Heart Attack (WWE One Shot) (Contest Entry)

A/N: this is inspired by Demi Lovato's song "Heart Attack," not the One Direction song, although I love both songs!

I was working out in a corner by myself, dancing to Sara Bareilles' "Brave" when I noticed a tall, muscular, tattooed, and very, very good-looking man come up behind me. I rolled my eyes. I knew who it was, but I decided to ignore him and keep on dancing. He stood there for a while, watching me until I got done.

"Didn't know you had the moves in ya."

I turned around to see my best friend, Corey Graves aka Matt Polinsky, looking at me. Matt and I have been best friends since my first day in developmental, although if you ask him to tell the story of our unlikely friendship, it wasn't his choice. 

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I saw him sitting by himself in the Superstar Lounge of the Performance Center. He was eating a Triple Whopper from Burger King, large fries, and a large drink. I had gotten a grilled chicken sandwich, medium fries, a medium suicide drink, and a vanilla Frosty from Wendys'- ya know, so I can put the fries in the Frosty- it's the bomb dot com! But I digress. 

I walked over to him and sat down in front of him and started unpacking my lunch.

"Uh, are you old enough to be in here?" he asked me. Yea, those were the first words out of his mouth to me.

"Yes, I am. Is that a problem?" I retorted as I poured ketchup into the french fry container.

"Nope. Who told you that you could sit here?" I rolled my eyes at him and proceeded to mix my fries with my Frosty.

"No one. I wanted to sit here. Jeez, are you writing a book or something?" I said sarcastically. 

"Nah. That takes too much work. I prefer hitting people than reading," he told me.

"Clearly," I nodded, looking at him and taking a sip of my Dr. Pepper.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? You calling me stupid or something?"

"Whoa, big guy. Calm your tits, dude. Did I say you were stupid? No. No, I didn't. So don't assume things, because if you assume, you make an ass out of you," I finished sweetly. I tacked on a nice, big ol' smile at the end, just to piss him off. 

After a while, he burst out laughing.

"You are a little smartass, aren't you, little girl?" he asked me. My response was to deliver a swift kick to his shin underneath the table. "Goddammit! Fuck!" he swore loudly.

"I am not a little girl. My name is Georgia Belle Potter. I am 22 years old, I can drink your ass under the table, and I can and will kick your ass if I have to," I replied saucily.

He came up a few minutes later, after rubbing his shin.

"Well, Miss Georgia Belle, I'll have to take you up on that offer of drinking me under the table one night," Matt said with a wink. I rolled my eyes at him.

"So, does this mean we're friends? I only drink with friends," I told him. Matt scratched his chin.

"Sure." he said, laughing. "They call me Graves."

"What's your real name, Graves?" I asked.

"Short, sweet, and to the point. I like that."

"Cut the bullshit, Graves. Your name. Your real name." 

He got up and went to throw his trash away. He came back and I remembered him standing behind me. He leaned down and I had felt his breath in my ear as he whispered,