Words Have Two Meanings

XIII

Lydia doesn't even sit down before she's ordering herself two shots of tequila and downing them sooner than the bartender can set them on the countertop. She has a night of being surrounded by talks of soulmates, sitting right next to Mila, and knowing that her life isn't anywhere close to where she wants it to be.

They're at SoMa again, Pash's idea. She thought it'd be sweet for them to meet up with Danny and Mila in the same place that Lydia and Mila first met.

"It's nostalgic... or something," she'd said.

They've been at the bar for about an hour and Lydia's gone through four drinks and is definitely feeling it when Danny and Mila come squeezing through the crowd towards the booth.

"Sorry we're late," Danny winces through his apology. "There's a line out the door all the way down the block."

"It's alright, mate," Pash waves him off, standing up to greet both of their friends. "We had to keep seat poachers away from the booth, but it hasn't been too tough."

Lydia's feeling great, the alcohol is flowing through her veins and making everything much more pleasant than it usually would be. She doesn't know what's been wrong with her these past few weeks, but she's become cynical. Tonight it feels nice to get rid of her toxic mindset and separate from the derogatory attitude she's had recently.

After sitting for probably a moment too long, Lydia slides out of the booth to let Mila in, the other girl rubbing her knuckles across Lydia's forearm as she goes. Lydia's just loose enough from the drinks to be ready to throw caution to the wind and fall into Mila head first.

She controls herself.

"So how have things been?" Danny asks after they've settled into their seats a bit. "Catch me up on what I've missed this week."

Pash gets to talking about her schoolwork and how difficult it is to juggle education and work in the heart of London, something Lydia never had the chance to experience but doesn't regret much.

Lydia doesn't focus enough on their conversation, all of her energy going into memorizing Mila's profile, making sure that every line is permanently embedded in her head. When the truth about her being hopelessly in love with Mila and Mila not feeling the same comes between their friendship, she wants to be able to look back and remember exactly how beautiful Mila is, remember why everything was worth it in the end.

For some reason, she can't take her eyes off of Mila, and she can't stop smiling. There's something about the other woman that just takes away Lydia's common sense and makes her wistful for a past she doesn't have.

Mila notices, of course - it's not like Lydia's exactly the master of subtlety - but she doesn't make a big deal out of it, only grins back, turning her body to face Lydia. "Hey there, wine-o," she greets. "Drunk already?"

"I'm just having a good time, Mila," Lydia replies snobbily, happy when none of her words slur together. "I don't need labels to define me."

"I totally respect that." Mila's arm wraps around the back of the booth, and for a moment Lydia can imagine it's wrapped around her. "I'm not a fan of labels either."

"Then would you like to get not-drunk with me?"

Mila laughs, turning her head away from Lydia with the sound of it. "I'd love to, but I'm certain if I start matching you drink for drink, I'll regret it in the morning."

"You wouldn't," Lydia promises, inching closer to Mila. "You'll be having a great time with me. There's nothing to regret."

Mila grins, looking at Lydia the same way she did their first night of meeting, like she knows that everything she says is going to affect Lydia, like she knows exactly what makes her tick. "Very true, love. Though if you drink much more, I'm afraid you'll never be able to get on stage and sing Stairway to Heaven, and I'm sure then you'll regret it."