hooch

Vi slides the door shut behind her, and you turn back to the sky.

“Do you want to go home?” she asks. Her voice is soft and warm, and you want to wrap yourself up in it, in her. Which is the problem.

When she offered to be your date to your ex’s wedding, you had turned her down. You weren’t even planning on going. You deleted the invitation as soon as you got it.

But Vi had been persistent, had hatched a plan between shifts. She would pretend to be your girlfriend to show everyone you had moved on, that what Bianca did hadn’t broken you. And eventually you agreed. A few strategically posted Instagram stories later, and she showed up at your front door, dressed to kill (or at least break some hearts), and ready to take you to the wedding of the woman who had shattered you.

Vi ambles closer to you and wraps one arm around your waist. The door behind you is glass, and you can practically feel the gaze of curious wedding-goers burning hot against your back. They’d been gawking all night. Because of that, and only because of that, you nestle in closer. She’s warm and solid against you, finally some relief from the bitter chill.

“No,” you answer her question finally. “I’m fine.”

She laughs. “That’s why you’ve been hiding?”

You bristle at that. “I’m not hiding. I’m taking a smoke break.”

There was no cigarette in sight. That was a joke between the two of you. Vi was quitting, but still insisted on taking her smoke break every hour. “It gives me time to think,” she would say.

“Ah, I see.” Vi nods sagely. “Well, I think it might be time to go back into the party.”

You groan and bury your face in her shoulder. “Don’t say that.”

“Another hour and we can leave,” she promises. She tilts your face up to look at her. “You look beautiful.”

Your face burns hot despite the cold. “You said that already.”

“And it’s still true.” She grabs the door for you, and you murmur a thanks as you step through. Things like that come easy for Vi. Holding open doors, compliments, tender embraces. You know life has never been kind to her, but somehow some part of her has managed to stay soft. It makes you feel better about your own mushy center.

Stepping back in from the balcony feels like being transported into another world. The city outside is grey, painted blue by the moonlight. Everything inside is white, beige, cream, accented by the gold of dangling chandeliers. You always knew Bianca’s family had money, one of the many points of conflict between the two of you, but not like this.

“It’s too much, right?” Vi whispers next to you, close enough you feel the words more than hear them. “The decorations? It’s tacky.”

You smile and nod, but there’s a pit in your stomach. Eight months ago, you would have killed for this to be your tacky wedding. Instead, you found your girlfriend, the love of your life, tangled up with her coworker in your bed. And so, you had to completely restart your life. Everything was tainted with traces of her. Your apartment, your shared friends.

The only thing that’s stayed the same since then was Vi, your coworker at The Last Drop. Nothing had changed between the two of you. Until now.  

Vi takes your hand in hers brings it up to her lips. The gesture shocks and thrills you. It’s too much, too over the top in its affection. You should tell her to dial it back, tell her that she’s overdoing it. Bianca never did things like that. But you can’t quite bring yourself to stop her.

“Let’s dance,” she says.

It’s not a request. She drags you after her onto the floor. The song is slow, so she pulls you in close, positioning you like a rag doll. She sways the two of you to the beat; she’s got an alright sense of rhythm. The music is gentle and hypnotic. You want to rest your head on her shoulder, to melt into her. You stay upright though, and smile when her eyes meet yours. You feel lighter.

Vi has that effect on you. That’s why you were hiding. Not Bianca.

Because you told yourself were done with all of this – with dating, with relationships. But when Vi smiled at you, or held you in her arms, it was too easy to forget why that was the case. Vi seemed different, but you never guessed Bianca would have done what she did. It wasn’t worth the heartache.

And that’s your mantra as Vi pulls you in closer. What you tell yourself as you succumb to her gravitational pull and bury your face in the crook of her neck. The song ends, and you pull back. The spell isn’t broken. You still feel warm and gooey, melted through.

You don’t go back to your seats. You dance through three more songs, one slow and two more up tempo. During the last song, Vi spins you so fast you the room blurs, and you can’t help but laugh. You know people are staring, that the two of you are making a scene. You can’t help it.  

Then it’s time to say goodbyes. This is the moment you had been dreading. “We can just leave,” Vi suggests, face close to yours. The whole dinner she had been in your space. Hand on yours. Arm wrapped around you. Anchoring you.

“We have to,” you say, stomach tight. It was why you came.

You wait in line, Vi’s hand in yours. She squeezes, once, and shoots you a tight nod. “Moment of truth,” she whispers. You smile back with a confidence you don’t feel.

When you finally reach Bianca, you almost bolt. The last time you saw her you were telling her to rot in hell.

She smiles when she sees you, but you’re not sure it reaches her eyes.

She hugs you, and your skin burns where she touches you.

“I didn’t think you would show,” she says, when she finally pulls away. Her hands stay on you, rubbing wide circles on your upper arms.

“Then why send the invite?” Vi asks. Her tone is clipped.

Bianca doesn’t answer, and instead asks you, “And who is this?” Like she didn’t already know.

Moment of truth, like Vi said. “This is Vi. My girlfriend.”

Bianca’s eyebrows twitch, slightly. Her hands fall to her side. Then she schools her expression. “Am I allowed to say you moved on fast?”

Vi answers for you. “No.”

Bianca laughs amicably. “I guess that’s fair.”

It’s so warm in here. You miss the cool night air.

“But it seems you were wrong,” she continues. “Jess and I are the real deal.” A petty reference to one of the many things you had screamed at her that night - that she and Jess would never make it because Bianca was a heartless monster.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Vi asks, hand on the small of your waist.

“Nothing,” you say.

“Inside joke,” Bianca says, with a wink. Your face heats hotter still. You wonder if everyone else can hear your conversation, if they’re silently judging you. Pitying you. You wonder whose side everyone is on. Is it even possible that it’s yours? After all, they showed up tonight.

“We should go,” Vi says, looking at you, concern clear on your face. You can’t bring yourself to wish that she was better at hiding her emotions. You like that it’s all out there, that she’s an open book.

“Yeah,” you reply, voice small. You turn to Bianca. “It was good to see you.”

Bianca smiles, eyes crinkling this time. You wonder if that means you lost. “You too.”

She looks like she wants another hug, but you turn before she can reach for you. Vi’s hand is firm on your back, guiding you to the door.

Before you leave, she stops you. “She’s watching,” she says. You know who she’s talking about. “I’m gonna kiss you, okay?”

You nod, palms wet. Vi leans in, and suddenly it’s all too real. And you consider stopping her, just for a second. It’s too late though. If you do, everyone will catch on that it’s fake. Or they’ll think you’re fighting because of her. So, you let Vi’s kiss you.

She’s a good kisser. Lips soft, with a firm hand on your jaw guiding you. If you weren’t floating in outer space, looking down at your own body, you probably would enjoy it. When she pulls away, she rests her forehead on yours. “I think she saw that.”

That jars you back to reality. You remember where you are, that people were watching at all. It had just been so long since you had been kissed, you tell yourself. It was confusing you.

“Let’s go,” you beg.

She rubs her thumb over the apple of your cheek. “Sure thing. Walk slow”

In the car, it takes everything in you not to cry. “She was such a bitch,” Vi says.

She was. And the crazy thing was, until you had to talk to her you were actually having a good night. The best.

“You hungry?” Vi asks. You hadn’t touched your food all night – you hadn’t thought she noticed, though. Before you can answer, she’s punching the address to the closest fast-food place into her beat up android.

You both order way too much food, and Vi pulls into the closest parking spot so you can feast.

Your stomach is getting dangerously close to eating itself, but instead of unwrapping your sandwich you look at Vi, who experiences no such hesitation.

“Why’d you do this?” you ask.

Vi looks bewildered. “You seemed hungry.”

“Not the food.” You shift in your seat. “Why’d you come with me tonight.”

She pauses before answering. The part of you that’s stuck in that bedroom with Bianca tells you it’s because she’s concocting some lie. A more generous part, the one that’s taken with the sharp tailoring of her suit jacket and the tussle of her hair, wants to believe she’s shoring up courage to confess. That this was where she would tell you that it was because she wants you, because she’s always wanted you –

“I thought you needed closure,” she answers, finally.

Oh. “You were being a good friend.” You offer a tight smile. It’s a good reason, even if it’s not the one you were hoping for in your heart of hearts.

She tilts her head thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess we are friends, huh?”

You nudge her. “Of course we are. What else would we be?” But your heart is blistering in your chest.

She doesn’t hesitate this time. “Coworkers, obviously.” She grins at the way you roll your eyes and snatches one of your fries out of the bag.

“Hey!” You try to snatch it back, but it’s in her mouth in a blink.

“Too slow,” she says, mouth full. You wrinkle your nose, and she laughs, head thrown back.

You play with your fingers, giving them something to do, so you don’t do something stupid, like reach out for her.

It’s two AM when you leave the parking lot. You don’t want the night to end. You want to invite her up, but you can’t think of an excuse that wouldn’t make your desperation for her obvious.

She walks you to the door, tie loosened, suit jacket abandoned.

You turn back to say something, maybe just goodnight, but Vi beats you to it.

“Can I tell you something?” she asks. Her gaze is piercing, and the focused beam of her attention makes you want to squirm.

Instead, you raise a brow. “Can I stop you?”

“I like you. I think I’ve always had a thing for you. Ever since you started working at the bar.” The words knock the air out of you. You would accuse her of lying, of playing some kind of cruel trick, but she’s so solemn you know she’s telling the truth. “That’s why I wanted you to come to this. I thought maybe it would give you some closure, help you move one. I wasn’t lying” Her eyes go wide, and the earnestness in her gaze makes you want to gobble her up. “But, or also, I guess, I wanted to be there when it happened. Because maybe you would be ready.”

“Ready for what?” you ask, breathless. It’s funny how getting what you want feels a lot like having the wind knocked out of you. Like standing at the edge of a steep cliff, too scared to look down.

She doesn’t answer immediately, instead takes a half step closer to you. You stand your ground. So, she moves closer still. One rough hand curls delicately around the back of your neck. “For this,” she whispers, and her lips are on yours again.

You had thought she was good at this before. It turns out, Vi was better when it the real deal.

She starts to pull away, and you fist your hands into her shirt to keep her where she is. She doesn’t protest, just wraps her other arm around you and pulls you in closer.

Kissing her is a revelation. You can’t for the life of you understand why you had never done it sooner. You would kick yourself, but you’re too thrilled.

You pull away, just a hair, to whisper, “Do you want to come inside?”

Her fingers skim along the edge of your face, kissing your cheeks. “Not tonight, princess.” Your stomach flips at the nickname even as it sinks in disappointment. “Have to take you on a real date first.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, maybe too fast from the way that Vi laughs. There’s nothing mean spirited about it, though. She kisses your cheek. You close your eyes and will time to slow down. It doesn’t.

“Goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Another brush of your cheek. And then, just like that, she’s headed down the stairs. She throws another look at you before turning the corner, grin rakish and entirely self-satisfied. You can’t bring yourself to be irritated. Your whole body is vibrating with excitement.

Maybe you’ll regret this. Maybe you’ll look back on this night and curse yourself for ever letting someone else in, for letting yourself get hurt all over again.

But for now, you let yourself hope.

──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

The Last Drop is free of patrons this afternoon; quiet, minus the obnoxious pop music playing from the overhead speakers.

It takes about a song and a half of your incessant staring before Sevika's focus on the loose screw in her arm relents in favor of shifting to you.

She looks up at you with tired eyes and a cocked brow— an expression you've grown very used to— awaiting your explanation for said staring.

You say nothing, still gazing, brows furrowed and lips pursed. A very serious face for someone Sevika has learned is incredibly unserious.

"Can I help you?" She finally grunts.

And at that, you sit up straight, eyes bright.

"Oh— why, yes, you can," you beam. "I'm so glad you asked."

Sevika pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs as you scoot closer. She recalls an excerpt from the pretentious parenting book she'd bought topside after taking Isha in; something about "ignoring unacceptable demands for attention so as not to reinforce the behavior."

She's gotten better at doing this with Isha. She has not gotten better at doing this with you.

"I've been thinking about something," you begin, "and I need your help… if it's cool with you."

You take on an uncharacteristically bashful expression, piquing Sevika's interest.

"Okay," she narrows her eyes. "What is it?"

"It's about… I dunno… dating?" you say, twisting one of the several rings on your fingers.

The corner of Sevika's lips quirk up into a near-imperceptible smirk.

"My love life," you continue, "the lack thereof, what I've done, what I haven't—"

"Spit it out, sweetness."

"Right," you exhale. "So… here's the thing:"

You ignore the embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck and prickling at your cheeks. It's Sevika. She knows almost everything about you, and she hasn't judged you yet— well, not including the time you bought a chai tea for, like, ten bucks at a swanky coffee shop before you knew she could make it better herself.

Still, it's Sevika. She's your best friend. And if there's anyone you want assisting you in rectifying the predicament you've found yourself in, it's her.

So, you do as she asked and spit it out.

"I've never kissed anyone."

Her grin stretches across her face in full, now.

"You serious?" She asks, brows lifting.

You roll your eyes, scoffing.

"Yes, Sev. And I'd appreciate you withholding any snarky ass comments. Not everyone has women lined up for a mile waiting to get a piece."

"Uh-oh," she purrs, leaning back against the booth and crossing her arms. "Somebody sounds jealous."

"I'm not jealous," you bite back.

Not of her, at least. Of the women you know she's been with, though..?

"Look," you huff, "I just… I need your help, okay?"

"I gathered. With what?"

Your eyes shoot up from where they were trained on a knot in the wooden table and meet her own, wide and surprised.

As it turns out, you hadn't really thought through the conversation this far. Sevika's good at reading your mind; you figured you'd just ask for "help," she'd know exactly what you meant, and the rest would be history.

The smirk she's wearing suggests she does know exactly what you mean, but that she wants to hear you say it anyway.

And your best friend is a stubborn, stubborn woman.

So you concede.

"With kissing, Sevika."

You squeeze your eyes shut, the embarrassment impossible to ignore, now.

"With kissing?"

Janna, you should have known she was going to make this impossible…

"Yes! With kissing!" You exclaim, eyes wide and hands gesturing wildly.

She stares for a moment, likely deciding whether or not the entertainment of making this more difficult for you would be worth the threat to her physical safety.

Much to your relief, she decides she'd like to stay alive today.

"Alright," she shrugs. "I'll help you."

And, just like that, she goes back to tightening the screw.

You track her movements for a moment, dumbfounded.

"That's it? You'll… you'll teach me? Just like that?"

"Why not?" She replies, not looking up from her arm. "I've spent the last couple of weeks teaching a six-year-old to 'calm her body' and sign 'I can't find my dinosaur' instead of throwing a fit. Might be nice to teach an adult something a bit more… well… adult."

"Yeah?" you ask; hopeful, relieved.

"Yeah," Sevika echoes, looking up at you with a warm smile— an expression that's far more rare than the look of exasperation she wore at the beginning of this chat.

"Okay. Then… yeah," you shyly smile, "you'll, uh… you'll teach me how to kiss, then."

"Mhm," she hums, returning her focus to the screw for good, though the soft smile doesn't leave her face.

"I've got one more request, though."

"Hm?"

"Can you please change the music to like, anything else?"

Sevika snorts. She'd quickly learned over the past few days to tune the music out the best she could.

"No can do," she shakes her head. "I promised Jinx full control over the sound system for a week as long as she'd leave explosives alone in the meantime. She's trying to get me to break and let her go back to throwing glitter-filled Molotov cocktails across the bridge. Can't have that— enforcers are already on her ass about it."

"Damn," you complain. "Sounds like she's got a bright future in psychological warfare ahead of her."

Finally, the screw in her arm is tightened. She leans back with another chuckle, puts the screwdriver down, and reaches into her pocket for a cigarillo instead.

"You're tellin' me."

──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

A few days later, you're seated on the couch in Sevika's apartment nursing a glass of wine; Sevika, a glass of whiskey.

Scratch nursing— she sits down next to you and promptly throws the whole thing back.

"Janna," you gawk. "Long day?"

"Don't get me started. Council was even bitchier than usual today, and the only peace I got between that and picking up Isha— who refused bedtime last night—"

You wince upon imagining the morning that must have created.

"was the 15-minute car ride from the office to her school."

"Damn," you shake your head, "that's rough. Do you wanna… I don't know… reschedule, or something?"

"No, no, no," Sevika quickly replies. "Not necessary. Besides…"

The shit-eating grin she gives you warns of the nonsense she's about to spout.

"I need to blow off some steam."

"Dude," you cringe, choking back a laugh, "can you please just, like… try not to be weird about this?"

"You're boring," she smirks, leaning forward to place her empty glass onto the coffee table.

"I'm absolutely not."

"You are. And, as it turns out, you've never kissed anyone, but I can only fix one of those things."

You roll your eyes, placing your own glass down and turning toward her fully.

"Alright then, smartass," you grin. "Teach me how to kiss. What do I do?"

"Well," Sevika exhales, "that depends. You ever watch porn?"

"Hello?"

"Or, like… just— anything that includes people kissing. Makin' out. You know."

You chuckle, breathless and appalled.

"Uh… I mean… sometimes?" You shrug, face already heating up.

"Okay," she nods. "Is there anything you've seen that you like? That you don't like? Some people see tongue action and get grossed out. Other people see it and wanna get in on it. So, tell me what interests you, and we'll start there."

It takes everything within you not to yank the blanket off the back of the couch and hide underneath it for the rest of your days.

But, you remind yourself once more: this is Sevika. She's seen it all, she's heard it all, and if she didn't want to hear this, she wouldn't have asked.

"Um… well… I'm not put off by tongue, for starters."

She snorts at that.

"Keep talkin'," she encourages, standing to walk to the kitchen and pour herself another drink.

You furrow your brows, parsing your brain for all of the porn and "anything that includes people kissing" you've seen and considering what you liked.

"I mean, a whole lotta tongue right off the bat is probably a bit much for me, but, like… as long as there's plenty of lead up to it, I think it's hot."

"What does 'lead up' mean to you?" She asks, sitting back down.

"Damn. You a sex therapist now, or something?"

She lifts a shoulder. "I think I could be good at that."

"You know what? True," you nod.

"Answer my question, though."

"Oh, yeah— right. Lead up…"

You consider her question as you chew on the inside of your cheek.

"I guess, like, kissing that's just on the mouth? No tongue yet. Gentle, slow… but then when there is tongue,"

Sevika's brows raise as you sit up straight to deliver your strong opinion.

"you can't just immediately go in full force. You've gotta test the waters first… like, just a little bit of—"

You freeze as the ridiculousness of French-kissing logistics dawns on you, and then, you burst into laughter.

"I'm sorry," you giggle, shaking your head, "This feels so stupid."

"It's not," Sevika asserts, watching fondly as you bury your face in your hands. "I was right there with you."

"Really?" you whine, hands falling to your lap. "'Cause it feels silly."

"It's not silly," she shakes her head, scooting closer. "I agree. Too much tongue right off the bat is a no-go. That's step one down— figuring out what you like. Second step is figuring out what your partner likes, and we seem to be in agreement, so we've got that step down, too."

"Oh, yeah? What's the third step, then?"

You're almost certain you see her eyes flicker down to your lips for just a moment.

Regardless, when her gaze meets your own, there's something in it that you haven't seen before. Something sultry. Something sure.

"You show me what you like."

Your eyes go the slightest bit wider.

"Show you? Like… the porn I watch? Or…"

"Kiss me, Y/n. Only way to learn is to try."

You go still. Your heart starts beating a little faster.

"Oh," you breathe. "Are you… Are you sure?"

"Are you?"

"Yes! Yes— I mean… yeah."

She chuckles as you grimace at your own awkward fumbling.

And then, she reaches forward. Cradles your jaw with a warm hand. Leans in until your lips are a hairsbreadth away from hers.

"Go ahead, then. Show me what you like."

It isn't smooth at first. Neither of you tries to pretend it is.

You lean forward just enough that your mouth brushes hers, pull back because you get too flustered, and then try again, firmly planting your lips to her own as you both chuckle through it all.

"Stop smiling," she mumbles into the kiss.

"You're smiling, too," you mumble back.

"No 'm not."

"I can feel-"

"Okay," she pulls back to scold you, though the smile is still present on her lips, "talk or kiss. You pick. We can't do both."

"Kiss, kiss," you giggle, reaching up to cradle her face, too. "Sorry— definitely kiss."

"Yeah?" She nods, the hand that was against your cheek now gently grasping your wrist. "You sure?"

"I'm sure," you nod back.

"Good. C'mere."

Something crackles in the air this time. You're quicker to find your footing. It's easier to settle into a rhythm.

And before you know it, you're both breathing heavy, refusing to pull away, tongues darting out to trace each other's bottom lip.

When you finally do pull away, it's only to catch your breath.

Your faces stay close. Your breath stays ragged. Your hand stays on her face, and her hand stays on your hip— though you don't even remember it landing there.

"Good?" She murmurs, grey irises glittering and pupils gone wide.

You're still breathless as you reply.

"Yeah… yeah, that was good."

"Not the kiss, doll. You. Are you good?"

"Oh," you pull back in surprise, "y-yeah. I'm… I'm really good, actually."

"Yeah?" A lazy smirk pulls at her swollen lips. "Ready to get out there and kiss some dimes?"

The fact is, she's the only person you've really thought about kissing lately, and after what just happened, you know damn well that's not changing any time soon.

But you don't mention that. You just nod, still breathless and buzzing.

"Yeah. I'm ready." ──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚── When Sevika swings her apartment door open for you, she's met with your defeated smile.

"What's wrong, baby?" She asks, stepping aside to let you in. "Date didn't go well?"

You shrug off your coat with a sigh and hang it on the rack as she closes the door behind you.

"It was fine. Great, actually, which is what sucks."

"Oh, shit… too much tongue too early, huh?"

You bark out a laugh, leaning against the door and letting your head fall back against the wood.

"No, no… nothing like that."

Your eyes narrow as you think.

"Something like that, actually…"

She tilts her head to the side, brows knitting together.

"Do tell."

"I just… I don't know. We kissed. It was… fine. Just fine. Which, I don't really get, because, technically, they did everything right. Didn't come on too strong or too fast. A tasteful amount of tongue."

Sevika can't help but chortle at that.

"Then what was the matter?"

You stare up at her for a moment, eyes darting across her features like you'll find the answer somewhere in them.

And then, your eyes meet hers, and you remember how her irises looked all glassy and her pupils looked all blown-out, and the answer is suddenly right in front of you.

"What are you—"

"Can I kiss you?"

You half expect her to look at you like you're crazy. Or laugh at you, maybe.

What you don't expect is for her to step forward, put her hands on your hips, and lean in.

"Yeah, doll," she whispers. "Course you can."

There's no scrambling for rhythm this time.

Your lips meet, and you melt, your arms coming up to wrap around her shoulders.

It's slow at first, just as you like it. Tender. Gentle.

And then, it's not.

Then, it's hands twisting in the fabric of each other's clothes, breaths mingling with one another's, tongues finally dancing.

"Sorry," you pull away to pant, "haven't really had my tongue in somebody else's mouth before, so it's probably not the most graceful—"

"Talk or kiss, baby," Sevika interrupts. "Talk or kiss."

──˚₊ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 ‧₊˚──