A/N: Ellie, I am such a big fat failure turtle, and never has my pen name described me so well. I had one story typed out, but decided I didn't like it, and I had this written in my notebook for a while. I know I said a one shot, but it will be too long for that, and I don't like posting really long one shots. I am so sorry for the wait, and thanks again for the magazine!

You would never expect Mike Mizanin to be the good guy.

So sweet.

So genuine.

So...boring.

Sarah wanted the Miz so badly when she first came on the scene as a WWE Diva. Who wouldn't want him? He was dangerous, cunning, and smart. If he had tattoos, he would be the ultimate bad boy.

Be careful what you wish for.

Sarah got Miz, alright. She got him, and she got him good. But Sarah made the cardinal mistake of professional wrestling: she forgot how to distinguish between real life and kayfabe. She didn't get the Miz that she so wrongfully coveted. She got Mike.

He held doors open for her. He bought her flowers. He always asked Sarah for her opinion on everything. She didn't have to fight for his attention. It was too easy.

A normal grown up woman would have appreciated such gestures. Unfortunately for Sarah, she still had not come to the point that every woman eventually comes to in their lives: they realize that 'bad boys' are complete dicks and they need to settle for a nice gentleman. But Sarah had too much fun playing the field. 'Hit it and quit it' was her motto of choice. So when she finally got what she wanted, there was no more fun to be had. It was all about the chase. She blamed it on the age difference. Mike was eight years older than her, and Sarah still hadn't moved out of her parents' basement.

*knock*

Sarah tugged at the designer dress that Maryse let her borrow.

"He's here," Maryse announced in her beautiful accent.

Sarah was shaking in her black stilettos. If Maryse wasn't in the hotel room with her, she would have torn out her elegant hairstyle that she wore her auburn hair in and smeared her makeup, all to fake sick and not go on her date with Mike.

The French Canadian siren shook her head. "Oh, he makes you nervous? That's so precious. I understand completely," she teased. "I'll answer the door, then. I don't want you breaking a heel and ripping my dress." Even though Maryse and Mike had previously been in a long term relationship, they managed to be friends. They genuinely had a legit friendship.

"Hey, Maryse," Mike smiled. "Is Sarah here? Or did she get ready with Melina?"

Sarah's insides churned. It wasn't the normal butterflies that a girl would expect to get before a date with their boyfriend. It was a bad feeling. Sarah honestly felt that she would throw up if she saw Mike.

"She's right here," Maryse responded. She turned to look at Sarah.

"I just have to grab a few things," Sarah lied. "I'll meet you at the elevator."

Mike nodded. "I suppose I've waited thirty years to meet you. Five minutes won't kill me. But don't keep me waiting too long, sweetheart." Mike finished his perfect little spiel with a wink of his baby blues before disappearing from view.

Sarah held in a disgusted groan. Composing herself, she picked up the small clutch that was also borrowed from Maryse. She took one step towards the door. When she didn't fall on her face, she continued walking to the door. However, she didn't see the strange look that Maryse was giving her. Once she reached the threshold, Maryse's perfectly manicured hand landed on her bare shoulder, holding her back.

"If you hurt him, I will kill you."