closer {markle}

closer.

so baby pull me CLOSER
in the backseat of your ROVER
that i know you can't AFFORD
bite that tattoo on your SHOULDER.

Maya wandered through the small bar area. She felt like a failure and the burning sensation that followed every sip she took only ingrained those feelings further. It was stupid. Every decision she'd made thus far after separating from her high school friend group had been stupid. 

Art school was a bust. Well, it wouldn't have been had she not grown tired of being told what to paint and how to paint it. 

The sound of Shawn's voice escalating as she sat in their family's living room over Christmas break only a few months prior on the night she told them she was dropping out a semester before graduation was something she'd never forget.

She pursed her lips. LA was more of a bust. Tattooing was harder than it looked, and once again, she was being told what to draw and how to draw it. Restraint wasn't something that Maya ever dealt with well.  Now she was back in New York with no plans other than sitting in this bar until she got bored of it and decided it was time to return home to her new apartment.

The blonde kept walking through the bar, tugging at the skin tight red dress that she felt as if she was coming out of, but the looks she was getting from the males in the bar caused her to contemplate whether if that was a big deal after all.  Her studded black heels slid along the carpet as she weaved in and out of people until she found a seat on a bar stool. She sat her half-empty glass down on the wooden bar and shook it slightly, watching the melting ice fall.

"Do you want a refill, babes?" the bartender asked.

Maya shook her head, "No, I'm good, thanks."

"Well, there's this guy down the bar that said to refill your drink on him."

"What?"

Her eyebrows knitted together as the bartender pointed down the bar about halfway. His eyes weren't on her, but she could make out that profile anywhere, even in the darkness of a shady college-area bar. Farkle Minkus tilted his head back as he took a sip out of a long neck bottle. Without taking her eyes away, she slid the cup across to the bartender, letting her fill it up before getting up. She made her way over to the stool where Farkle was sitting and leaned against the bar.

"Howdy, stranger."

He turned towards her with a smirk, "Wow, Maya, have you been away for so long that you've forgotten. I'm Farkle...not Lucas." 

"Very funny. Thanks for the drink." she smirked back, "I know you like me better a little tipsy."

Maya's smirk faded to a soft smile. Despite the alcohol fogging their judgement, the vivid mental images of the two sneaking into her room when after prom was over and the short pink dress Maya had changed into hitting the floor landing in a pile next to Farkle's tux came back to her in an instant. She bit her lip, remembering how they ended up wrapped in her old purple sheets, the fitted one having popped off of the mattress at the top left corner from them switching positions. 

"Well, that seems like forever ago." he looked her up and down eyeing her tight red dress, "Care to refresh my memory."

She laughed, nudging his shoulder, "Down, boy. I thought you weren't the type to try to get a girl drunk."

He shook his head,  glancing down at her cup, "I'm really not. You just looked like you needed that."

"I did."

"Why?"

"I'm a fuck up, but I know you're aware of that. I'm sure everyone I've ever come in contact with is aware of my little stunt by now. Shawn was pissed."