There Are Worse Things I Could Do (18+)

33. Theo

"Holy shit. Chanel bubble bath?" Taylor called from the guest bedroom.

"What's that?" I called back, my focus entirely on the strawberry margaritas she'd begged me to make. I did hear what she said, but I preferred to concentrate on the margaritas, so I wouldn't have to think too much about whatever the fuck was wrong with my emotionally-disabled girlfriend. It was taking an alarming amount of energy, focusing on not checking her location every 5 minutes or finding some reason to text or call or go by her house.

She needed space. That much was clear. But going from either seeing or talking to her every damn day for almost 4 months to...radio silence and the cold shoulder.

Fucking sucked.

I heard the soft—but urgent— patter of Taylor's feet as she trotted closer to me. I sighed softly, knowing she probably had the bottle of bubble bath in her hand. And she definitely wasn't going to let this go.

"Who's the girl?" She asked, hovering in my peripheral. "And—real quick—how are these margaritas coming along? This feels like the perfect night to get wasted and share all of our secrets, right?" She leaned her head closer to the pitcher I was pouring the blended margarita mixture into. "Hurry up so we can talk about this fancy ass bubble bath..." I glanced at her for half a second before returning my focus to the margaritas, finally resigned that whatever state it was currently in would have to suffice.

I knew she liked her shit sweet, so I kept adding more agave. But then it just tasted like a fucking toothache, so then I'd add more lime. Then it tasted too lime-y, muting the strawberry flavor too much for my liking. Trying to get the balance just right—to somewhere we could both tolerate—was taking an irritatingly long time.

I sighed more loudly this time, avoiding her eyes while I poured us all a round of margaritas. "Taylor," I rolled my neck, attempting to relieve some of my tension, "here, just taste this. I bought the bubble bath for a friend. There's nothing else to tell." I felt a pang in my gut as I told her that; she wasn't just a friend, and there was so fucking much to tell.

I wanted to tell her everything, maybe get some advice from a woman who would be completely honest with me, and who wouldn't necessarily just take my side. Our relationship had definitely thawed significantly since she came back to California, but I wasn't naive enough to believe she'd totally forgiven and forgotten.

We still had a lot of painful shit to hash out.

"Hmm," Taylor pursed her lips in careful considering after taking a long sip of her margarita. "Ummm...Well I think it's perfect." I smiled triumphantly. "But there's no fucking way you or Liam are going to drink this. You guys don't like sweet drinks, right?" I chuckled softly, a warm, slightly achy feeling spreading across my chest as I recalled all the times we'd gone out to bars and parties together.

Before.

"You're absolutely right," I told her, with a wry smile. "But you brought the tequila, and you requested strawberry margaritas, so this is more for you than for us. I'm good with beer, if this is too sweet for me to stomach."

"And I'll take tequila on the rocks. Or vodka. Or bourbon. Something strong as fuck," Liam mumbled as he walked past, his arms loaded with food from a nearby taco truck.

...But not the same one from last night. A good taco truck. But not Ana's favorite truck.

"Mmmm yessss! I'm going to be getting all the secrets tonight!" Taylor called after him. "Also, Liam! Whose bougie ass bubble bath is this? Chanel? Which one of his 'friends' was deserving enough of such luxury?" She poured herself more of the margarita from the pitcher and headed towards one of the living room couches.