper.
"I'd rather not say…" I mumbled as my eyes subconsciously lingered on his body. He started looking through his suitcase and pulled out some clothing.
"Fine." He sighed putting on a white t-shirt then unfolding a pair of sweat pants. I turned around to give him some privacy. A few minutes later I felt a body next to mine on the bed. "I know those were mine." He stated bluntly. I felt my cheeks grow red.
"Oh…"That was the only word that escaped my mouth. He chuckled and smirked, "Don't be so full of yourself! I didn't mean to draw them." I snapped but he continued chuckling.
"Sure you didn't." He said sarcastically. I swatted the closest thing with in reach, which was his bicep. I sighed rolling off the bed and snatching the piece of paper. I crumpled it and then threw it at his face. "And where are you going?" He asked propping himself up on his elbows.
I grabbed some random clothing then barked, "I'm getting changed." The last thing I saw before storming off to the bathroom was his smirking expression as the wrestler trailed his eyes over the now wrinkled drawing.
I closed the bathroom door and began undressing. I pulled on a pair of sweat pants and a tank top. I brushed my long knotted hair until it was to my standards. Then I noticed I had a nasty bruise on my face from when I had been fighting with the Bellas. Great, just great.
I exited the bathroom to see Mike sprawled out on the bed trying his hand at drawing. I walked over to see what he was drawing and it was just a simple stick figure. I held back a laugh but he caught the grin on my face, "And that's why I don't draw." He explained scratching out the stick figure. I rolled my eyes then sat on the edge of the bed.
"It takes practice." I said stealing a paper and pencil. I quickly sketched a rose, something I have done so many times I can do it in my sleep.
He watched intently as the flower grew more and more life like. I quickly jotted my signature at the bottom and handed him the paper. He smiled at it then looked at me, "How's you get so good?" He asked tilting his head to the side.
"My mom wanted me to be an artist. Our house was always filled art supplies everywhere. For a while I wanted to be an artist too then learned it wasn't for me." I explained as Mike listened. Then my defense mode kicked in, "Why do you care?" I snapped.
He frowned for a moment at the anger in my voice then said, "I tolled you before; I'm not the jerk you think I am." He sat up and patted the space next to him for me to sit. I did so suspiciously. "Now how'd you go from being an artist to being a wrestler?" He inquired. Part of me wanted to trust him and part of me knew I shouldn't. He'd betrayed me before and didn't even apologize! Why should I tell him anything. However, the trusting side of me was stronger, over powering the part of me that was screaming not to talk to him.
"Well it all started when I was about 17 years old. I thought I wanted to be an artist, I had it all planned out; I'd graduate high school then go to art school in San Francisco. Once done with art school I'd move to Los Angeles and work for an interior design firm. Then one night there was nothing on but wrestling. I turned it on and I instantly became hooked. From that day on I just wanted to wrestle. I had to keep it a secret from my family though, knowing they wouldn't approve; that didn't last long though. One day I came out and told my mother and brother. They both laughed. When I said I wanted to be a wrestler my mom was obviously disappointed and gave me a 'Oh that's nice dear'. My brother thought I was a freak. I didn't even bother telling my dad. As soon as I graduated high school I packed up my things and moved out. I found a wrestling school in L.A and well that's how it happened." Not once throughout my story did he interrupt, just nodded.
"You're family didn't support you?" He asked and I shook my head no.
"Nobody did."
He nodded, "I understand how that is." I looked him in the eyes. I knew exactly what he was talking about too; no one supported him either. Although he has never told me that, I knew it. He was one of my heroes after all, I knew many things about it. I would never tell him though, didn't want to seem like a creep.
"Really?" I asked and he nodded again.
"My story's similar to yours…But I'm sure you've heard it, you are a fan after all." He smirked knowingly.
I gulped, "What?" I asked fear and alarm heavily present in my voice. He just simply gestured to my sketchbook, one I've had since my 19 birthday. My mom got it for me in hopes I'd change my mind about wanting to be a wrestler. I flipped through a couple of my earlier sketches looking for what could have tipped him off. Then I came across the horror.
On the page inside a heart were the words 'Alice loves The Miz' my eyes just about popped out of my skull. I tore out the sketch and was just about to crumple it but he snatched the drawing away. "If it makes you feel any better I thought it was cute." He whispered, his lips extremely close to my ear. Against my wishes goose bumps rose to my skin.
"Do you have any manners? You can't just look through someone's personal stuff!" I groaned taking my sketchbook and retreating to the couch. "I don't even know why I used to be a fan."
"Because I'm The Miz and I'm awesome." A smirk played on his lips. I rolled my eyes and tried to get comfortable on the couch. Finally finding a position that was suitable I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. I felt a blanket being wrapped around me and a soft, "Sweet dreams Alice."
I was out like a light.
A/N: I was surprised at how many reviews the last chapter got, you guys make me so proud lol :D! Anyways like always I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Keep on Reading and Reviewing.