SWEET LIKE CINNAMON

mia purses her lips, before she nods, turning fully forward. she only hesitates for a second, before putting the aux cord in her phone, flicking through a couple playlists and steering as clear as she can of anything too embarrassing. “just a natural state for me, i guess.” she says, with no sign of bite. 

at astrid’s question, she shakes her head, glancing back over. “nope. i’ve actually never heard of it.“

her fingers reach out towards the volume knob, or what she hopes is the volume, and turns it down slightly, watching the bars go down, before she presses play on her phone. 

Ugh, she hates her fucking daddy issues. Because when she catches a glimpse of Mia, such a genuine nice personality at the forefront, she feels like a fucking asshole. And when she feels like an asshole, she feels like her dad and now she’s annoyed at herself in her car for still letting his words consistently berate her. She’s nothing like him, and Mia sure as fuck does not deserve her dumbass attitude. “Being weird isn’t, like, bad...” she says, but the way her sentence trails off doesn’t make her sound all too convinced herself. 

She’s grateful for the segway into the next conversation, but suddenly it dawns on her that she’s kind of a loser for driving two hours out for some overly sweet coffee chain. “It’s Dunkin’ Donuts but better, and also super far from LA.”

Jolts of electricity course through her, the source being Sydnee’s touch across the expanse of her skin and the increasing high of the edibles. After that comes the butterflies, and her body moves on its own accord, frantic in her touches as though she’ll never be in this moment again. But Sydnee’s so reassuring this time around that it feels different. They’re both older and the awkwardness of being freshly out of a relationship and the uncertainty of Sydnee’s career have long since been forgotten. 

When Sydnee grinds down against her, CJ all but goes crazy. “Fuck, Syd,” she groans, the way she utters her name almost a whine. Sydnee hasn’t even touched her where it matters the most and she can already feel a stickiness coating the inside of her own thighs. 

The giggle that erupts from her is intoxicating in more ways than one. “God, you’re so... ” CJ laughs when she can’t finish her sentence. It feels natural in between them. But she really is eager to return Sydnee’s kiss, her tongue begging for entrance when she leans back in.

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If she thought about it, which she would never do, Litely would realise it was almost hypocritical of her to call someone out like she had. After all, she was notoriously in her own world. Anything that extended beyond her wasn’t worth a second thought. Thankfully, this wasn’t about her; and she didn’t care much (or at all) for minor details such as being hypocritical. An audible growl made it’s way passed her lips as she was nearly hit with the skateboard, taking a step back as if to prove a point. 

“You should be.” She all but snapped back. Patience had never been her forte, let alone when she was sober. Continuing to walk, she spares a sideways glance at the blonde. “Okay, stalker. I’m heading to the closest place with a drink.”

“Swear!” CJ confirms, hand on her heart to indicate just how serious she is, the jab off her back like water. At her next words, the opportunity is all too clear. But she’ll save the joke for later. 

“That would definitely be Retrograde,” she offers as a suggestion. “You ever been? Cheap drinks, hot bartenders.” And because it’s Los Angeles, and Claire has never given a fuck about what other people think, she pulls out her dab pen to take a hit.

mia’s feeling…fidgety. but thankfully, it’s a short drive, and gives her very little time to regret her decision. before that, however, she quickly changes astrid’s name in her phone, to a simple “astrid 👿 “ and she thought it fit. 

her second text made mia laugh a little. but she still took the advice. just a school one, some part of her thinking anything else may get some sort of a snippy quip from astrid. they really didn’t seem to have the same humor. 

when she sees astrid in her car, she has a few thoughts. one being, wow, she is so pretty. and of course she is, because she’s viv’s friend. and two, wow she is so pretty and this is definitely some sort of a mistake. and three? that is a very nice shade of green. 

and the last is what she focuses on as she slips in the car, pulling her sundress past her knees. “hi there,” she says, in a voice that she hopes hides her nervousness. “so…coffee?” 

It’s not the craziest thing Astrid’s done, let alone the wildest, so she’s entirely nonchalant when Mia does get into her car. She rolls down the windows halfway and throws the aux cord over before setting the car in gear. 

“Why are you being weird?” she asks, and because she likes to think she’s the coolest person ever, grabs a cigarette from the dash in between them. Fumbling with her lighter at the red light, she glances back over at Mia. “Dutch Bros coffee,” she emphasizes, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Have you never been?”

“Oh bloody hell. Of course. Of course you meant that and not…” Evie sank down onto the stool, staring pathetically at the counter. “Cranberry vodka sounds absolutely delightful right about now. How are you doing, CJ? Despite me being an utter idiot.” She pressed both of her hands to her temples, wishing the earth could swallow her whole.

“Don’t even worry about it,” CJ soothes, taking a sip of her own tequila. “Already forgotten. One time I called a girl Jamie in bed, and it turned out her name was Amy.”

Serving up the drink, CJ makes sure it’s got an extra punch of alcohol. “People don’t ask for cranberry vodkas unless something’s really bugging them. What’s up? You’ve got full bartender confidentiality right now.” 

“and that, my love, is why you are the best.” carson smiled widely, practically jumping into astrid’s lap and kissing her cheek. she knew she could always rely on her friend to be down for… pretty much anything. she typically didn’t ask if she thought it would be dangerous, because as much as she likes to pretend she doesn’t, she actually does care about the people close to her. but this was just some abandoned house. they would be fine. 

carson nodded as she pushed herself up off the other girl when astrid started getting up. “isn’t velma the one who says jinkies? so, i think that makes you velma. i’m totally daphne. i mean, c’mon. look at me,” she smirked, only half-joking. pulling her car keys out of her pocket, carson began walking to her car, looking back to make sure astrid was following her. “starbucks definitely, we’re gonna need it.” 

“it’s about three hours away. you can dj, but no weird shit, and we have to listen to the scooby doo theme song once we get closer just ‘cause it’s stuck in my head now.”

Caught a little off guard — and because Astrid’s entire workout regimen is dependent on good genes so she’s weak as fuck — she lets out a little oof when Carson barges into her body. She gets her arms around her eventually, keeping them in place. Her chin rests on a shoulder blade and she jokes (but not really), “Huh, I guess I am kinda the best.”

Straightening out her shirt when Carson hops off, Astrid doesn’t look up as she mentions her flirtatious comment. Believe her, she knows what Carson looks like. When she looks up, she has a mischievous grin. “Sure, you can be Daphne if the next time you come around, you wear a little purple dress. I don’t look too bad in an ascot, you can call me Fred, C.”

Always better built for casual, no strings attached relationships with the women in her life, Blake is notorious for keeping them at an arms length: distant but still within reach when needed. And tonight, she feels needy. Astrid, or so she tells herself, is just another one of her fuck buddies, but the heat blossoming in her stomach under her wanting touch tells a different story.

“Come on, I know a place.” Voice barely a breath in the wake of the kiss she’d been aching for, Blake takes Astrid’s hand loosely and guides them through the crowd and out of the warehouse. The shop is on the same block, so she had planned on crashing there tonight anyways, but this is a much better way to spend her night. Astrid in tow, Blake fumbles slightly with her keys before hearing the doors of Rip City click open.

“Follow me, beautiful.” Navigating through the darkness, she’s able to find the office door with surprising ease. Using the lighter in her pocket, she lights one of the fragrant candles on the end table, illuminating the small but quaint office space. Complete with a small pull-out couch, a desk, and storage towards the back, Blake moves to hop onto the desk, albeit a bit clumsily, though she exudes a confidence that fuels her next question. “Ever fucked in a skate shop before?”

Astrid, much like her cheating father, could never say no to pretty women; so she, too, lets herself be stolen away — if only for a moment — and pulled through a rambunctious crowd  that forces her body to bump into Blake’s space every so often. It’s easy to get lost in the sensation, to act as though nothing else but these damn drugs and Blake matter, but fresh air is the wake up call.

Blake’s not fit for the Kelly family, and because Astrid does care about Blake, she won’t put her through that wringer either. Still, that won’t excuse Astrid from having her cake and eating it too. She leans forward into Blake’s back, plays with her fingers and lands a kiss on the back of her ear; an out of character giggle (it’s the alcohol, seriously) leaves her when Blake fumbles to get the door open.

Ever fucked in a skate shop. “No,” she snorts, but her knees feel weak as she closes the space in between them, one hand landing on Blake’s thigh to spread them open. She slides into the gap, head tilting down to kiss Blake effectively. When she pulls away, she bites at her lip, jabs with a smirk on her face, “I don’t make a habit of fucking 17 year old boys at their summer jobs.” 

Pulling out her phone, she messages: “Downstairs. Green car.” A pause, she doesn’t really care that much, but. “You should bring a sweater. It’s kinda cold.” @sonderbound​

Part of what Siofra loved about Retrograde was the easiness in which people could come and go, a large part of that was down to the staff who treated everyone like friends. She laughed when CJ turned to her but shook her head at the offer.

“Oh no, the last time you did that I ended up far too drunk and with a very angry missus.”

When Siofra shakes her head, CJ instread grabs the nozzle of orange juice with her right hand and cranberry juice with the left. She offers a lopsided grin. “Juice then? Still on the house!”

Zola’s attention albeit shaky– was on her phone. She was responding to a few students’ emails. Some were trying to make up lessons and others canceled entirely. If she had the gall, which she didn’t, she’d let the latter know they were going to fail and see her next semester. But that wasn’t her business if they wanted to waste their parents’ money that was their prerogative. She found it harder to concentrate on work when the stunningly lanky brunette was in her presence, or in this case view. “One of my students,” she repeated, eyes widening at the unexpected and very loaded question. “Oh, wow.” At one point, she didn’t think she’d sleep with a student at all; although, that theory had been reluctantly debunked as evident by this very moment. Abandoning work for a while, she finally joined Astrid on the balcony. “I’d like to say no definitively but if experience has taught me anything… Never say never.” Her answer was earnest and to the point. Zola was nothing if not honest. “Actually, his father’s picking him up today…” A subtle smirk starting taking over her soft brown features. “Any ideas for what I could be doing with that free time?”

"I don’t count,” Astrid says matter-o-factly, lips curling up into a smile. She puts out her cigarette and lets the butt sit in the ash try outside. There’s an open chair, the metal kind, next to her, but Astrid’s legs are open and she’s hoping the invite is loud for Zola should she take it. “I sucked at music, and I dropped your class like halfway. No offense. Definitely wasn’t you,” she reassures.

She finds that Los Angeles tacos are unmatched, and kombucha is pretty delicious. She doesn’t mind hiking, and the constant sunshine is eons better than gloomy, grey skies common to New York city. But location isn’t everything — not when Talia’s coming to terms with Vivienne (and Eden too, fuck) being the central reason for staying indefinitely.

lav had sat at the far end corner of the bar, against the wall, which was her usual go to. in lav’s brain it meant, ‘ i don’t want anyone near me, but i will come up to you if i feel like it’. she was working hard on lavcon, (…or hardly working ….depending on who you’d ask) but she was definitely listening to every word that left cj’s lips… almost seething in a jealousy that she’d never admit to. her eyes glued to the email thread she had going on with tati westbrook to secure her panel spot - just to jab at james charles for declining her the other day. but her ears? caused her to shoot up as cj approached. “hi baby.” her words, just as flirtatious as ever… like she never left and as if cj never met sydnee… not one care about how things were now. “wonder why?” she huffs out the question under her breath.  “ how about two tequila shots - -” she paused, a devilish smirk filling her features. “ make that two more, for you too. for old times sakes, sunshine.” with her words, she extended her hand to poke at cj’s shoulder. 

Oh Lavender Pierce: once upon a time the woman of Claire’s dreams, wet and romantic. Muscle memory makes her lean into Lav, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up when she hears baby. Elbows on the bar counter, she’s close to the brunette now. Her gaze doesn’t reach Lavender yet, facing down with the smallest of smirks embedded on her features. “You know you can’t call me that anymore, Lav,” her voice is soft, and she tucks back a strand of Lavender’s hair before turning her back to grab their alcohol.