Chapter Text
Azzi has never liked driving. Never in her life. She was late getting her permit at fifteen because she didn’t want to go to driver’s education, didn’t even get her license until she was seventeen because she dreaded taking the test so badly. It didn’t matter. She had her parents to drive her around, and then she could ask her friends or girlfriend to drive her, and then she had a wife to drive her everywhere. Ubering became one of her biggest expenses after the divorce.
She’s driving right now. She always drives on Saturdays because Saturdays are one of the only times she would rather drive herself than sacrifice her privacy. She’s in her Tesla, the white one that’s glossy and a few years old but hers all the same. Azzi likes this car because Kitty likes that it’s low to the ground and the center console has a screen with games on it. The lights that line the car are set to pink because it’s Kitty’s favorite color. They pulse on beat with the J. Cole song Azzi has playing softly.
She turns into Paige’s neighborhood. The gate is closed. She drives up to it, rolls down her window to lean forward and punch in the code. The summer sun and a soft breeze sweep into her car when the glass barrier is removed. The number pad is cold and it sings a harsh beep when she puts in the correct password. The gates start to swing open. They’re sleek and black and shine in the sunlight. She retracts her arm and rolls her window back up. While her hand is on the door, she reaches down into the compartment on the bottom of the door. Digs around in the bare storage space until she finds a familiar shape. Pulls out her vape, holds it to her mouth, inhales slowly while it hums softly to her.
Paige’s house is tucked into the bosom of one of the first cul-de-sacs to peel away from the main road of the neighborhood. Azzi follows the street until she finds the entrance to hers and then turns down it. She allows herself one more inhale and then sets her vape back into the compartment it had been in. The car smells sickly sweet with its smoke. Her tires slow as she nears Paige’s house. She recognizes it by the way the trees are ordered, by the way the thick bushes hiding the iron fences boxing in everyone’s properties are shaped. She passes the most protruded driveway on the whole street, the one labeled with a golden seven. Paige lives in nine.
Saturdays were the mornings chosen for the trading of Kitty because Azzi had wanted Sundays but Paige had insisted Sunday mornings must be left untouched for time to go to mass. Azzi found this interesting because Paige had stopped regularly going to church about a year before the divorce had come. Kitty had never known the Bible. The most Christian thing about their family was the cross jewelry they occasionally wore, the matching Bible verses their publicists insisted they kept as their Instagram bios, the way Azzi used to repeat Paige’s name like a prayer when they were fighting and she had nothing else to say. It felt less about mass and more about control, about Paige wanting something to fight Azzi over. But Azzi didn’t say anything when that was brought up. She just gave in.
Azzi pulls onto Paige’s driveway. Her gate, black and wrought iron and intricate just like every other gate in the community, stands tall before her. Azzi pulls up next to her keypad to put in the code. It doesn’t make a noise when she punches in the right code. It just quietly slides open, revealing the long driveway that widens into a circle around the fountain that splashes in the middle of the summer heat. From how far away Azzi is, she can see the front door already starting to open. She smiles softly to herself and starts to drive forward.
A small child dragging a few bags with her steps out from the front door and shuts it behind her. Azzi waves at her through the windshield. Kitty waves back, grinning at her. She isn’t holding much. Just a large duffel propped up on a suitcase, the familiar Vera Bradley patterning of the bag making Azzi smile a little. It’s Azzi’s bag, one she had allowed her to borrow with the intention of letting her keep it. It was for a sleepover a few months before the divorce. The suitcase, too, is one Azzi had picked out. Paige had paid for it. Paige paid for most things when they were married. When it isn’t summer, she has to bring her school backpack, too. She gets a new one every year. Paige pays.
The driveway is so pristine that not a single piece of gravel crunches as Azzi rolls to a stop in front of the front porch. The large balcony protruding off of the front of the house shades where Azzi stops, where Kitty stands on the porch. The little girl smiles at her widely. Azzi steps out of the car. She has to duck to fit her tall frame under the top of the car. When she straightens up next to it, her daughter is nearly jumping up and down, tiny hands gripping her bag as she bends and straightens her knees with excitement. Azzi laughs a little at her as she rounds the front of her car to help the girl with her bags.
“Hi, Mama!” Kitty beams at her as Azzi walks up to her. The bags are left forgotten as Azzi gets closer, abandoned in favor of a hug. Azzi crouches a little to wrap her arms around her little torso. Kitty giggles into her shoulder as she hugs her back.
“Hi, Kitty! Mama missed you,” Azzi coos. She pulls back and plants a kiss to the top of the girl’s head. She giggles again. Azzi reaches out and begins to drag her bags out onto the driveway with her. Kitty follows her. The back door of her car is opened and she starts to set her bags down on the floor to the side opposite Kitty’s car seat. “How was ballet camp? D’you have fun with Molly?”
Kitty smiles at her as she stands next to her, watching her mother put her things in the car. The sun shines on her skin. She wrings her hands out in front of her, still grinning. “Yes, a lot! I really wanna show you a dance I learned. I tried to make Mommy video me so I could send it to you, but it wouldn’t let me send it. And then I thought it would be better to do it in real life, ‘cause I think you’re gonna like it in real life more than on a video.” She sounds almost solemn as she finishes speaking.
Azzi turns to look at her. Her big brown eyes are almost sparkling at her. She’s smiling without baring her teeth, little lips stretched into a curve. Azzi grins back at her. “Oh, I’m really excited now. ‘m glad you waited to show me in person. Performances are always so much better when it’s not a video, you’re so right,” she agrees, shutting the car door. She reaches out for Kitty to take her hand. Kitty immediately obliges, tucking her small fingers into Azzi’s. Azzi, without thinking, looks up from her face and at Paige’s house.
Paige is standing in the window next to the door. She isn’t outside. She usually doesn’t come outside when Azzi picks Kitty up and Azzi usually doesn’t come outside when Paige picks her up, either. They don’t really talk at all anymore. So she’s just standing in the window, hands in her pockets, face blank. Her blue eyes lock onto Azzi’s. The glass dims the brightness of them slightly, but Azzi can still sense how striking they are, how her irises wash her entire face with something almost like a chill. “Yeah. And I also got to do a partner one with Molly. But that one I can’t show you, ‘cause we don’t have Molly in our house.”
Azzi can feel herself becoming a little stiff with awkwardness. Paige blinks at her, unmoving. She’s almost intimidating. Azzi’s brows raise just slightly at her. Paige doesn’t look away. “Shoot. Maybe we can have a playdate with her soon and you guys can show me and her parents.” She says it while tearing her eyes away from Paige’s, looking back down at their daughter. Kitty is still obliviously holding her hand in the middle of the driveway. Azzi starts to lead her around the car.
“Only if we can nemember it so long away,” she says, almost lamenting. Azzi hums in soft agreement. She opens the back door for the little girl when they reach it. Kitty climbs into the car. Her pink car seat waits for her and Azzi watches as she settles herself on top of it, grunting quietly. She shuts the door when she hears the click of her seatbelt buckling.
Azzi walks back to the driver’s seat. Opens the door, slips in, is careful to duck extra far forward so as to not hit her head on the car. The seat is cool and welcomes her. An Olivia Dean song has come on. Kitty is humming the lyrics in a way that slightly doesn’t match up. Azzi glances up at her through her rearview mirror and smiles at her. “Kinda hot out today,” she muses as she slides the car back into drive.
Kitty nods once. It’s big enough that Azzi catches it and the slight bounce of her ringlets through the mirror. Azzi starts rolling around the circular driveway, the California sun warming them through the windows as she leaves Paige’s property. “Yeah, so I think we should go in the pool. And so I can practice doing a flip in the water.” Azzi laughs quietly and looks forward.
“Sounds good, sweetie. I was gonna invite Aunt Carol over, too, can she hang out in the pool with us?” Paige’s gate opens slowly in front of her car, the glossy black of it shining in the sunlight. She waits as they swing towards her until the gap is big enough to drive through, slipping all the way out of Paige’s clutches.
Kitty hums a sound of agreement. “Yeah. Can you…You should ask if she has any more of those candies that she had last time.” Azzi can hear her kicking her feet a little from where her little legs sit against her car seat. She’s smiling a little. Azzi catches the expression through the mirror again. It’s sweet, Kitty’s cheeks soft and chubby against the curve of her lips.
Azzi laughs a little again. “Okay, yeah, I will.” Kitty makes a soft noise of excitement. She starts to hum along to the song playing again. It’s still just barely off in an endearing way. Azzi is biting the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning too hard while she turns out of Paige’s neighborhood and back onto the main road.
The drive isn’t very far. Paige had moved into a house just a few neighborhoods away after the divorce. Azzi had kept their house. Paige had given in rather easily. Azzi wasn’t making as much money as she was when they had divorced. Probably still isn’t, if she’s being honest with herself. Acting is hard like that. For most of the time they were married, Azzi was more so known for being married to Paige than she was for being her own actress.
She didn’t really mind it until she started being known for being divorced from Paige. But it’s been a long year since that started and she thinks it’s better now. She’s had a few jobs since then, has been offered more for the future. Caroline got offered a really good role in a really good show about three months ago and she’s already entering new circles and dragging Azzi into them with her. Azzi is drawing new connections and she thinks she’s much more successful now than she ever was married to Paige. But that never really was Paige’s fault, was it? Acting is just hard like that.
They pull into the driveway and Azzi parks in the garage, sliding the Tesla in the gap between two of her other cars. Kitty is scrambling to unbuckle herself and get out of the car before Azzi can even help her with the door. She laughs a little at her daughter, who just smiles up at her, telling her she’s excited to get in the pool. Azzi grabs her bags from the back and Kitty insists on carrying at least her duffel into the house.
Azzi calls Caroline to tell her to come over as she’s slipping off her clothes and on a bikini. Kitty bursts through the door to her bedroom as she’s tying the back together to ask her for candy. Azzi scolds her for not knocking while Caroline laughs through the phone speaker, Kitty smiling at the noise. Azzi tickles her sides until she runs back out of the room squealing. They’re both downstairs slathering sunscreen along Kitty’s skin just a few minutes later when a knock at the door comes.
There’s a streak of white where Azzi isn’t able to rub the sunscreen into her arm well enough before Kitty is squealing again and ripping free of Azzi’s grip to run towards the door. Azzi laughs. Her hands are oily from sunscreen as she tries to twist the doorknob. “Come in,” Azzi calls from the kitchen, grinning as she walks into the foyer behind her daughter. Kitty stands in front of the door until Caroline is already pushing it open. She stumbles back a little, feet catching on the rug in front of the door, and then stands there as the crack in the doorway widens.
Caroline steps in. All long hair and smooth skin, she’s already looking down at Kitty’s height to meet her eye. One hand closes the door behind her and the other grips the straps of her purse. Kitty starts bouncing out of excitement again. “Hi, Katie Cat!” Kitty holds her arms out. Caroline laughs a little and bends down to hug her back. Azzi smiles, crossing her arms as she watches her daughter and best friend interact. “I have something for you in my purse.”
The two girls part. Caroline straightens up and starts digging through her purse. The mouth of it is open and Kitty watches her with shining eyes. “Is it the candy?” Caroline flashes her teeth at her at the question. Kitty hugs herself, grinning up at her mother’s friend. Caroline produces a handful of individually wrapped candies, the packaging bright colors without any wording. Kitty scrambles to grab them out of her palm. “I’m so happy,” she proclaims, smiling at Azzi.
Azzi smiles back at her. “I can tell, pumpkin,” she coos. Kitty unwraps one and runs into the kitchen. Caroline looks towards Azzi finally, grinning widely. Azzi levels her with a stare she means to be intimidating but can tell the smile on her face renders practically useless. “Bro, Carol. You just gave her so many of those, she’s gonna have a sugar rush all day today.”
Caroline laughs. Her head tips back a little and her hair, which is collected in a smooth braid that runs along the line of her spine, swings slightly behind her. She starts walking farther into Azzi’s house. Her sandals click dully on the tile. “She’s fine. She’ll swim it out in the pool. I wanna tan and talk, c’mon,” she says, nodding her head in the direction of Azzi’s backyard from the foyer. Azzi sighs and gives in.
Kitty eats four pieces of candy before they all even step foot outside. Azzi tells her she’s only allowed to have another if she swims an entire lap of the pool or does five flips in the water. So here they are, the pile of candy sitting on a table next to Azzi’s lounge chair, Kitty splashing in the sparkling water of the pool as the summer sun smiles down on them. Azzi and Caroline lay next to each other on their stomachs. Their skin is warm as the ultraviolet rays press burn into them. Mac Miller sings to them from a speaker set at the edge of the pool.
Caroline squints at her. Azzi squints back. She can feel sweat beading along her skin and slipping down her body, can feel herself being softened and molded by the firm hands of the sun. “Oh, Az, I almost forgot. I was gonna talk to you about this over the phone, but then Kitty busted in.” Caroline moves her arms from down at her sides to up by her face. She stacks them and then rests her head on them. “I’m going clubbing tonight with some people you need to hang out with. One of them - Emi, you remember Emi, right? - actually asked about you, asked me if I’d invite you. You should come out with us. I’m hosting the pre, so it’ll be fine.”
Azzi squints harder. Her brows furrow a little bit. She does remember Emi- one of Caroline’s friends she had made on set, a girl who was much more successful than her but still incredibly nice the one time they had hung out for a few hours at Caroline’s house. “I need to hang out with? Carol, this isn’t you trying to get me to try coke again, right?” Her voice lowers a little like Kitty could hear her from all the way over here.
Caroline snorts a soft laugh. Azzi’s lips wobble with the threat of a smile. “No, dude, that was one time. And you didn’t like it and I never brought it up again, hush,” she says, laughing a little through it. Azzi rolls her eyes. The action is lazy and melted by outside heat. “No, they’re actually all super chill. I more so meant that as in, like, this’ll be really good for your connections. I know your agent’s trying to find you bigger roles right now. They’re bigger than us. They can put in a good word for you.”
Azzi shuts her eyes. Her brows stay furrowed. Something in her stomach tightens a little and then rolls over like the passing of a wave along the shore. There’s still an uncertainty left there, a lasting wetting of where the water had sprayed. She opens her eyes again and lifts her head up to glance over her shoulder. Her daughter is still splashing in the pool, humming loudly to herself, goggles pressed over her eyes. “I dunno. I mean…I just got Kitty. I dunno if the sitter’s available. And I missed her, and she prolly missed me while she was with Paige.” She lowers her head.
Caroline is still looking at her. “I can find you a sitter, Az. Don’t worry about Kitty.” Azzi stays quiet instead of responding. She just looks over at her best friend, listening to the soft sound of the music that can reach them and of Kitty’s playing. Caroline sighs quietly. “Look. If you don’t want to go, no one will hold it against you, obviously. You can totally just stay in and hang out with Kitty. That’s, like, lowkey the dream. I just know this would be a good opportunity for you. Especially ‘cause Emi literally asked about you by name.”
Azzi knows she’s not actually being pressured to do anything. She knows Caroline would understand if she just wanted to spend the night with her daughter. But she also knows that new connections would be good for her. That strengthening a connection with Emi, who is much more known than her, would be good for her. Azzi glances over her shoulder again. Kitty is doing a flip in the pool. Azzi can’t see her head, only the rolling of the water as her body churns within it. “I’ll…text the sitter.”
A small sound of excitement. Azzi laughs a little, turning back to her friend. Caroline smiles at her. Azzi smiles back. Sweat drips down her forehead from her curls. “I’m so excited! Seriously, they’re so much fun, Az. And again, that’s not in the asking-you-to-do-drugs way. I actually just really like them. Oh my God, you’re gonna have so much fun.” Caroline’s genuine enthusiasm makes Azzi feel a little better about her decision. She grins at her, eyes crinkling shut in the sun.
The sound of a larger splash, and then of Kitty taking a long and dramatic breath. Azzi immediately lifts her head to check on her daughter. She’s just standing there in the shallow end, her little arm floaties useless as they hang on her above the waterline. Her goggles hide her eyes from Azzi. “I did five flips, can I have a candy now?”
“Yes,” she and Caroline answer in unison. Azzi looks back over at her again. She can hear Kitty getting out of the pool behind them, water splashing all over the concrete of the deck and her feet slapping wetly. Caroline looks at her with shining eyes. Something in her stomach shifts again. Another wave. Another coming and passing of an anxiety she can’t really place the origin of. Azzi groans a little and then flips back over to her back to tan her front again.
They tan for another hour or so before Caroline calls it time to leave. She tells Azzi to come over around eight and to bring mixers if she loves her. Azzi laughs and assures her she does. She drags Kitty inside to force her to take a bath after the chlorine of their pool has clung to her sweet skin and soft hair. She does her hair and makes her lunch and plays dolls with her for a little while.
And then she takes a shower herself while Kitty colors on the floor of her bedroom. They talk while Azzi does her hair, coaxes it straight and then into soft curls that frame her face. She makes dinner while her hair is pinned up. Kitty makes fun of her for it. Azzi rolls her eyes at her, blowing raspberries and poking her sides until she giggles. It’s a simple meal of pasta and salad. Azzi eats only enough to settle her stomach. Kitty eats until there’s marinara sauce above one of her eyebrows.
The sitter arrives just as Azzi is finishing up her makeup, Kitty sitting next to her at her vanity. She’s a woman a little older than Azzi named Stella who Kitty adores. She’s been watching Kitty since Paige and Azzi were married. Azzi welcomes her in with a hug. Kitty clings to her leg immediately, not really bothered that her mother is leaving. Azzi is left to take down her hair and put on her outfit alone in her room. She leaves just before eight, leaving Kitty with a parting kiss on her cheek. Her lip products press themselves into a print against her skin. The little girl giggles.
Azzi has an unopened box of Diet Cokes in the fridge in her garage. She brings this and a mostly full bottle of club soda into her Uber when it arrives. It’s a sleek little car, deep gray and low to the ground. She fights the urge to make a face when she has to duck so far to slip into the back seat. The man driving doesn’t say anything as she gets in. Just starts driving the moment he hears Azzi’s door click shut, Caroline’s address up on the navigation screen.
She’s not a very far drive from Caroline’s house. Azzi is leaning forward to recite the gate code to the Uber driver after only a few minutes. The driveway is smooth under the tires of the car as they roll towards her front door. Azzi thanks him and slips out of the car. She knocks once, waits a few moments, and then lets herself in.
The foyer is dim around her. The sun is starting to set outside, darkness finding the sweet Californian sky, and the vast windows that allow large amounts of natural light in during the day are left to do most of the heavy lifting while a decorative lamp placed next to a doorway tries to help. “Carol, help me, ‘m carrying a box of sodas and a two-liter. And I just opened the door.” Azzi’s voice rings along the smooth surfaces of Caroline’s house. It’s all marble and glass and concrete. The heels of her boots click as she walks.
“Coming,” Caroline calls from the kitchen. Azzi starts walking towards her, passing into one of the hallways. Caroline meets her there. Her face lights up when she sees Azzi and she immediately reaches to take the box from her hands. “Thank God. I had, like, three cans of Sprite just floating around my fridge and really didn’t feel like going to the store.” She grins a little at Azzi.
Azzi rolls her eyes. Now holding only the club soda, she readjusts her mini purse hanging off of her shoulder and follows Caroline back into the kitchen. “Glad you’re using me for my mixers,” she says, and Caroline just laughs. Azzi smiles a little and reaches a hand down to smooth over her front. She’s wearing an incredibly small top, a halter that is both low cut and cropped, and she had thrown a leather jacket on over it to avoid both Kitty and Stella seeing her dressed like this. Her skirt was small enough to be incriminating anyway. “I’m the first one here, right?”
Caroline hums. “Yeah, but everyone’s actually really chill, so ‘m sure they won’t be, like, extremely late. ‘Cause it’s only gonna be about six of us and then we’re gonna meet up with everyone else at the club.” They make it to the kitchen and Caroline sets the sodas down on the counter next to a large bottle of vodka. It’s a nice brand, one Azzi doesn’t know how to pronounce but can recognize. It’s smooth. She’ll have an easy time drinking.
“How many people then? When we get to the club, I mean?” She sets the bottle of club soda down as she asks. Caroline walks farther into her kitchen, heading towards the cabinets. Azzi just leans up against the counter.
Caroline starts going through her cabinets and collecting both shot glasses and larger cups. She shrugs a little at Azzi’s question. “I think, like, fifteen or twenty. I dunno. It’s not really organized. ‘Cause there’s our pregame group, and then the bigger group we’re gonna hang out with, but there’s an even bigger group of people all going tonight. It’s, like, an event? Kinda? I don’t really know how to explain. There’s just…It’s gonna be a lot of people at this club.” She turns around clutching many glasses. Azzi just laughs a little and walks towards her to help her.
Azzi spends a little while standing around and talking with Caroline. She pours herself a drink, eyeballing two shots and then filling the glass with as much of a can of Diet Coke as will fit. Caroline makes her save the fourth of it that’s left off to the side for an easy chaser, electing to mix her drink with the club soda. True to Caroline’s word, the other girls don’t take very long to show up. Azzi’s barely a third way done with her drink when there’s the echoing noise of many pairs of feet clicking down Caroline’s hallway.
All four of them have come at the same time. They’re all beautiful, skinny and tall with shiny hair and cute outfits. Azzi smiles at them all as they walk into the kitchen and embrace Caroline with familiarity. She feels a little awkward until Emi, the only one of them she’s ever met, starts walking towards her. “Aw, hi, Azzi! How are you? I haven’t seen you in a little,” she says, grinning.
Emi is gorgeous. Devastatingly so, with pale skin and dark hair and full lips. Her lashes are long and they frame her green eyes beautifully. She’s in a dark mini dress, skin shining even in the calm lighting of Caroline’s kitchen, her smile lighting up her entire face. Azzi thinks the only reason she wants so strongly to be friends with her is because her jealousy and her lesbianism cancel each other out to create only a warmth to feel towards her. “Hi, Emi! I’m good, how are you?”
Emi wraps her in a hug. “I’m so good!” It’s said close to her ear and makes her laugh a little, the chatter of the other girls around them joining the noise of the kitchen. Emi pulls back and then looks at her, large eyes sweet as she takes her in. “Wow, you look so good. Your abs are fucking insane, dude.”
Azzi tries not to flush at the compliment, grinning at the other woman. Emi smiles widely back and starts fiddling with the silver arm cuff she wears on one bicep, other arm cutting across her chest and pressing the shadow of her breasts deeper against her skin. “Stop it. You’re saying that? You’re literally bod goals, that dress looks so good on you.” Azzi gestures at her a little as she says it.
Emi scrunches her face at her. “I just love you,” she says, and Azzi laughs, reaching for her drink off of the counter again. Emi turns towards the other three girls she had walked in with as Azzi does this. They’re all standing with Caroline by the drinks, pouring them and talking and laughing. “Oh, guys, this is Azzi. She’s the sweetest, we’re gonna get along so well,” Emi says, drawing everyone’s attention to Azzi.
They all look at her. They’re all smiling, all their teeth perfect and their faces warm. Caroline is all but beaming at her. “Hi,” Azzi says, smiling back. For a moment, Azzi feels her entire body react to the slight hitch in the easiness of all the conversation, feels embarrassment try to reach its greedy fingers out and grab at the hope for a good night that had started to fester within her. But then they all say “hi” back in unison, and then everyone is giggling, and then they’re all introducing themselves and asking Azzi questions and pouring shots. And Azzi thinks Caroline really might have been right about this being good for her.
The pregame lasts until nearly half past nine because they spend so long talking, and then Caroline is calling them an Uber to the club. They’re all pleasantly tipsy. Azzi, Emi, and another girl named Violet have all been laughing over the same unfunny joke for ten minutes by the time they’re all piling into the car. Caroline has been rolling her eyes the entire time. Halle, another one of the girls, snorts occasionally, and Violet acts like getting someone else to laugh at it is some grand feat every time.
Azzi likes them all. She’s fine even when the Uber takes over twenty minutes because, despite the slight unsettled feeling in her stomach from being in a moving vehicle for so long while balancing between tipsy and drunk, she really likes the group. Emi is nice and Violet is funny and Halle won’t stop requesting songs for the Uber driver to play and Calliope, the fourth girl, stumbles over her own feet while they’re getting out of the car and Caroline and Halle laugh so hard they’re both almost crying by the time they’re walking up to the bouncers.
It’s a really nice club. Like, extremely nice, tucked into a corner of Los Angeles not many are allowed into. It’s not a very small building and what surrounds it seems expensively built. There are two bouncers and they look a little terrifying. Calliope leads them up and says something to them that Azzi doesn’t catch, and then they’re being let in, the loud music and dark lighting swallowing them whole.
Azzi grabs onto Caroline’s arm as they walk in. Caroline doesn’t even look twice, just moves her arm a little closer to her body so Azzi’s hand is tucked securely between the top of her elbow and her side and then starts walking farther in. It’s not as packed as the warmth running throughout the entire building would lead Azzi to believe, but there are easily over a hundred people spread throughout the dance floor and the bar and the seating options littered around the outskirts of the room.
“To the bar,” Caroline proclaims over the music, and then they’re walking over to the bar with Halle and Emi. Azzi orders a vodka cran to sit on top of the many shots she’d had at Caroline’s house. She’s hoping the pasta she had eaten with Kitty earlier acts to somehow make sure she doesn’t get sick tonight or tomorrow morning. She knows the whole bread thing is a myth, but maybe carb loading somehow does help. Or maybe she’s just going to have to see that meal again. She doesn’t really care.
When all four of them have their drinks, they find Violet and Calliope standing a few feet away at the bar with another girl and two guys Azzi has never seen before. They intermingle again and introductions are forgotten as conversation spreads like fire licking along alcohol throughout the group. Azzi can’t really get a good look at anyone she’s talking to. She doesn’t really care. Her vodka cran stops burning after two sips.
They start to all wander away from the bar and then split again. Azzi loses Caroline, but she finds Calliope and Emi and sticks with them, the three of them laughing and talking around the music as they try to find a group of people any of them might know. They do find quite a few people. They bounce around groups, talking for a while and visiting the bar a few more times. Azzi is quickly becoming drunk. She has no clue how many shots are in her drink, but she finishes it pretty quickly and thinks the very dim lighting and loud music really are not helping her perceptional skills.
She leaves Calliope and Emi to get another drink without them. She finds Caroline at the bar, thankfully, and immediately slides up next to her best friend. Their hips bump a little. She looks over at her, grinning stupidly, empty glass sitting in front of her on the counter. Caroline whips her head to meet her gaze. “How long have we been here?” Her words slur as they come out of her mouth.
Caroline laughs at her a little, face scrunching slightly as she looks at her. “Dude, how many drinks have you had? You’re acting hammered,” she says, moving her hips to the side to bump Azzi back. Azzi sets her elbows on the bar and leans forward onto them. She can feel how sticky the counter is through the sleeves of her jacket.
She frowns a little. “I only had two since we got here. That’s- I’m confused on that, too, ‘cause I should not be this drunk right now. Like, I’m on track to black out right now.” A bartender starts walking up to Caroline, holding a glass shimmering with condensation. He sets it in front of her and Caroline leans forward to sip from it.
“Don’t black out, bro, you gotta stay normal tonight. We’ve been here-” she checks her watch, “-bout an hour, give or take. You can hold on until, like, one or two?” She nods as she says it as if to convince Azzi to do that. Azzi nods along dumbly. The bartender stays standing in front of them, pausing, waiting to see if Azzi needs anything. It takes her arguably too long to realize that and lean forward to ask for a Diet Coke.
He nods at her and disappears. She fights the urge to take a sip from Caroline’s drink, reminding herself to focus on not getting too drunk. She looks around the dim room as she waits for her soda. There are so many people and they all look a lot more important than Azzi. The dance floor is packed and there are so many people hanging around the bar she’s almost starting to sweat from just standing here. She’ll have to convince someone to go dance with her soon. Violet seems like someone who would feed into that. Azzi keeps scanning the room. And then she stops.
“Oh my God,” she mumbles. Her stomach drops. Caroline turns to look in the direction Azzi is looking in. Azzi is looking at a familiar face. A very, very familiar face. A face she woke up next to for five years. A face who served her divorce papers. “You’re fucking kidding me.” It’s Paige Bueckers’s face. She’s on the other side of the bar, standing next to a group of guys, too busy laughing with them to notice Azzi standing just a little bit away.
Frustratingly, she looks good. Her hair is down in soft waves and she’s wearing a button up that is somehow both masculine and very flattering on her body, the collar of it loose and the top few buttons undone. “What?” She’s holding a drink that shines pink at Azzi when the light hits it right. A Shirley Temple. How mature, to go out clubbing and to order a Dirty Shirley. “Oh, shit, dude.” Azzi really doesn’t like that she isn’t as ugly on the outside as she is on the inside.
Her face is curled in disgust. Azzi looks away and back at Caroline. Her stomach is settling itself in her heels. “This is horrible,” she whines to Caroline. She looks down and sees her Diet Coke has appeared in front of her. She leans forward and takes a sip of it. The carbonation burns down her throat more than she thinks alcohol would. “I just saw her earlier today when we were trading Kitty. But we haven’t, like, actually spoken in deadass months. What the fuck, ‘m gonna have to avoid her so hard all night.” Azzi goes out a lot, but she never sees Paige. Her and Paige run in different circles. Very different, due to their difference in popularity. But Azzi guesses that Caroline’s group isn’t different from Paige’s.
Caroline just shakes her head at her. “‘s fine, Az. She’s a fuckin’ bitch and has other people to bother. Don’t- Okay, don’t get black out, but don’t let her ruin this. Come back with me and talk to this other group, ‘kay?” She leans back off of the bar, taking her drink with her, and grabs at Azzi’s hand to drag her with her. Azzi lets herself be pulled. Stupidly, she takes one last glance back at Paige to make sure she knows spatially where she is. Her drunkenness is making it hard for her to remember where exactly in the room she’ll have to avoid.
Paige is already looking at her. Her blue eyes are steely even from how far away she is, sharp and locking and intimidating. Her face is straight. She’s no longer laughing at whatever she had just been laughing at. She’s just there, face sculpted, the lights dancing over her skin and making her shine like a marble statue. Azzi’s stomach drops farther than it had before. She whips her head away, heart trying to start pounding in her chest, Caroline’s grip on her arm tightening.
She’s pulled away to another group, but the damage is done. Paige knows she’s here and Azzi knows Paige is here. This is the worst, she thinks. She talks in the group with Caroline for a while. She likes all the people there and finds herself slipping into good conversation with them all, slowly forgetting what had just been troubling her. Everyone is funny and most of them are nice and people laugh when she makes jokes. Caroline lets her lean into her when she feels dizzy.
Emi finds them after a while and slides on the other side of Azzi, who appreciates her presence. The group conversation continues for a while until Azzi and Emi find themselves talking alone for a while. She doesn’t finish her Diet Coke, but she wants more alcohol, so she agrees after over half an hour of standing with the same people to go take some shots with Emi. She’s practically sober, anyway. If she squints.
She takes two and then they find Violet. Azzi remembers her earlier thoughts about wanting to dance with her and drags both her and Emi to the dance floor, laughing. She doesn’t recognize the song playing. Doesn’t recognize anyone around her, either, other than the two girls she’s with. But she doesn’t care. She’s having fun and making friends and that’s all that matters. Being drunk makes her oddly sentimental and a little emotional sometimes. She doesn’t even care about connections for work anymore. She just really likes the girls she’s with.
A tap on her shoulder. Azzi turns around a little slowly, unsteady on her feet. It’s Paige. Her breath hitches in surprise and something almost like fear. Her eyes widen on her face. She squints a little to focus, trying to block out all of the background noise and all of the background people. It feels like her first time trying to actually process where she is in a while. Her mind starts feeling fuzzy. Her heartbeat picks up in her chest.
It hurts a little, to be looking at her like this. It hurts every time Azzi sees her anywhere. It’s a burning pain, like there’s a lighter being pressed against her skin, warm and bright and charring her until she’s crumbling. It’s complicated. Azzi doesn’t like her and she knows this about herself. But they were married for five years and had been dating for four before that, and so she thinks part of her subconscious will always be upset at her for not liking her. She was in love with her from the time she was fifteen to the time she was twenty-four. A year of being divorced won’t soothe that pain, but it will harbor resentment with it.
Paige is almost frowning at her. Her brows are slightly furrowed, eyes squinted. The blue of her irises still cuts into Azzi despite the horrible lighting. Her lips are a little pursed. “What are you…Why are you here?” The words slur. She’s drunk. And it’s the stupidest question Azzi thinks she’s ever heard.
She all but scowls at Paige, mimicking her expression but deeper. The multicolor lights dance across her face and make her feel a little dizzier than she already was. “To get drunk? Why are you here?” She squints at her.
Paige just looks at her dumbly for a moment. Her expression doesn’t change. Something familiar, a deep rooted anger directed towards Paige, starts trying to spark itself back to life like an old lighter. Paige’s brows furrow farther. The sharp edge of her brow bone casts shadows into her eye sockets. She looks so chiseled in this light. It irritates Azzi. “Where’s Kitty?”
Once again, a stupid question. Her patience with Paige was already a short fuse and she can feel that it’s burnt itself out. “With Stella, Paige. What’s your problem?” She shouts to get it heard over the music playing, the sound of people talking and laughing and dancing all around them.
Paige shakes her head once, pauses, and then shakes it again. “No, I just- Like, I’ve never seen you here before. And I thought you would’ve missed Kitty.”
This irritates Azzi. She looks at her in the dim lighting of the club and glares at her. Her stomach is low in her body, uneasiness crawling within her. A silent predator. A loud threat, her skin shining blue in the lights. “The hell? I did miss Kitty. You’re telling me you’ve never gone out on a Saturday night?”
Paige shakes her head again. It drops a little, eyes still leveled on Azzi. Her gaze feels like it’s slicing through the thickness of the air between her and drawing razor-thin cuts into her skin where it can, warm blood beading to the surface. “Not when I have Kitty. She’s more important.”
More anger douses Azzi. She fights the urge to point a finger into Paige’s chest and let her nail dig into the soft flesh of her sternum, instead opting to glower at her even harder. “Do not go fucking guilt tripping me, Bueckers. Why’re you even coming up to me to tell me this?” She’s yelling at her at this point. The sound of it is barely louder than that of what’s around them.
And for a moment, Paige really does pause, just looking at her with sharp eyes and a sharp face. Her head drops again, all the way to her feet. “‘Cause- Ugh, it’s not even the point.” It’s not shouted. Azzi barely hears it, thinks she might have even heard it wrong. Paige looks up again. Nods her head in the direction of the space over Azzi’s shoulders, her eyes still on Azzi. “I hate her. Violet. Like, ‘m just tryna…get you away from her. I’m not actually tryna guilt trip you over Kitty or anything.”
Azzi scowls at her. “Dude, what the fuck? She’s my fucking friend. I don’t care if you hate her.” She looks behind herself to find the girl. Violet is a few feet away from Azzi, still dancing with Emi, her blunt bob a little bit of a mess now as she moves. There are bodies passing through Azzi’s line of sight, but she can still make out the carefree shape of her. She seems nice. She doesn’t like that Paige is inserting herself into this.
She whips her head around again. Paige, if anything, is just standing closer to her, glaring at her. Azzi feels warm. She can’t tell if it’s more the alcohol or her anger. “Oh my God, I’m literally trying to do something nice for you. She’s- Azzi, she’s a heroin addict, she got a bunch of my friends addicted. Adult peer pressure ‘n shit. It’s not even about you. I just don’t want Kitty to have an addict for a mother.”
This comment burns the same way looking at Paige does. She thinks she’ll be a pile of ashes when she finally gets to leave this stupid club tonight, the same as a stubbed out cigarette. She narrows her eyes and furrows her brows. “Well, in your books, she already fucking does, right?” The words spit themselves out of her mouth.
Paige scowls. “There’s a difference between nicotine and heroin and even you know that, you fucking asshole. I’d rather you just be vaping all the time than fuckin’ shooting up.” She talks a little with her hands. She does that when she’s drunk. Azzi used to find it endearing. Now she hates it, the way the silver rings adorning her fingers shine when they catch the light.
“I wouldn’t even do heroin. You know I’m getting clean, and even if I wasn’t, ‘m not stupid enough to do fucking heroin.” Azzi says this loudly, matter-of-factly, and stares at Paige. Paige does not show any signs of agreement. She just pauses, still looking at her, eyes still angry. And then one brow raises. Anger flares within Azzi, who fights the urge to genuinely reach out and hit her. “Oh, fuck you. I’m going to the bathroom.” She brushes past her.
Azzi has never been here before. She doesn’t know where the bathroom is. But she’s also drunk, and incredibly stubborn, and so even though she doesn’t need to use it, she’s determined to find it. The large amount of people crowding her makes it hard for her to orient herself. She can barely hear anything, music pounding in her ears, alcohol making her sluggish. She wanders around the perimeter of the building for a minute or so until she finds it: a little opening in the wall to a short hallway, a small sign that says restrooms.
She walks down the hallway and into the women’s restroom. It’s not as dark in here, but still is. There are lights bordering the long mirror that stretches the length of a few sinks and they’re only barely bright enough to light the place. The music is still playing in here. Azzi thinks she can hear voices in the bathroom, can see people over at the other end of the mirror, but she doesn’t really care to fully check.
Azzi leans over the sink to look in the mirror and check her appearance. She looks fine. Drunk, but fine. The lighting so close to her face makes her squint a little. She wipes at her under eyes to move away some crumbling mascara that darkens the skin there. Her heart rate starts to slow. It isn’t exactly peaceful in here, but it’s not the dance floor, and so she lets herself calm a little bit.
She’s not going to get black out. She’s not going to let Paige ruin her night. She starts rubbing her thumb along the outline of her lips to smooth her lip liner back into place. She can’t even really process anything, is too drunk to really realize how weird that interaction was. Other than a few clipped text threads entirely about Kitty, they haven’t spoken in months. And just as she’s thinking this, she watches in the mirror as the bathroom door opens and Paige walks in, features shining and sharp in the lights.
Azzi immediately is exasperated. Her heart starts beating quicker again. She doesn’t want to talk to her anymore. They make eye contact through the mirror. In the slightly better lighting of the bathroom, her eyes cut her that much more. Azzi immediately turns around herself and starts walking towards the stalls, determined to lock herself in the nearest one until Paige leaves. But Paige grabs her wrist. “I was trying to be nice. For Kitty.” Azzi ignores her and steps into a stall, expecting Paige to let go and step away. But she doesn’t. She steps in.
The door closes behind Paige. The bathroom stall is more spacious than she had been expecting, the black tile floor stretching out enough to at least give her enough space to writhe in Paige’s grip until she lets go and then turn around to glare at her. “Insinuating I’d become a heroin addict isn’t nice.” She reaches out to shove at her chest. Her heart rate is climbing again.
Paige scowls at her. Azzi feels warm all over, the alcohol and her anger flushing her. She catches Azzi’s arm easily and holds it tighter than earlier. The music vibrates through their feet. Paige’s eyes flicker down to Azzi’s chest. Azzi flushes even warmer for some reason. She furrows her brows, reaching her other hand up to try and hit her again. “Dude, get over yourself. You-” Paige cuts herself off as she reaches her other hand to grab Azzi.
And then she’s stuck, both wrists in Paige’s grip, glaring at her. Paige looks at her chest again. Her mouth is parted with the ghost of words she had stopped herself from saying. Silence, or as close to silence as they can get in the dim bathroom of a crowded club, fits itself between them. Paige looks back up from her chest. Her eyes are sharp. Azzi licks her lips, tongue running slowly. Paige stares at her. Her grip on her wrists is tight.
And very suddenly, Azzi realizes two things about herself. One, she really does hate Paige. And two, she needs her mouth on her own immediately.
Azzi starts trying to struggle in her grip again. She then feels Paige pushing her until her back finds the wall of the stall, which she feels surprisingly runs all the way from the floor to above her head. Paige is so close to her. Azzi feels hot all over. Her hands are still restrained. She looks at Paige and Paige is glowering back at her, the distance between them so small, her lips still parted and her eyes blown but still narrowed. “Fuck you,” Azzi spits, eyes lidded, and then Paige is surging forward and connecting their lips.
It’s messy and biting and familiar in a way that just makes Azzi angrier. Her head hits a little against the stall wall. Paige bites her bottom lip and opens up her mouth, tongue finding hers. It’s bruising. Azzi fights the urge to moan into her mouth. Their teeth are clashing. Her hands are still held out by Paige’s, grip tight on her wrists. She likes it. Paige presses herself farther against her mouth and forces her to open her mouth more. Azzi gives in immediately, but not without biting one of Paige’s lips. Paige groans.
Azzi feels fuzzy. Warmth is still spreading itself throughout her entire body, smooth and distracting and paired with a sharper fire that makes Azzi continue to lick and bite at Paige as the kiss. The music drowns out the sounds of them making out until their heavy breathing and soft noises are only for them to hear in the bathroom stall of the club.
She feels Paige’s grip start relaxing on her hands. Mouths still connected, without thinking, Azzi pulls them down and immediately gropes Paige’s chest through the fabric of her t-shirt. The fat of her breasts is soft and malleable in her harsh grip. Paige groans into her mouth, entire body twitching involuntarily. Azzi likes it. She lets her fingernails dig into her. Paige reaches and squeezes the swell of her ass so hard she nearly cries out. Her hands roll the muscle there easily. Azzi kisses her harder.
It’s so, so messy. Azzi’s head tips back a little against the stall wall and she feels her hair getting tousled, feels her entire body opening up with the swarm of all that she feels. She moves her hands from Paige’s chest down to her abdomen. Sticks them under the hem of her shirt, drags her nails along her lower abs, feeling the catch of her smooth skin against them. Paige squeezes her ass again so hard it hurts. Azzi arches off the wall a little, a soft sound dumping itself onto Paige’s tongue. The blonde swallows it.
Paige’s hands leave her ass. Travel up until she’s at her chest, squeeze there once. Azzi moans at the feeling. And then they reach up farther, behind her neck, and Azzi feels her start picking at the bow the straps of her top are tied into at the nape of her neck. She can feel how she’s fumbling to do it from under her jacket, how being drunk and blinded makes her actions messy. Azzi does nothing to help her. She just flattens her hands against Paige’s stomach and kneads the muscle of her abs, still scratching her nails.
The top comes undone eventually, and then Azzi is gasping into Paige’s mouth at the feeling of fabric being peeled away from her breasts. The straps are left to hang below her chest. Cold air finds her. She can feel her nipples peak. She hadn’t even worn covers with this top and starts to regret it as she writhes a little under Paige’s touch, her hands sliding to grab her still clothed sides and the skin of her bare chest prickling with the cold.
Paige’s mouth leaves hers. Azzi is gasping for air, head still tipped back against the stall. Paige’s mouth connects with her skin again as she finds her nipple and rolls her tongue over it before sucking it into her mouth. The heat of her mouth is so different from the chill of the bathroom air that she can’t help but moan a little at the feeling of it, the way the muscle of her tongue feels against her skin. She digs her nails into Paige’s skin again.
Paige hums a little against her nipple and then moves to start pressing wet kisses against the skin around it. She’s not gentle with it, teeth scraping a little against her, the warm wetness of her mouth too pleasing for Azzi to fully push her away. She moves one of her hands where it is against her abs and lets it reach up to Paige’s hair, gripping it. Paige hums against her again. “Fuck,” Azzi breathes, voice tight.
Paige reaches and starts rolling her other nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Azzi arches off of the wall again, a strangled sound escaping her when she can’t swallow a moan all the way in time. It sounds like Paige laughs into her skin. It’s infuriating. She tugs a little on Paige’s hair just to listen to her keen a little into Azzi. The music continues to thump itself through their feet, the darkness of the bathroom secluding them.
Azzi feels Paige bite down particularly hard on her skin and then start sucking. The latch of it is familiar, the way her entire body tries to lean into the feeling of the pleasure and pain of it. “Stop it, do not- fuck, don’t give me a fucking hickey, Paige,” Azzi forces out, pulling a little harder on her hair. Paige groans a little into it but continues sucking her skin. Azzi pulls her away until she can’t keep her breast in her mouth any longer.
Her hand is still in Paige’s hair. The blonde’s eyes open and they’re hooded and blown, still so sharp and so blue. Azzi can tell even through the dark that her skin is flushed. Her lips, especially, are swollen and a deeper color than they usually are. They’re slicked with spit. And they’re curved into a smirk that only fuels the heat within Azzi, brows furrowing, abs tightening. It’s a sleazy look. She looks good anyway. “You like it when I bite, though, princess,” she drawls. It’s mean. Azzi’s cunt twitches.
She tightens her grip on her hair again. Watches as Paige silently leans into the action, body still pressing in on Azzi’s space as she submits a little to Azzi’s touch. “You don’t know anything,” Azzi spits. Her chest is rising and falling quickly, her breast wet with Paige’s spit. Paige stays grinning at her cockily with lidded eyes.
“Yes, I do.” Azzi feels the bottom of her skirt shift. Feels a hand, warm and prying and malicious, groping at her panties until they’re pushed to the side. Can only gasp and look down to watch as Paige shoves a finger inside of her without warning. The worst part is that Azzi is so wet that it goes in easily. She curls it immediately and Azzi’s walls hug it, a broken moan slipping from her mouth. “This pussy still mine, even if you don’t like that,” Paige rasps. It’s close to her ear.
Azzi’s eyes shut. She leans her head back again, mouth parted, throat exposed. She feels like prey leaving itself vulnerable in front of the predator. Paige moves closer to her until the point of her nose is pressing into her neck. Her finger is still just sitting inside of Azzi. She clenches involuntarily around it. “Fuck you,” she gasps, eyes squinted shut.
Paige pulls her finger out a little and then thrusts it back in. It warms her entire being. She grits her teeth as a moan tries to pull itself out of her. “Yeah, you’d like that, hmm?” It’s said low and close to her ear. Paige thrusts her finger into her again. It’s so close to her g-spot already that Azzi feels her abdomen start to curl in on itself, anticipation building within her. It feels good. She’s so angry she’s almost more blinded by it than she is by the lack of good lighting in the bathroom.
While Paige might know her body well from the years they spent together, Azzi knows Paige’s body just as well. It used to be an instrument to be played, something soft she revered and would drag sweetness out of. It’s no longer anything to her but something to use. Leaving one hair twisted in Paige’s hair, she drags her other one out from against her abs and brings it to her mouth. She spits onto the pads of her fingers, body tensing as Paige fucks her finger into her again. She reaches down, shoves her hand into Paige’s pants and boxers, and then surges down until her hand finds the hood of her clit.
It’s swollen. Her want is tangible and it makes Azzi fuzzy, pleased with herself. Paige grunts quietly when her fingers make contact with the bundle of nerves. She quickly picks up the pace of her fingering, Azzi’s cunt already starting to weep against the digit. Azzi bites the inside of her cheek and starts to circle Paige’s clit. It’s not gentle, but neither is Paige. It’s messy with the spread of her saliva and what of Paige’s slick that had spread from her entrance through her folds.
Paige groans close to her ear at the feeling. It’s tight, clearly involuntary. Azzi can barely bask in it because of how tight her entire body is getting at the feeling of Paige’s finger sliding in and out of her, the way she’s so wet and it’s so obvious. She stays leaning into the wall behind her, head digging into it. She continues to trace quick circles against Paige’s clit. Her fingers are ruthless. So are Paige’s.
Her breathing is quick. Paige is still leaning over her, but Azzi can tell her body is leaning more and more into Azzi’s touch, hips tilting, her clit needy against Azzi’s fingers. Azzi is arching off of the wall again at the feeling of Paige’s finger in her. She’s panting, breath never coming back to her after they had made out, heart rate only climbing as Paige fucks her finger in and out of her. She slides it all the way out and then adds another. Azzi can’t stop the moan that falls out of her mouth from the fullness.
It feels good. She shuts her mouth and grits her teeth again, eyes screwed up. She clenches a little around Paige’s fingers. “You have to be quieter. Getting fucked in a public bathroom and you’re moaning that loud. You’re being a brat,” Paige says close to her ear. It’s low and biting and some of the words waver with the threat of a moan. Azzi’s body burns at it, both with pleasure and anger. Her abs tighten. She opens her eyes to glare at Paige’s head.
She pulls hard on her hair, nails scratching a little on her scalp, the yank pulling her a little farther from Azzi’s neck. A strangled sound escapes Paige’s mouth. Azzi grinds the pads of her fingers down particularly hard on Paige’s clit to pair with the bite of her hair pulling. “Oh, but I’m the loud one?” She’s still breathing hard around the words as she says them, eyes narrow, mouth parted slightly.
“Shut the fuck up,” Paige rasps, bringing her head closer to Azzi’s, fingers still pumping in and out of her. Azzi can feel herself growing wetter and wetter, folds and entrance slick and smearing onto her underwear and inner thighs. She can hear the wet sound of Paige fucking her. She thinks, if she focuses hard enough, she can hear herself rubbing Paige’s clit, too. But it’s hard to focus. She’s so drunk and her body is buzzing and pleasure is wrapping itself around her like a thick vine, choking her out.
Azzi keeps her grip on Paige’s hair tight because she knows it will bring Paige closer to her orgasm than Azzi is to her own. She thinks that’s the only part that’s feeding the anger within her, placating it enough to allow herself to squirm as Paige fucks her fingers into her: that she knows she can make Paige cum before she does. She’s already embarrassingly close to her own orgasm, because as much as she hates her, Paige is right in thinking Azzi likes it when she’s mean. The bathroom is dark around them. Azzi rolls her hips a little in time with Paige’s thrusts.
Paige leans farther into her, mouth finding her neck. Her teeth scrape a little along her skin. Azzi’s hand feels like it’s burning with how focused she is on circling Paige’s clit with slick fingers, pressing deep into the bud. Paige presses open-mouthed kisses against the skin of her collarbone, Azzi’s body tingling where she touches her. “Fuck,” she breathes, holding her breath to keep from moaning again. Paige’s fingers start prodding deeper parts of her. The spongy sweetness of her insides welcome the touch, her face screwing up. Her chest starts rising and falling quicker. Paige’s face stays close to it.
“You like it, huh?” Paige’s voice wobbles a little with the heaviness of her breathing. Azzi, despite the way her entire body feels like it’s melting to putty against her, smiles a little to herself at the way she sounds. She pulls a little again on her hair. “Shit,” Paige mumbles into her skin. Her hips are rolling a little with the movement of Azzi’s fingers. She can feel her slick leaking all around her folds and finding her clit as Azzi continues to rub it. She knows Paige won’t last much longer. She also knows, however, that she won’t, either.
They lose their voices again and are left to continue fucking each other to the sound of the music thumping through the building, the catch and release of their own heavy breathing, the sound of fingers sliding against slick. Paige seems like she’s almost losing her balance, rocking a little on her feet as Azzi’s fingers circle between her legs. Her breathing is shakier and shakier. Azzi can feel herself getting wound tighter and tighter as Paige’s fingers keep pumping in and out of her.
Paige shudders. Her entire body catches and stills for a moment, even her fingers pausing where they are inside of Azzi. A choked moan presses itself into the bare skin of Azzi’s chest. Triumph, bright but not sharp enough to cut through the hazy cloud of pleasure that has wrapped itself around Azzi, starts leaking into her chest. Her abdomen is still tight with the promise of a release she chases, the same release that has just found Paige.
Paige leans a little farther into her and Azzi reaches her hand down from her clit to her entrance. A warm wetness finds her where it’s leaking from there. Azzi rubs her fingers along the outside of Paige’s slit, teasing her walls, collecting her cum onto her fingertips. She smears it through her folds and brings it back to her clit again, working her through the orgasm. Paige groans and then continues to finger Azzi. Her movement feels almost desperate. Azzi holds her breath to keep from whimpering.
She’s close. She’s so close, and her hand is between Paige’s legs and covered in her cum, and Paige is still fingering her and making soft noises by her ear, and her nipples are still hard and her top is still halfway off of her in the darkness of the bathroom stall. Paige moves her mouth down to suck one of her nipples into her mouth again and Azzi arches off of the wall again at the feeling. Her head tips back. Her grip in Paige’s hair is tight. Paige shudders again and then hums a little against her nipple, a small and slightly pained noise. Her free hand tugs at Azzi’s wrist, the one connected to the hand still rubbing her clit. Azzi pulls her hand out of Paige’s pants.
But Paige doesn’t let go of her wrist. She keeps her hold on it, dragging it higher up in the air. Azzi just lets her. She’s so close to her orgasm that she’s nearly writhing against the wall, her tit in Paige’s mouth, her walls convulsing around the feeling of Paige’s fingers. Paige releases her nipple from her mouth. Azzi angles her head back down and sees that Paige is looking at her through hooded eyes and a parted mouth. Fingers still pumping in and out of her, Paige holds Azzi’s own fingers up to her face. She angles them towards her mouth. Azzi obliges.
The feeling of Paige pressing Azzi’s cum-slicked fingers into her own mouth through her lips is enough to send her tumbling over the edge. She cums with her own fingers in her mouth, Paige’s slick wetting her tongue, entire body tightening. A moan tries to force itself out of her and is caught by her fingers. She looks up through her lashes at Paige, who is standing straight up in front of her. Her eyes are lidded, lips slick and parted, looking at Azzi. She tightens around Paige’s fingers again.
Her orgasm shakes her for a little, Paige continuing to fuck her through it. She gently pulls Azzi’s fingers out of her mouth after a few moments and lets her take a gasping breath that she tries futilely to muffle. Her head tips back again and digs farther into the wall behind her. She feels fuzzy, legs weak, body trembling a little bit against Paige.
After a little, Paige pulls her fingers out of Azzi. She doesn’t like the loss but doesn’t react. Her panties are still pulled to the side, the bottom of her skirt still pushed up. Paige doesn’t fix them. Azzi’s too floaty to think to do it herself. She watches through the dim space between them as Paige holds her hand up again. Her fingers shine with Azzi’s slick. She pushes them towards Azzi’s mouth. And again, Azzi does nothing to fight back.
She takes Paige’s fingers into her mouth and sucks on them, tasting herself off of Paige’s skin. Paige just watches her with the same expression as before. The air between them is thick. They’re both still out of breath. Azzi runs her tongue all around the pads of her fingers. “Yeah,” Paige breathes, so quiet Azzi almost doesn’t hear it over the thumping of the music still reaching into the bathroom.
Paige pulls her fingers out of Azzi’s mouth. Looks at her for a moment longer with her sharp eyes and her wet lips and her body still clearly coming down from its high. Azzi stares back at her from where she leans up against the wall of the stall. Through the fuzz of her pleasure and her inebriation, she feels the familiar bite of her hate starting to make itself known again through the need that still washes over her. Paige’s jaw shifts a little and she swallows. Azzi watches it happen, watches as her sharp features shift and her throat bobs.
And then Paige leaves the stall. There is not another word exchanged between them. She just opens the door and walks out into the rest of the bathroom, door cracking open, and Azzi just stands there and watches for a moment before she remembers the state of herself and leans to the side to put a hand out and slam the stall door shut again. She looks down. Her top is still undone, tits hanging out, her skirt rucked very far up herself. She looks a mess. She leans her head back and screws her face up.
She just fucked Paige. Azzi just got invited out by people much more influential than her to a club much nicer than anything she’s ever been allowed into and she went to the bathroom and fucked her ex-wife. The music beats itself through the soles of her boots. Azzi looks down again at herself, at the way her skin is still shiny with Paige’s drying spit and there’s a dark mark low on one of her breasts. She doesn’t even feel shame yet. Just irritation, her displeasure towards Paige prowling low in her stomach the same way the promise of her orgasm had minutes prior.
This very much complicates things. She thinks of Kitty, of the slightly awkward way they had settled on raising her, and of all of her friends outside the bathroom, the people she had just met who she’ll have to face knowing she just let herself get fingered by her ex in the club bathroom. Sighing a little to herself, Azzi stumbles forward a little and reaches towards the toilet paper to start trying to wipe herself down.