ᵍᵒᵗ ᵃ ᵇᵒʸᶠʳᶦᵉᶰᵈ ᵃᶰʸʷᵃʸ﹔

“ - holy shit. Are you alright?”

Jasmin was just minding her own business. Why the fuck did everyone in this town walk so slow? Impatiently, she pushed by the guy or tried. Instead she just hit him and the ground. “No, I’m dying. Asshole.” 

“This year is going to be an amazing one for the store, since my grandmother founded it 50 years ago. I’ve been trying to think of things to do to celebrate it, but I can’t seem to come up with anything fun. Do you have any ideas?“

Jasmin rubbed her temples. She tried. She really did but there was just so much talking and cheerfulness. “Not a fucking clue, but if you have anything for a hangover that would be awesome, dude.”

She’d always fallen hardest for people who cared, selfless people who looked out for their own. As a nurturer herself she valued that, especially when it came from the unlikeliest of people. Val had felt special around Jasmin for that, that she couldn’t deny. And she didn’t think that as Jasmin had opened up to her how easily it could be yanked away again with one of those musical laughs. It was one thing to be in the dark, but once she walked away from this… Val knew no matter how much she could pine and miss the blonde there wouldn’t be any advantage to reaching out again. Even the insult slid off her back; it was minor compared to everything else that had already happened. “I will. Have fun with… whoever. Bye,” she said curtly, wanting that last word before she left. Had she been (somehow) a little more bitter she might’ve offered a sarcastic ‘welcome back’. She’d come uninvited to the wedding in a curious search for someone unavailable, only to find the one someone who’d rejected her in the worst way. One last glance at her, if only to remind herself that this feeling wasn’t something she wanted, and Val turned away, striding back into the crowd.

There was no logic in Val expecting anything different from her. Years of knowing Jasmin Baker meant that Val knew she was being nothing but candid. Perhaps she’d assumed too far and felt too much but Val could only see the flaw in Jaz caring too little. And not in the right way. That smile was infuriating; almost as infuriating were the angry tears that prodded at the edge of her eyes. Val had never gotten closure on this. Of course she had new friends, and a new person to pour all her infatuations into again, but caring was never a finite resource for Val. Jasmin still had that stupid hold on her, tugged sharply at it with every flippant remark. Even now an unnecessary voice in the back of her mind had long noted how good Jaz looked tonight. “That’s just an excuse for what you really mean,” she muttered, finally able to hold her gaze because hell, Val had never felt in the wrong about what had happened between them. “Don’t act like I pulled it out of nowhere. You had time to think about that and about all the other stuff. It was different. I know you, and I did all the right things. So I don’t care if… that you don’t care,” she lied. Another step back towards the crowd of well dressed folks on the dance floor. “Stay away from me? You’re good at that.”

“You have no idea what I mean,” she scoffed. Maybe she didn't know either. That was part of the problem with them. Jasmin didn't know much of anything. Everything was so black and white for her. If she landed in the black, she didn't care. It was just space. Wrong and right was so irrelevant to her but Val had been her gray area. “Are you that daft? Clearly you don't know me at if you think that--” She shook her head. For someone that didn't care, Val sure had a way of winding her up. It was annoying. “Good, I'm glad you don't.” Petulance was a bit of a strong suit of hers. Clearing her throat, she nodded. There was a small weight on her chest. Had she not known better, she'd have thought she saw unshed tears in her eyes. But she did know better. No one cried over her. The sinking feeling came from knowing that this was so final. The uncertainty etched itself in her features for a brief second. There would be the void in her life now. In Paris, she could pretend it didn't exist. She was able to distract herself. Now she was in their old stomping grounds. Things would inevitably remind her of different periods of their old friendship and almost whatever else. Almost was a tricky word-- a tricky feeling but she'd be alright. “You go first this time,” she shrugged, laughing humorlessly while her walls returned to their original point. 

“Morgan, yeah,” she supplied the name without pause, not missing the way Jasmin described her. Of course Jasmin was right (it was getting to be a habit that was annoying Val tonight) and of course Val had no reason to get so ruffled over it. “I’d say she’s my best friend nowadays. I love her. She gets me.” Ruffled, petty, bitter – different names for the same feeling of wanting to wound her just a little. And of course Jasmin had to qualify missing her with ‘not like that’. Because they weren’t like that, and Val had been the idiot who had assumed otherwise. How kind of Jaz to remind her. But it was honesty, and after weeks of having no contact with one of her former closest friends she had to admit it was something she’d craved. “Yeah?“ That word hung in the air for too long. ”I did too, at first,” she continued, staring at the leftover champagne in Jaz’s glass instead of her. One day it would stop feeling like a small cut every time a casual comment left her lips. “When I thought you’d message me back after a couple weeks. And then you didn’t. You were around all the time and then you weren’t.” She took a step back from the table and from her, done with snacking for the night. “So maybe you didn’t miss me that much, not until Paris stopped being as cool.”

Jasmin dismissively waved her hand as the girl's name was said aloud. Frankly, she couldn't care less what her name was. Like most people, she was just a pretty face and a hot body. Nothing more nor anything else. “That's nice,” she hummed, wondering why Val was telling her about their friendship. Was it supposed to make her jealous? The blonde didn't necessarily have a long list of friends but the ones she did-- she was pretty close to and that had once been Val. Her brow raised as she listened to her speak. Taking her bottom lip between her teeth, she nodded. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe she realized in that moment that just maybe she didn't actually give a damn. She was done feeling like she wasn't good enough for her. After what happened, that was her first waking thought. Even when she'd gotten back into town that had prominently taken over. That wasn't to say that Val wasn't an amazing woman because she was. And Jasmin would always think that. “You know what,” she laughed, feeling a sense of relief. “I'm done pretending like this was all my fault. I know what I did. I know everything I did but I am not going to keep beating myself up. You were just as responsible for what happened. Yes, I fucked you and fucked off. But....” she swallowed hard. If this was anyone but Val she might not have censored herself so much. “Screw you. You knew what you were getting into. You knew exactly who I was. I never hid that for you. You don't want to be my friend? I don't really care? Austen was always better anyway. She never expected me to be anyone but me.” Shrugging her shoulders a genuine smile pulled at her lips. “I really don't care.”

Paris. Finally getting some information shouldn’t have brought her any hint of relief, and it shouldn’t have eased those nights Val would drive by the other’s place squinting at what she knew was her bedroom window. It had been long enough that she’d been able to compartmentalize being abandoned, in her mind. It was so dramatic and needy and she wasn’t going to ask about the company Jasmin had kept in a stupid romantic city while at a stranger’s wedding with drops of chocolate sauce dripping onto her fingers. “You’re right. I do make them better. It’s all in the pastry and if you overfill the cream it’s done for,” she said, hearing her voice soften against her own will at the compliment. Jasmin was also right in that it didn’t matter; Val tried again to steel herself. “So you’re back at work then? I bet the team missed you.” She wasn’t even going to tease that she was one of those things to come back to. “Things are the same mostly. I’m still training here and there. Oh, and those two new roommates I got actually stuck around; they’re pretty amazing.” She left out the part about her (unofficial) third housemate. “I don’t even have to go out for coffee anymore… not that I’d want to but our place is filled with the stuff.”

Jasmin nodded as though she understood what the brunette was going on about. She didn't quite. All of the pastries she sold came frozen. They were less fresh than even what was sold at Starbucks. A breathy laugh lasted a beat or two. It was as though they were on the same wavelength. Only nothing could be further from the truth these days. There was a time that she'd like to think they were pretty in sync. “I don't know about all that. Umberto’s waiting for the day I finally quit for good. Can't blame the bastard, you know.” She'd been working there since she was old enough to hold a job. It was a mystery to her as to why he kept letting her come back. “Oh? You mean Jason and that uh... the hot brunette, right?” Jasmin merely remembered the latter in passing-- if even that. She didn’t recall her in any way besides being cute; typical. Jason however, she'd taken a liking to him. He was a stand-up guy. Again her head moved, this time it was more of gesture in acknowledgment. Jasmin wondered how grateful Val was being that she wouldn't have to inconveniently run into her. “If you ever gotta buy your own shit again-- you know you can always come by. You can still get your discount since I'm sure Umberto wouldn't mind seeing you.” Averting her gaze, she took a sip of her champagne. “And fuck, I might regret saying this shit but I wouldn't mind either because I've missed you, Val. Not like that...” Which she figured was probably a good thing on bother their behalves. “I've missed my friend. You were that first, right?”

The mechanic offered her confidant her brightest little shit grin. Of course Jaz knew - Jasmin Baker knew her better than she knew herself, most days. Too tipsy and too familiar with the other, Austen missed the hesitation there. But she couldn’t miss the abrupt stop in her offer. Tilting her head in momentary confusion, she did her best to hide her fleeting surprise. In a rare moment, it took a moment for the dark-haired girl to find the words. “Do I ever?” That standard playful edge that was synonymous with Austen was almost missing - not because she was entirely serious, but because she hadn’t been able to fully mask her lingering confusion. With an irresolute half smile, she gave a sort of solute, as if her best friend had turned into a high drill Sargent. She took what she was offered. With her free hand, she clumsily retrieved the flask, handing it to the blonde. “Fair is fair.” She said, taking it between her lips and taking a long pull before passing it, too, back to her. She held it for a moment before exhaling away from the other, then - against her better judgment - turned her attention to her fully, brows furrowed. “Talk to me, darlin’. What’s going on?”

Jasmin shrugged her shoulders, taking the flask. Turning it up, she almost laughed as the harsh taste of whiskey coated her tongue. It was just so Austen and been from the first time they'd met in that dirty bar with idle flirting that went nowhere-- except the longest friendship she’d ever had. She wouldn't have expected anything less. The barista placed the metal container between them once the joint was back in her possession. Alcohol and weed by the beach. It felt so high school. So immature and misguided which was befitting to the two of them. Jasmin personally was a compass pointing to nowhere and everywhere at the same. For all her hopes and dreams, she was her worst enemy. She nearly choked up at the question-- fuck. “Nothing? Everything?” No longer holding the same appeal, she put her joint out in the sand. “I realized something when I was in Paris. You know why I'm such shit at relationships or why none of them go anywhere. Not even with the good ones... I thought it was because I don't deserve that shit. Hey, maybe I don’t. Sure as fuck not any amazing sous chefs. But that's the not the problem.” She folded her hands and placed them in her lap. Her gaze flickered to the ocean. “Can't be in love with two people at once, huh? And don't make me spell this out to you...”  

As she regarded the blonde, there was genuine surprise on her face that Jasmin had been there at Halloween. Val had a hard time giving up on people but there was a certain weariness that accompanied friends who high-tailed it and left for weeks without notice. She wasn’t sure she could even consider Jasmin a friend anymore, let alone more, and she didn’t want to take that admission as some kind of invitation to normalcy between them again. Val wouldn’t admit to missing it, either. “I didn’t know you saw the invite. I didn’t even know you’d come back,” she said dryly. She wished she could master that who-cares attitude. Val found herself feeling a twinge of jealousy at whatever friend she’d been waiting on. With the eclairs gone, Val honed in on the tabletop chocolate fountain, biting the bullet and stepping closer to her to get at the strawberries. She had to get better at forgetting how easy it used to be to throw an arm around her waist. “So why’d you come back from… wherever the hell you were? Get lonely?” 

Jasmin's brows knitted together while she itched with skepticism. From what she'd heard outside that, the party was very lively. She'd been walking the pier when she'd seen a sign. The address was one she hadn't yet forgotten. “Dude, I'm pretty sure the whole damn city saw...” Her response was laced with a quiet laugh. She chose to ignore the latter in favor of not wanting to kill her buzz. Jasmin already wasn't quite in the mood for any shred o bitterness. She possessed enough of her own which seemed to be her karma. Having to see that blonde and Austen together made her stomach churn. Uncharacteristically, her lungs overfilled with a slow and anxious breath. The closeness affected her far more than she'd anticipated or have liked. But Val wasn't just some girl you pick up at a wedding-- and even if she could be, Jasmin knew she'd burned that bridge months ago. “Paris and no, I definitely wasn't lonely.” Her lips pursed to keep her smirk from seeing the light of day. “I just ran out of money. Shit's not cheap, and I don't know-- guess I had things to come back to.” As the waiter walked by, she grabbed another glass of champagne. “Enough about me, huh? Not that it matters or anything but the shit you make is better than anything here,” she half-smiled, nostalgia kicking her in the gut at full force. Jasmin had no desire to focus on that and decided on pushing forward. “How've you been, Val? Everything good?”