im-just-here2007

[im-just-here2007]

First Glance

Blood, sweat, and tears.

These three things are deeply ingrained in a wrestler’s life. Despite many people believing that any wrestling under a big company such as WWE isn’t real, every wrestler on the roster has shed blood in the ring. They often leave the ring with broken bones, cracked ribs, and bodies covered in bruises. Every day, they sacrifice themselves for the entertainment of others.

Just a few minutes in the ring leaves them breathless and drenched in sweat. The sweat often makes the ring slippery, causing wrestlers to slip and fall, botching moves. It also makes opponents harder to grab, leading to more mistakes. Those weren't allowed mistakes. The audience isn’t too fond of slip-ups, no matter how harmless they are. Perfection is key in the ring. One slip-up could lead to ridicule from thousands of viewers, many of whom watch solely for the pleasure of seeing a wrestler’s body get battered. They cheer when bodies slam against the mat, when heads collide with steel steps, or when fists land with brutal precision.

Tears are proof that a wrestler is doing their job well, and many fans relish seeing them cry out in pain. Yet, strangely enough, most of a wrestler’s tears don’t fall during a match; most tears are shed behind the curtain.

Mia’s head hit the mat with a brutal snap, the impact so jarring it sent a sharp, electric jolt down her spine. Her neck whipped back violently, and for a moment, the world spun out of control. Her vision blurred, the edges of her sight dimming with a dizzying pulse. She instinctively gritted her teeth to stifle the scream rising in her throat. She had clenched her teeth so hard pain bloomed across her jaw.

The ring floor felt cold beneath her as the weight of another body pressed hard against her, pinning her shoulders with no mercy. She barely registered the weight pressing her shoulders flat against the canvas. Her ears rang, muffling the sound of the crowd, but she could hear the distant sound of the referee’s hand slapping the mat.

One… two… three.

Then, the pressure lifted. It was over. The body on top of her shifted and lifted away. Her opponent, tall, confident, dominant, rose to her feet and thrust her arms in the air. The roar of the crowd thundered in her ears, and through the haze, she saw Nia Jax standing tall, her arm raised in victory.

“Winner by pinfall, Nia Jax!”

The words echoed in her skull like a cruel mantra. Mia let out a heavy breath and squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry. She didn’t understand why she was even upset; she should have been numb by now. Losing had become part of her routine — part of her identity, even. But it never got easier. It never stopped hurting. Every time it happened, especially when her opponent basked in the glory she craved, it cracked something deeper inside of her.

Eventually, the cheers dulled, the lights no longer burned quite as bright, and her body’s pain began to fade just enough for her to move. Her body still ached, but she forced herself to roll out of the ring, clutching her ribs. A few fans clapped for her, voices trying to be supportive, but Mia only managed a weak smile as she limped up the ramp. Their support was undeserved, she thought bitterly. They didn’t deserve this disappointment — and neither did she.

Backstage, the glow of the ring faded behind her, but the sting of defeat didn’t. The corridors buzzed with staff and talent, but Mia kept her head low, trying to make a straight shot to the locker room. She needed to be alone for just a few minutes, just long enough to fall apart quietly. She had to let the heartbreak out where no one could see. However, peace wasn’t in the cards tonight; she didn’t even make it halfway before the sound of mockery stopped her in her tracks.

“Well, if it isn’t the dumpster queen.” Chelsea Green’s voice cut through the hallway like a knife, dripping with mockery and theatrical malice.

Mia didn’t even look up. She just rolled her eyes.“Fuck off,” she muttered, trying to push past.

But of course, Chelsea wasn’t alone.

“Hey, don’t speak to her that way,” Piper Niven snapped, stepping in front of Mia and blocking her path. Mia’s jaw clenched as she stared at them; she could never just deal with one without the other appearing.

“Yeah, unless you wanna suffer another loss,” Chelsea chimed, grinning. “What’s the count now? Eight? That’s pathetic, even for you. Seriously, Mia. You should be ashamed.”

Their laughter echoed off the walls, loud and cruel. The sound stabbed deeper than any insult. Mia’s jaw tightened, her fists curling at her sides. Her heart pounded, a mixture of rage and humiliation swelling inside her until it drowned out her better judgment. In that moment, Mia would have loved to argue with the two to throw some hateful words at them too; however, she could argue with the truth, so she did what she always did.

“I said fuck off!” she barked, shoving Piper hard. Shock flickered across Piper’s face as she stumbled backward, hitting the floor with a thud.

But Mia didn’t even have a moment to enjoy it before Chelsea’s fist collided with her cheek like a hammer, sending her crashing to the ground. She fell hard, pain exploding across her face, and then they were both on her. Kicks. Punches. Slaps. The blows came fast and furious.

Still, Mia fought back. She threw elbows, and fists, and even managed to claw her way on top of Piper for half a second—until Chelsea dragged her off by the hair and slammed her down again.

Once again, fists rained down and the sharp merciless strikes began to blur into one another. Mia tried to fight back, throwing elbows and kicks, but it was hopeless. The numbers weren’t in her favor, and she’d already used up everything she had in the ring.

Blood in her mouth, fire in her limbs, and something else—something darker—rising in her chest. Pain bloomed across her body, but it was the burn of helplessness that stung most. No matter how many times she fought… she never seemed to win. In this case, the numbers game always won.

The chaos backstage was finally broken when two security guards finally remembered their job and rushed in, pulling Chelsea and Piper off of Mia. Chelsea growled something incomprehensible as she was dragged back, her eyes still locked on Mia like a predator denied the kill. Piper cursed under her breath, her smug expression finally cracking into frustration as the guards separated them.

Another guard arrived and knelt beside Mia, gently helping her to her feet. “You okay?” he asked. His tone was calm but urgent.

Mia ignored the man's question and tried to push past him, her eyes locked on Chelsea with fury. She lunged, fist raised, but the guard caught her around the waist, holding her back. Her body tensed with rage, but it wasn’t the guard’s grip that kept her from swinging, it was the ache radiating through every muscle and joint. The throbbing bruises across her ribs, the sting on her cheek, and the fatigue that clung to her bones like dead weight.

She let out a bitter exhale and sagged in the guard’s arms. Her body gave out first, but her heart wasn’t far behind. The tension slowly ebbed as the air settled and the shouting finally stopped. As Chelsea and Piper were led away, still laughing like it had all been a game, the guard loosened his hold, and Mia stood on her own. She didn’t thank him. She didn’t say anything. She just turned and made a beeline for the locker room, teeth clenched against the pain with every step.

Once inside, she collapsed onto the nearest bench like a puppet with cut strings. She let her body fall flat, head resting on her back, eyes burning. She buried her face in her hands, and for once, she didn’t try to hold it in. The tears slipped through her fingers, quiet and uncontrollable.

At that moment, she was thankful the locker room was empty. No one was there to ask questions. No one to shame her. Not that it would matter; they'd all seen her crumble before. They’d seen her take hits, both in the ring and out. They'd watch as she cried out in pain, their eyes filled with disgust and shame. This was nothing new. What was one more breakdown?

Overwhelmed by her misery, she didn’t hear the locker room door open. “Whoa. I know that isn’t the Hardcore Princess crying,” came a familiar voice.

Mia smiled despite herself, her face still buried in her hands. That voice always found a way to reach her. “Not right now, Bayley,” she said hoarsely. “Just leave me here to drown in my sorrow.”

She didn’t need to look up to know Bayley was smiling. The sound of her soft chuckle and approaching footsteps was enough. Bayley sat beside her and placed a gentle hand on her thigh, squeezing it with warmth and reassurance.

“Hey,” she said, “don’t be so hard on yourself. You lasted a while out there with Nia and we all know that’s not an easy thing to do. Besides, it’s my fault I wasn’t out there. Nia and Tiffany always run the numbers game. I should’ve seen it coming.”

Mia sighed, uncovering her face. Her eyes were red, her expression raw and tired. Bayley flinched just slightly, not in revulsion, but in pain because seeing Mia like this always hurt.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Mia muttered. “Last time you were out there and helped me… I still lost. I guess that’s all I am, huh? A lost cause.”

Bayley’s voice dropped to something softer. “Hey. Don’t say that.” She reached up and brushed a strand of damp hair away from Mia’s face. “Come on, let's go get a drink. I don’t have any more matches tonight and you look like you need to get out of here. How about it then? Do you wanna get out of here?”

Mia normally hated alcohol, hated the taste, hated the fog it brought but she could never say no to spending time with Bayley. Especially not tonight.

With Bayley’s help, Mia hauled her aching body off the bench, and the two made a stop by medical. Thankfully nothing was broken, just badly bruised. Cleared and aching, Mia didn’t wait; she just walked out of the building with Bayley by her side, her exhaustion slowly giving way to something lighter.

They ended up at Bayley’s favorite bar, which also happened to serve Mia’s favorite wings. Their usual booth in the corner waited for them. It was dimly lit, tucked away, safe, and quiet. Mia was still spaced out, her eyes unfocused, when the waitress finally arrived.

“Hello ladies, what can I get you for tonight?”

Mia’s ears perked up instantly. The voice was soft, smooth, like silk against skin. She turned toward it and froze. The woman was tall, light-skinned with long white braids that shimmered under the bar’s neon lighting. However, the way the lights shone on her braids was nothing compared to how they made her eyes glimmer. If anything about the woman truly caught Mia's attention it was her eyes; her eyes were mesmerizing. They were hazel, or maybe green. No, grey. They seemed to shift color every time Mia blinked as if refusing to be defined.

She was so entranced that she didn’t realize the waitress had asked for her order. “Excuse me,” the woman said again, gently. “Would you like some more time to look at the menu or are you ready to order?”

Mia snapped out of her trance, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Uh, sorry. I'm ready to order. I'll just get the honey BBQ wings and a Sprite.”

The woman smiled and scribbled the order down before walking away. Mia’s eyes followed her, only pulling away when Bayley started laughing. “Looks like someone’s developed a staring problem," she teased.

“Oh, shut up,” Mia muttered, rolling her eyes. “I wasn’t even staring like that. I’ve just never seen her before.”

Bayley smirked. “Yeah, she’s new here. Her name’s Briana, it says so on her name tag.”

Mia hummed thoughtfully, taking a sip of her drink. Briana. The name lingered on her tongue, beautiful and smooth, just like its owner.

“So… do you like her?” Bayley teased.

“What? No. I don’t even know her.”

“But you do think she’s beautiful, right?”

Mia opened her mouth to deny it, but the words didn’t come. She didn’t say no. She couldn’t. Because Briana was beautiful. Devastatingly so. Instead of lying, she exhaled — long, slow, and full of reluctant defeat. “Alright,” she muttered. “Yeah. She’s gorgeous. Like… ridiculously gorgeous.”

Bayley grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “I knew it! You were staring at her like she was the stars in the sky.”

“It’s her eyes,” Mia continued, her voice softening. “They’re… I don’t even know how to describe them. One second they’re hazel, then green, then kind of this stormy gray. It’s like they change with every blink. It’s… captivating.”

Bayley nodded, sipping her drink thoughtfully. “Yeah, I noticed that too. Real unique color, but I couldn’t tell you what the hell it is. They don’t stay the same long enough.” Then she tilted her head slightly, smirking. “What’s up with the white braids though? That’s an interesting choice.”

Mia shrugged, leaning back against the booth. “I dunno. But they suit her.”

She turned her head slightly, just enough to sneak another look at Briana, who was now leaning across the bar talking to one of the bartenders. The man was grinning at something she said, nodding along as if completely enchanted. And for some inexplicable reason, that sight made something twist in Mia’s stomach.

Jealousy.

She wanted to be the one Briana was talking to. The one getting that smile. Eventually, the bartender handed Briana two drinks which Mia assumed were hers and Bayley’s. With drinks in hand, she soon returned to their table with an easy, confident stride. She handed Bayley her glass first, then turned to Mia. As she passed her the drink, their eyes locked.

And just like before, Mia was caught. Instantly trapped by the woman's gaze. Time seemed to slow again as Briana offered her that soft, enigmatic smile. Mia’s heart thumped once. Then again, harder. She nearly forgot how to breathe.

“Alright,” Briana said, her voice like honey. “I should be back soon with your wings.”

She started to turn — but before she could walk away, Bayley’s voice rang out. “Hey, Briana?”

Mia’s trance shattered like glass. She shot Bayley a glare, lips parting in warning. Bayley only smiled.

Briana turned back, brows raised curiously. “Yeah?”

Bayley leaned forward slightly. “You said you were new here, right? How long’s it been?”

Briana shifted her weight and smiled politely. “About two weeks. A friend of mine helped me get the job.”

Bayley nodded, then glanced at the braids again. “I gotta say — I’ve never seen that color on anyone before. Looks kinda icy, like snow. Were you going for an Elsa Ice Queen-type look?”

Briana laughed, and Mia’s heart all but thudded out of her chest. “Yeah, it’s something, isn’t it?” she said with a small shrug. “I’m not super into it, honestly. But my boyfriend likes it. He says it fits the ‘aesthetic’ of our group or whatever.”

Boyfriend.

The word hit Mia like a steel chair to the chest. Her face dropped before she could stop it. Bayley noticed instantly and, in a rare show of grace, steered the conversation elsewhere.

“A group?” she asked quickly. “Like… a music group?”

“Yeah,” Briana replied. “We all rap and do music together. Well… he mostly raps. He likes to be the star. Still, it’s not exactly paying the bills right now, so here I am serving wings while he pretends we’re about to blow up.”

Mia muttered under her breath, “Sounds like an asshole.”

Briana chuckled, the sound warmer this time. “He kind of is. But he’s all I’ve got right now, so I try to make it work.” There was something in her voice — not regret, exactly, but resignation. Then Briana tilted her head curiously. “What about you two? Got anyone special?”

Bayley smiled, the kind of half-smile that spoke volumes. “Yeah, I do. But it’s complicated. We’re not… official. It’s been off and on for a while now.”

Briana nodded in understanding, then looked at Mia. “And you?”

Mia hesitated, the answer not coming easily. She’d nearly forgotten for a moment or maybe just didn’t want to remember. “I’m… married,” she finally said. “But we barely see each other. With the job I have, we’re always on opposite sides of the world. It’s like… I don’t know. Like being married to a ghost.”

Briana frowned slightly. “What do you do?”

But before Mia could answer, a voice from the kitchen called out an order. Briana glanced over her shoulder. “Sorry, that might be your wings. Be right back,” she said with a small smile before walking away.

Mia watched her go, her chest tightening in that awful, confusing way again. As pain gripped Mia's heart, Bayley turned toward her with a knowing look. “You know… maybe you still have a chance. She didn’t sound too thrilled about that boyfriend.”

Mia scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I just told her I’m married.”

Bayley leaned back in the booth, raising her drink like a toast. “And? You said it yourself, you two barely see each other. You’re human, Mia. A little fun won’t kill you.”

Mia stared into her drink for a long second, trying not to look over her shoulder again at Briana. But her heart was already one step ahead; she didn't need to look at the woman to see her. Briana’s face was already etched into her mind; she could see every delicate detail, from those shifting eyes to the way her smile curled up gently on one side just by closing her eyes. It was a beautiful image, one she couldn’t help but enjoy, and one she couldn't help but feel guilty for enjoying.

“I don’t know,” Mia said finally, her voice low and unsure. “I’ve never seen myself as a cheater. And I definitely wouldn’t call cheating ‘just having fun.’ That’s just not who I am.”

Bayley took a swig of her drink, savoring it with that little look of approval she always gave. It was a silent nod that said, Yep, still good. She took another sip before setting her glass down with a soft clink, then turned her full attention to Mia.

“You need to lighten up,” she said, her tone gentle but direct. “You’ve been suffering in this long-distance limbo for way too long. I get that you’re loyal, and that’s admirable. But come on, Mia. You’ve been miserable. You’re not even trying to live in the space you have right now.”

Mia opened her mouth, but Bayley didn’t let her interrupt. “And look, I’m not saying jump into bed with Briana or anything,” Bayley continued. “You don’t have to turn this into some romance. Just… be her friend. Start there. Get to know her. Maybe she turns out to be the spark you didn’t know you needed.”

Mia let the words settle in the air for a moment, chewing her bottom lip as her eyes drifted toward the bar again. “How would I even… do that? I don't even think she would even want to be friends with me.”

Bayley grinned, propping her elbow on the table. “Easy. Ask for her number. That’s it. Just a, ‘Hey, you seem cool, wanna be friends?’ Done.”

Mia was about to retort, to say she wasn’t even sure how to pull that off without looking like a total idiot, but her chance was cut short. Briana returned, balancing a plate of hot wings with a practiced grace. She set it gently in the middle of the table, her smile still soft and ever-present.

“Here you go, ladies,” she said.

“Thanks,” Bayley said brightly before immediately grabbing a wing and tearing into it like she hadn’t eaten in days. Sauce coated her fingers in seconds.

Briana chuckled, clearly used to the chaos of hungry customers. “Can I get you anything else?”

Bayley glanced at Mia, who was just sitting there… staring. Hard. After a while, Mia finally blinked out of her daze. “Uh—yeah, can I get a side of ranch?”

“Of course,” Briana replied with a nod, then turned to retrieve it.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Bayley burst into laughter, sauce still on her lips. “God, you’re so bad at this.”

Mia groaned and dropped her head into her hands. “Shut up.” Her voice was muffled, somewhere between frustration and embarrassment.

Bayley leaned back, licking her fingers. “If you don't ask for her number before we leave tonight, I might ask for it myself.”

Mia’s head snapped up. “Don’t you dare.”

Bayley didn't seem phased by Mia’s glare; she just winked, smirking as she grabbed another wing. “Then get to it, Hardcore Princess.”

Mia sighed and grabbed a wing, finally giving in to the moment. The hot, tangy sauce hit her tongue with a familiar kick, grounding her senses and pushing away the whirlwind of conflicting thoughts—at least for now. She focused on the food, savoring each bite like it was the distraction she desperately needed. With each bite, her nerves dulled just enough to let her be present—if only a little.

Soon enough, she and Bayley slipped into a more relaxed rhythm as their conversation started to flow more naturally. They talked about everything and nothing—Bayley venting about a backstage mix-up, Mia sharing a story about a match gone sideways. They also talked about upcoming matches, the state of the women’s division, and some behind-the-scenes drama that had both of them chuckling between bites. Mia even shared a few things from her personal life—nothing too heavy, but enough to keep the tone honest. It felt good to just talk, to laugh at something stupid Bayley said, to remember that the world didn’t revolve around her losses or her aching body.

Still, even in the middle of a sentence, Mia found her attention drifting. Her eyes tracked Briana across the bar as the woman floated from table to table, her body moving with a smooth, almost effortless grace as she served other tables.

Her voice would drift through the air now and then—warm and melodic, like the sound of a familiar song you didn’t know you knew. The low hum of her voice mixed with the occasional peal of laughter drifted over the noise of the bar, weaving its way into Mia’s attention like a magnet.

And then, like she could feel herself being watched, Briana caught Mia’s gaze. Instead of simply looking away, she smiled and winked playfully. That one gesture sent a jolt through Mia’s heart like lightning straight from the clouds.

She had always thought Cupid was a dumb fantasy—a Hallmark invention. The winged baby wasn't real, she’d always thought. But sitting there, blinking like a deer in headlights as Briana sauntered away, Mia was pretty sure the little bastard just shot her square in the heart.

Bayley raised an eyebrow, smirking over the rim of her drink like she could read Mia’s mind. “No harm in having some fun, right?” her earlier words echoed.

Mia bit her lip. Maybe Bayley was right. There was no harm in having a little fun—as friends. That’s all it would be. Nothing was wrong with that.

By the time the wing basket sat empty between them, Mia had almost convinced herself of that. Minutes had passed, wings were demolished, drinks were drained, and the mood had shifted into something sleepy but content. Briana eventually returned to the table with the bill in hand, her bright eyes locking on them like she was genuinely happy they’d stuck around. As always, Bayley snatched it before Mia could even reach for it and Briana stepped away to run the card.

Briana returned a few minutes later with Bayley’s card and a casual, “Hope you ladies have a good night.”

Mia felt Bayley’s eyes before she saw them. When she turned, Bayley was already giving her that look—the look that said, It’s now or never.

And for once, Mia didn’t back down. Mia swallowed hard. Her pulse quickened. She called out before she could talk herself out of it.

“Hey, Briana?” she called softly.

The woman turned, steps soft as she walked back to their table. “Yeah?”

Mia reached into her pocket and pulled out a crisp fifty-dollar bill, extending it toward her. “This is for you,” Mia said. “As a tip.”

Briana’s eyes widened. “Oh no, that's too much. I appreciate it but I didn’t do that much.”

“You did,” Mia said gently. “Believe me, you made my night. And I insist.”

There was a beat of hesitation before Briana reluctantly accepted it, still looking like she wasn’t sure she deserved it. “I know you’ve got to get back to work,” Mia continued, “but earlier you asked about my job. I didn’t get the chance to answer, and… well, if it’s not too much to ask… I’d love to tell you about it. Maybe later.”

Briana tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. Mia’s heart thudded in her chest. “I mean,” she added quickly, “if you’re okay with giving me your number. So we can talk.”

For a moment, everything was still. Then Briana smiled—genuinely, sweetly—and said, “Sure. But only if I get yours too.”

Mia blinked, then chuckled nervously as she began patting herself down for a pen. “Uh… crap. I don’t—”

Briana reached into her apron and handed her one. Grinning now, Mia grabbed a napkin and scribbled down her number in the neatest handwriting she could manage with shaky hands. Briana did the same on the back of the receipt.

“Well,” Briana said, tucking the napkin into her pocket, “I guess I’ll be waiting for that story. Have a good night, ladies.”

She gave them both one last smile—lingering just a second longer on Mia—before turning and disappearing into the swirl of bar activity.

As they stepped out into the cool night air, Mia was quiet for a moment, her fingers curled around the receipt in her pocket like it was a precious secret.

Bayley nudged her with an elbow. “Look at you,” she teased, grinning. “Little Hardcore Princess growing up, asking for numbers.”

Despite the joke at her expense, Mia couldn’t help but smile. It wasn't the forced ones she was used to producing; this was one of those rare, honest smiles that even the ache in her ribs couldn’t dull.

As they approached the crosswalk, Bayley threw an arm over her shoulder and pulled her into a side hug. “Told you. A little fun never hurt anyone. Hey, maybe this was the win you needed tonight.”

Mia pulled the piece of paper out again just to look at the number. She glanced down at the receipt in her hand, the numbers still fresh in ink. Bayley was right; this was exactly the win she needed.