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Lottie’s pissed, and she thinks she has every right to be. She was promised a ‘girls night’ from Tai and Van, to compensate for the shittiness of ex boyfriends and teachers and parents. She’d been expecting a night in, movies, makeup, whatever, and yeah, she knows Tai and Van aren’t those types of girls, but c’mon . Lottie doesn’t think a gay bar buried under a bookshop is the cure to the shittiness of previously mentioned hindrances.
“Cool, right?” Tai asks over her shoulder, as they pile in the already awake bar. “We just found this place, maybe a month ago.”
“Totally,” Lottie agrees half-heartedly, checking her watch. “How long do you think you’ll be here?”
“You’ll?” Tai repeats, titling her head.
Van shoots her an amused smile, bright and playful. “Don’t be like that, we’ll have funnn.”
She doesn’t know what kind of fun Van was talking about, but she knows what she would have found fun. She knows what she would have found fun down here , not like it’s ever possible to happen. And she knows that fun is not watching Tai and Van on the dance floor, Van’s hand on her stomach, Tai’s hand in Van’s hair, the two of them getting down and dirty to some fucking trashy garage band.
Yeah, Lottie’s pretty pissed.
Not that she’ll ever directly verbalize it. That’s the difference between her and Tai, she thinks. Tai is blunt, upfront. If she doesn’t like something, she’ll say it, plan out of it, around it. Lottie, though? Lottie is nothing but self doubt and conflict. Sometimes she doesn’t trust her brain. The truth is complicated. A part of Lottie’s glad to have been invited. A part of Lottie wishes she was in Tai’s place. A part of Lottie resents that desire. And another part of her wishes she was alone, right now. Even surrounded by people.
“Hey, sweetheart,” a suave voice rings out from beside her. A woman with dark lipstick smiles at her. Lottie isn’t sure if she’s making fun of her or maybe Lottie’s in her seat, until she asks “Buy you a drink?”
Oh.
Right, she forgot that was a thing that happened. She just didn’t expect it.
“No thank you,” Lottie says, putting her hair back and sitting up. “I’m just waiting for my friends.”
The woman raises a dark, thin brow. “Helps pass the time.”
“They’re out there,” Lottie says, motioning towards the corner of the floor where they are. “We’re getting ready to go.”
The woman examines Tai and Van and chuckles. “Sweetheart, those two aren’t going to leave until the bar closes. But hey, you get thirsty, call me first.”
“First?” Lottie asks with a frown.
The woman smiles, leaning in close. “You can’t say you don’t see it,” she says, almost tauntingly. “Your little purse, your little skirt and those precious, precious eyes… you’ve got them lining up, sweetheart.”
Lottie looks around, curiously. The bar is dark, only lit by the creeping light of the dancefloor, but there’s another woman, with slicked hair and a wifebeater, who catches her eye in mid conversation and smiles at her. Another woman down the bar, who looks almost younger than she does, who meets her eyes shyly and darts her gaze away.
“So let me know,” The woman says and pushes herself away from the bar, leaning in. “The drinks here? Expensive as hell, doll.”
Lottie swallows at the name. The woman smiles and saunters away. Lottie doesn’t really- she doesn’t think she likes femmes, she’s never been with one, but she thinks she could like one like that. Maybe one a little closer to her age, but a woman with that sort of confidence and gait… she could get it.
Lottie utters a small laugh at the thought and turns back to her miserable little bar notch, drawing circles on the bar and wondering if she should just… leave. Because she doesn’t really want this, the pressure and the eyes, even if the attention is a good distraction. She thinks she’d rather go home and fall asleep in front of her TV set, if she wanted distraction.
Her own fault, going out with Tai and Van in the first place. They’re good friends, but the entire team, hell, the entire campus knows they only have eyes for each other. Lottie’s just one of the unfortunate fools who got caught in between.
“You idiots are going to get kicked out,” A voice hisses behind her. Lottie looks over her shoulder. “Just be cool and I’ll look for her, Christ almighty.”
A short bottle blonde with deep, dark eyeliner and a leather jacket surveys the bar, the people sitting there. She’s got a serious set of lips- Lottie is tempted to bite her own.
The blonde meets her eyes for a second. Lottie doesn’t snap forward, but she does turn back, eyes flitting along her empty place. Shit, how weird she must look, just sitting there without a drink, maybe she should have accepted that woman’s proposal-
“Hey,” she hears, that same voice. Blondie comes up next to her, nods casually. Lottie’s heart jumps excitedly. “It’s you, right?”
Lottie tilts her head. “Uh, what's me?”
Blondie smiles, her eyes dart side to side. “You’re the chick I was supposed to meet yesterday. Right?”
Said chick is obviously not Lottie, and Lottie doubts a girl like this would ever want to meet up with her, let alone in a bar. She’s a magazine punk, ripped from the front page with her uncaringly perfect mussed hair and layered leather over stylistic plaid. Her lips are maroon, Lottie can’t stop staring at them. She’s worlds away from Lottie’s obligatory Saturday morning breakfasts with her parents at the country club and fantasized girl nights of nail-painting with the new Drew Barrymore.
So she has no idea why she says, “Yeah, that's me.”
Boredom, maybe. Attraction, definitely. Lottie’s flirtation methods aren’t really fine tuned to a place like this, but she can make it work. This girl is direct, Lottie can be direct.
Blondie smirks. “Cool. So how do you want to do this?”
Annnnd Lottie has made a mistake. She thinks desperately, tries for a smile. “However you want.”
Blondie raises a brow, eyes dark. “We could go outside,” she says lowly, and a thrill runs through Lottie’s gut. Go outside… in a place like this? “Or you can just whip it out here.”
Lottie’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, whip it out here - are you serious?”
Blondie frowns. “It’s bagged, isn’t it?” she says defensively.
“Oh my God .”
Blondie looks at her friends behind her and mouths something. Lottie is trying to wonder what the hell she got herself into. “Look, no biggie, just give it to me here and now.”
“Okay, have a little decency,” Lottie hisses under her breath. “I mean, really.”
Blondie snorts, crossing her arms. “Decency? Uh huh, sure. That’s why we’re meeting in a place like this, right?”
“People meet in bars all the time,” Lottie defends, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Look, I don’t- tell me your name. That’s a good start.”
The girl raises her eyebrows. “I thought this was a no name operation.”
“It doesn’t always have to be,” Lottie murmurs.
Blondie sizes her up and leans against the bar, nodding. “Sure. Alright. Name’s Nat.”
“And I’m Lottie.”
“That’s cute,” Nat says, smiling in a shrewd way. Her tongue dances over her teeth. “Is that your real name?”
“Of course it’s my real name,” Lottie says, rolling her eyes. “I’m named after my mom. Charlotte.”
“Just asking, princess,” Nat says, sticking her hands in her pockets.
Lottie likes that name from her lips. She likes it a lot, more than when boys will spit it, or when girls will use it to mock. “What about you, is your name real?” Lottie asks. “Nat? Sounds very insectile.”
Nat snickers. “Haven’t heard that one before. But yeah, Natalie, if you want to be boring about it.”
“I think it’s a nice name,” Lottie mutters, abashed.
“You’re a little high strung. You new to this or something?”
“Is it… that obvious?”
Nat huffs a low laugh and leans on her forearms towards Lottie, like she’s about to tell a secret. Or something a little… dirtier. “Between me and you, you don’t usually ask people’s names. You just… give and take.”
Well, Lottie’s too deep in it now to get out. She doesn’t really know if she wants to, either. There’s something inside of her that’s purring, a low heat simmering in her gut. She adjusts on her seat, brushing down her skirt, but that smile on Nat’s face grows. “Is that it?” she asks.
“What?”
“You know…”
Lottie swallows, and nods. Nat’s close. Closer, Lottie can make out the black oily clumps in her lashes. Is she going to-
A gloved hand falls onto her knee, the leather cool against the nylon of her tights. It makes a satisfying texture. Lottie’s breath shakes but she can’t tear away from Nat’s piercing eyes. “You don’t do this a lot, do you?” Nat asks lowly.
Lottie can’t trust herself not to moan if she opens her mouth. That’s so embarrassing. This whole thing is so embarrassing, and she’s never been more turned on in her life.
“That’s alright,” Nat says, easing her glove up the gilded darkness of her thighs, up to the fringe of her jean skirt. “I mean, you’re very covert, and I definitely wouldn’t like strangers feeling me up all the time.”
Lottie finds her voice once Nat’s hand reaches her pocket. “I don’t mind that it’s you.”
Nat pauses, and looks up at her darkly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, uh,” Nat grins, a tad nervous, previous confidence gone. “10 out of 10 for shipping and handling… maybe we can do business another time.”
Lottie’s mind, drifting happily down the gutter, comes to an abrupt realization as Nat’s hand dives into her skirt pocket. She can’t help it: she starts to laugh.
“What the…” Nat mutters, pulling the fabric of her skirt pocket out. “What, is it in your purse or something?”
Lottie grins, shakes her head. “You’re… you’re looking for drugs, aren’t you?”
Nat’s eyes widen, and she looks around. “Well, duh. What are you saying that out loud for, I thought you were-”
“It’s not me,” Lottie whispers between them. “I don’t have any. I thought… well,” she erupts into laughter. “I thought you were trying to pick me up.”
Nat looks at her, and looks at her friends. One of them is staring at her with his mouth open, the other has his face in his hands. “What- are you serious ?”
“You can’t blame a girl for hoping.”
“What the fuckkk,” Nat groans into her hands. “You fucking… gatekept me.”
“Gatekept? You made the move first!”
“Yeah, cause I thought you had shrooms!”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Lottie teases. Nat flushes, shakes her head. “I thought we had something real.”
“Do you usually let strangers feel you up under the pretense of looking for drugs?” Nat asks, an unbelieving smile on her face.
“No, but I might now.”
“And I thought I was special.”
“You are.”
Nat looks at her, a frenzied light in her eyes. Lottie wants her to look at her like that forever. She wants her eyes and her hands and those lips on her, and something about the way she returns Nat’s look must make this ring true to her, because Nat steps back into her space, like she's breaching new territory.
“Don’t say that to me,” Nat says, voice low and husky. “I’ll start to get ideas you want me to stick around.”
“Maybe I do,” Lottie says. She can’t keep her eyes off her lips, and apparently, neither can Nat, because she jerks her gaze away.
“I- you need to stop,” she says. Lottie laughs, looking away. “With those eyes. I’m on a mission, and you’re- stop, seriously. Who’s the actual drug dealer here?”
Lottie thinks she knows. “Nat,” she whispers, and smiles, for anyone watching. She tilts her head covertly. “Down there.”
Nat follows her nod down the end of the bar. The girl hasn’t stopped looking down the bar at her in a way that maybe was attraction, but definitely anxiety. Now, she’s cherry red and staring at them with wide eyes.
“That’s your girl,” Lottie says, leaning close. They’re practically nose to nose, but Nat isn’t looking at her and Lottie desperately wants her to. So she goes the extra mile, plants a soft kiss on her cheek. It works like a charm.
Nat looks at her with a sexy expression, considering and heady. God, her ex boyfriend could never shake her with just a look. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Lottie breathes.
“Was sort of hoping it was you.”
Lottie smiles, and nudges Nat’s thigh with her knee. “It still can be.”
Nat considers her, tucks her finger under Lottie’s chin. “Stay here, princess.”
“Hurry up,” Lottie dares.
Nat saunters away, down the bar to the girl. She doesn’t get as close to her and she did her, Lottie notes. She can’t help but to feel pleased upon the recognition. She just says a few words and places her hand on the bar. The girl fumbles with her pockets, and rather bluntly slides a slick little bag under the crevice of her hand.
Nat smiles at her, and the girl looks so entranced. Lottie smirks, watching Nat amble away and thinking, nope, she’s mine .
Nat reconvenes with her friends, who gather around her talking a mile a minute. Lottie can’t hear their chatter over the music, but one of them gestures with both of his hands, like he’s urging her to do something. The other one meets Lottie’s eyes and looks away stonily. Jealous puppy. Lottie knows how it is, and her thoughts flit back to Tai and Van buried in the dancefloor. She’s not pissed anymore. In fact, she’s a little embarrassed she was in the first place. She’s excited now, in more ways than one. It’s a good place to be. The truth is, she hasn’t been this turned on in her life and she’s as close as ever to someone real and concrete, someone pretty and cool and so very very different from the rest of her life.
Nat, meanwhile, grins and passes her friend the bag. She calls something over her shoulder and strides back to Lottie, so cool, so confident. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Lottie repeats.
“We should maybe start this off differently,” Nat says. “You uh, come here often?”
“I like how we started,” Lottie says, playing with her fingers. “But… I can buy you a drink.”
“No offense, but I literally have a vodka cranberry and orange in my trunk that’s better than anything they could cook up,” Nat says. She shoots Lottie a nervous smile. “That is, if you’re into that.”
“You could offer me orange juice and I’d drink it,” Lottie says honestly.
Nat flushes, but shakes her head, looking at Lottie like she's a puzzle or something. “You don’t like orange juice?”
“I used to,” Lottie says. “What, is that a turn off or something?”
Nat exhales through her teeth and shoves her hands in her pockets. “Yeah, I don’t know if I can hook up with a girl who doesn’t like her vitamin D.”
Lottie grins. It’s too easy. “That should make me the prime candidate.”
When Nat understands, she cackles. It’s such a sexy laugh, Lottie swears her insides clench at it. “I guess I should take it as a compliment,” she says. “Come on, I need to see that skirt on my car floor.”
“Need to, huh?”
“Gravely,” Nat says.
“Alright,” Lottie says, slipping off her stool and picking up her purse. “Do you mind waiting? I have to tell my friends.”
“Sure,” Nat says easily. “I’ll wait outside.”
She’s just so cool, and Lottie can’t bear not to have her hands on her for a second. “Okay,” she says, and her voice remains a totally normal pitch. Nat shoots her a grin.
“I’m sorry, what,” Taissa says in a way that doesn’t make it sound like a question at all.
“I met someone,” Lottie recounts, looking to the exit with a smile.
“Uh, hello? You just met this random chick and you’re leaving with her?” Taissa says, and crosses her arms. “Do you even have a last name ?”
Lottie thinks, glowing. “Uh, I don’t think so. But she doesn’t have mine either.”
Taissa throws her hands up in the air while Van snickers and rubs her nose. “That’s cool, I guess. I think we can trust Lot’s judgment, babe.”
“Are you insane? Lottie-”
“I have my phone,” she says, waving her big chunky cell at them. “I have pepper spray, but really guys, this girl-” she shakes her head, tucks her hair behind her ears. “She’s something else.”
Tai crosses her arms, eyes her skeptically. “Whatever, just call us when you get home. Or else we’ll make Misty Quigly track you down.”
“That’s pretty much her blessing,” Van says with a grin, shaking Tai’s shoulder and leaning on them. “Have fun . You see! Perfect fix! Doctor's orders!”
“Oh my god, stop,” Tai groans, pulling at Van's shoulders.
“You know, I've been feeling down myself…”
Grinning, Lottie shakes her head and walks up the stairs. The cool evening air hits her, smooth and fresh. She exhales and looks to the side. Nat glows in the red light of the city street, the flickering lights shining off the hard planes of her face. She stares ahead, black boots planted firmly on the concrete, leaning against the wall.
Lottie could stare at her forever. “Hey,” she says.
Nat looks at her and flashes a sharp grin. “Well, look at this. You got mommy and daddy’s permission to play?”
“Yeah, but I have to be home by curfew.”
“We can get into a lot of things by curfew, you’ll see.”
“Like a vodka cranberry and orange?”
Nat smiles and pushes herself off the wall. “That and so much more.”
Lottie wants a taste. She lets Nat take her hand, and follows her eagerly into the night.