{ happier }

“Babe…” He uttered. Shit. Fuck old habits. “Look,” He leaned down a bit so that he could see her eyes more clearly. “There’s no deep reason for why I’m really here. I still have questions. You can’t just expect me to forget about you.” No, he had come way too far for that. Literally.

Nodding her head, she tried to press her lips into a small smile but when that failed she only lifted her hand to rest against his arm. “I’m glad you’re here.” She finally said, squeezing her fingers lightly. “I mean that.” She wanted to kiss him, or at the very least hug him but she didn’t deserve too--and that realization stung more than anything else. “Do you like the place?” Though she’d asked a question, her gaze moved to his lips, her own lesser one finding its way between teeth.

Ryanne didn’t bother knocking as her fingers curled around the knob and turned it silently. From there it took only a moment for her to slip into the apartment, and just another few seconds to find her brother, his back turned to her as she slumped down onto his couch. “I hate everything.” She announced, with an overly dramatic sigh, hues glancing over his silhouette. “Everything except you.”

There was only so much self-control that he had. So when he ended up at his ex-wife’s cafe,  he wasn’t really sure how he had gotten there. Miguel didn’t even have time to say hi before he was being taken into her office space. “I know we’re not,” Since when did he ever listen? Probably about never. “We just never finished talking,” He mentioned. Was it also fair to tell her that he missed her and just wanted to see her again? No, exes didn’t do that. Right? “I’m sorry, okay? I just can’t not see you.”

Even under the circumstances, Ryanne found herself selfishly satisfied that Miguel couldn’t stay away. No matter their history, and after everything that had happened, he still somehow found her. It gave just the smallest glimmer of hope, even if she couldn’t voice it. “Yeah, I know the feeling.” She muttered, dropping her gaze from his as she sighed. “Even if it’s the worst idea you’ve had since moving here, I’m still happy you came.” With that, she rolled onto her tiptoes and glanced around her office making sure all the doors and windows were properly shut. When she was sure no one could see them, even if they tried, she offered him a small smile. “Why are you really here?”

           “Sorry, sorry,” David chuckled, lifting up his hands as he stepped closer. “I had to get closer somehow, didn’t I? What did you want me to do, jump from car to car instead?”, he joked, leaning against the car with his arms folded over his chest as he looked at her. His brows arched as his eyes fell to the flask in her hand. “Thanks, but I don’t need anything”, he stated, as he didn’t drink alcohol and wasn’t about to start again tonight. “Go ahead, I’m ready when you are. And if the shots are that ridiculously expensive, they’ll just be on me.”

Rolling her eyes, Ryanne offered him a look. At the very least he was pretty, even if he was annoying. “I appreciate that you’re a gentleman, even if it’s a considerably boring one.” With that she gestured with her head towards the bar, holding out her arm to the man. “You can at least dance with me until I’m convinced my feet may just fall off, then you can carry me home, but that’s it because I still hate you.”

Maggie worried at her bottom lip rather than point out that bad things happened when she ‘got laid.’ Despite the fact that the trauma was already a couple months past, she still wasn’t ready to get back in the saddle, so to speak. But the fear of disappointing won out nine times out of ten, so if Ryanne said jump, the only follow-up question was how high. She dumbly accepted the flask as it was handed to her, her nerves and the sudden flurry of movement enough to mesmerize her until the next thing she knew, she was taking a pull, wincing as the liquid burned its way down her throat. “What? No - I can’t walk in those things. Plus, I’ve got monster feet. No way I’m fitting in your Cinderella shoes…” 

Frowning, Ryanne once more held out the heels to Maggie, jingling them by their laces. “They stretch, trust me.” Everyone knew, there was no way the brunette would so easily give up her mission to trade shoes, and once they were finally accepted, and the flask had been drained, she merely grabbed her friend's hand and began tugging. “Look, I need this.” Ever since Miguel had rolled back into her city, Ryanne had been a mess. Questioning everything, and unable to stop thinking. Not even the strong promise of shots could keep her sanity in check. Thus she was here, and poor Maggie had been roped into her commission. “I just want to forget, like everything. Sorry, never asked--how was your week Mags?”  

“Honestly?  Walked in the wrong door,”  Johnny admits,  rueful little smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.   “My bad.”  He’s already turned toward the door when she speaks again and he glances back at her,  shaking his head.   “Nah, sorry, can’t drink.  Not allowed.  Meds.”

Nodding her head, Ryanne gave him a once over before lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “Don’t worry, I won’t pressure you to drink but you will dance, Johnny boy.” The two had met before and though they barely knew each other, the woman had no qualms about taking his hand as she began tugging him towards the floor. “Please?”

Maggie tugged uncomfortably at the hem of her dress, wishing that the designer had seen fit to add a couple extra inches of fabric at the bottom. She felt ridiculous, and like she looked every bit as out of place as she currently felt. “I was secretly hoping you’d ditched so I could go back home to pajamas and pizza,” she sighed. Of course, deep down she was grateful for Ryanne forcing her out tonight, but she still had the last episode of Chernobyl in her HBO Go queue so it was a bit of a toss-up. “I’m good,” she waved off the offer. “I think I’m gonna stick with Diet Coke tonight.” 

As much as she liked Maggie, sometimes the woman was just too timid. “You’ll never have real fun, or get laid if you stay home every Friday night.” Rolling her eyes, she reached for her friend's arm, pulling her forward as emerald hues investigated the other’s outfit. “I like your dress, your shoes could’ve been a bit higher but it’s fine.” Though at the mention of Diet Coke, the brunette began shaking her head, already digging the little golden flask out from her purse and handing it to her friend. “Here, chug.” With that, she dropped the cigarette, using the toe of her heel to stomp it out. “Lord knows I’m not getting laid anytime soon, so I’m living through you. Which means you need liquid confidence,” Pausing she glanced down at her friend’s shoes one last time. “Switch shoes, come on.” Already she was kicking off her own. 

Out of all the places she could’ve run into Miguel, she hadn’t expected it to be her cafe as the door chimed and the tall man entered. With one of her waitresses locating her moments later to alert her to the hot biker asking for her by name. It had sent a nervous wave through the brunette, as she glanced around the restaurant before quickly grabbing his arm, and nearly dragging him into her small office. “I thought I told you, we shouldn’t be seen in public together.” Brows pulled together as she stared up at him, suddenly realizing just how close the pair was, her hand still resting on his arm. “El, what are you doing here?”