Baylee watched her face as she told her story, his eyebrows slowly lifting up in surprise. Someone with a sadder story than me. Ever since his dad died, he doubted it was even possible. Especially from someone that….well….looked like her. If all else fails, she could always fall back on the fact that she was god damn gorgeous. Him? Well….that depended on who you asked.
"What a fuckin' duo we make," he finally said, reaching over the bar and putting a gentle hand on her's. "A fuckin' depressed asshole and a recovering addict." he moved his hand to grab the bottle again, this time just giving it to Mila instead of refilling her bottle every time she needed a refill.
"We were doomed from the start." The bitter words flying out of Mila's mouth before she could stop them. Jesus. She smiled around the lip of the bottle tilting it up to take a drag. Classy, wasn't she? Even though she still wasn't looking at Baylee, it was obvious that she was trying to cover up her hurt words. The hand he had been holding gently? It was now clenched on the counter between them.
The room had started to get fuzzy around the edges, the alcohol finally making an appearance in her bloodstream. When she lowered the bottle back to the counter, Mila was smiling for real. Realived that she was going to be able to knock herself out soon and forget the night, but still somewhat enjoying herself. Which was a wild concept.
After a few more swigs, and Baylee was feeling the same. This was his mixing vodka, much stronger than a normal vodka and not meant to be chugged the way there were. But, eh, too late for that now, right? Especially with the warm, fuzzy feeling beginning to creep through his veins like it was a disease. But one that he welcomed with open arms. Take all of his pain away for the night and worry about the morning when he got there.
"Y'know," he said, his voice surprisingly stable despite the amount of alcohol in his system, "I never woulda went for that girl anyways. She was…average, man. nothin' compared to you." Drunk Baylee is an open book. "THe fact that she was trying to show off her flat chest was the dumbest thing about it though. I mean, I got bigger titties than that girl."
Vodka nearly came out of her nose mid swig at Baylee's comment. The bottle thumping against the counter as Mila, put it down harshly to cover her mouth in time. Her face was pink and her entire form was shaking from the effort to keep her laughs–and the vodka–trapped in her mouth. Unconciously, Mila's free hand reached out to grasp Baylee's forearm to keep herself steady.
"I know, right?!" She finally gasped out after she was able to breathe soundly again. Running a hand through her hair, she chuckled a bit more. "Oh lord. I know my chest isn't much to look at either, but you would have thought she had god's gift to the world under her shirt with the way she was showing off!" Another swing, another stream of giggles. She was so warm, the world was tilting ever so slightly, and Baylee was looking at her again.
He was lifting the bottle to his own lips, but Mila gently snatched it away to steal his swig, sticking her tongue out like a child as his affronted barely-there grin.
"So fucking desperate, too," he continued, leaning against the bar with his forearms on the top of it. "God, I've never seen anythin' like that before. It was fuckin' obvious that I was out on a date an' she still pulls that shit. I don't blame you for wantin' to kick her ass." He reached over for the bottle, giving her a sly look when she leaned back to keep it out of his grip. "I woulda done the same thing."
Baylee's smile was beginning to grow, even showing the hint of his front teeth. God, beer goggles even worked on pretty women. Now, Mila looked almost irresistible. He didn't even realize he was scooting over to her side of the bar until he was standing only a foot away from her. Oh, well. Whatever happens happens. "Are y'gonna give me the bottle, or am I gonna have to fight you for it?"
"Fight me?" Mila's playfully childlike smile, went positively wicked. Her smirking lips met the rim of the bottle once more as she sole another deep gulp. A little 'ahhhh' escaped her mouth as she swollowed the clear liquid, not once taking her eyes from Baylee's. The green was glowing the in the light of the kitchen, warming along with his smile. Despite the fact that he was swaying slightly on his feet his gaze was oh so steady on her. Why did her alcohol addled brain think that he was really looking at her right now? Why was his gaze so fierce?
Baylee's hand came into her fogged line of vision, and Mila moved the bottle out of his reach once more, putting it behind her back. The action put them closer together, forcing Mila to tilt her head farther to look at him. The effect didn't look awkward though, she just looked like she was teasing him mercilessly. "Fight me??" She asked again, her voice a soft rasp in the space between them. "You couldn't handle me in a fight, Baylee." Good god, what was she doing? Daring him to make a move? Mistake. Mistake. Mistake
"I box with Berry, búp bê," he said, giving her a drunken smile. All of his teeth were out, now. They were surprisingly white, like a dentist's. "I doubt you could do much."
He reached around her back with both of his arms, inadvertently hugging her as he snatched the bottle from her hands. There wasn't even a blush on his face as he pulled away and tossed back a few gulps of the bottle. He was that drunk. Typically when he was typsy, he would just lay down on his face and pass out, but with Mila, it was like a spike of energy through his system. His heart raced and his mind was swimming of a shitload of bad ideas, all of them including Mila.
"What do you have to say about this?" he asked, holding the bottle over his head and out of her reach.
"You could box with god, and still not be able to handle me." Mila said, sticking her tongue out again as she stretched on her tip toes to reach the bottle. Dammit, Baylee was just so tall. Her arm barely passed his face even all the way extended. Honestly, it wasn't fair. Baylee wiggled the bottle, teasing her, and let out a laugh that was just as warm as Mila was feeling. She felt it caress her skin like trailing fingers and suddenly wanting nothing more than to feel him actually touching her. Even drunk Mila knew those were dangerous thoughts. Dangerous thoughts needed drowning out. She'd have to climb on the chair to reach it–
So that's exactly what Mila did. It sounded like a smart idea, despite her balance being off. But they were both laughing, and drunk Mila had zero fear of falling. How many times had her Aunt called her a daredevil? Always pushing her luck to the extremes just to feel on top of the world even if just for a moment. Bracing her bare foot on the pad of the chair, Mila hoisted herself up, swaying dangerously as her head swam at the sudden movement. Somehow she managed to right herself, quickly using Baylee's distraction–What was he staring at? Was their something on her face?–to snatch the bottle away. "Ah HA!" She crowed, downing much more than she probably should have in victory.
"I would rather us not drink all of my vodka in a single night, búp bê," Baylee said hands on his hips as he looked up at her with that happy smile on his face. "So please, gimme the bottle so I can put it up."
Mila shook her head with a mischievous smile, tossing her head back as she put the bottle to her lips again. The only issue was the fact that she was standing up on a chair while shit-faced drunk. One of her knees gave out just as her head snapped back and the momentum caused her to fall backwards like a trust fall, her arms flailing wildly. The only thing that saved the back of her skull from crashing into the concrete was the quick reflexes of Baylee, who, in a moment of sobriety, quickly hustled underneath the woman and caught her bridal style.
"Fuckin' Christ, Mila," he said, although he was holding back a drunken giggle, "the fuck was that?"
"Falling." Mila stated rather calmly, despite the death grip she had around Baylee's neck and adrenaline rushing through her bloodstream. She had managed to keep a hold of the liquor–priorities–but now she plopped the bottle on the counter, the clear liquid sloshing in the near empty bottle. They had drank a lot. Whoops.
She turned her gaze back to Baylee, not making any move to return to the ground. It was much too comfy within the confines of Baylee's arms. Mila wanted to say something witty. Something that would make him laugh, but all her brain could process at the moment was: "Ya got me." As if they were children playing tag. Brilliant. But he smiled again, that big glorious smile that melted her entirely. Mila's free hand came up to touch it gently, fingers tracing the outline of a dimple on his cheek.
Baylee opened his mouth to respond, but Mila was already there, pulling him down to her lips in a rush that was almost as terrifying as her fall.
His reaction was immediate, turning entirely to plop her ass on the counter and step further into Mila's embrace. Not once breaking the kiss, one of Baylee's hands sliding around her waist, while the other got lost in the tresses of her hair, pulling her flush against him. Mila made a little sound in the back of her throat, parting her lips just in time to catch his again.
Baylee didn't even realize what he was doing until he got her onto the counter. The frustrations of his life, the confusion of his feelings, and his moral standards were thrown into the wind from the moment their lips met to the point he opened his eyes. The inhibitions that formed walls in his brain were washed away by a wave of alcohol and hormones and he ran purely on instinct. That was, until he realized what the fuck he was doing.
He broke the kiss and took a couple of steps backwards, sobering up in milliseconds. The feeling of her hands on his back still seemed to taunt him. The taste of her lips was still on his tongue, a mix of vodka and…something sweet that was intoxicating. Yet, no matter how much he wanted to taste it again, he couldn't bring himself to fall back into her embrace. Stupid sobriety. Gets in the way of everything.
"I'm gonna….go to bed," Baylee mumbled, staring down at his feet as he walked out of the kitchen. The blush on his face so strong it was creeping down his neck.
If anyone had been looking, they would have found the shock on Mila's face comical. She watched Baylee leave without a word. Not that any words would have stopped him, even in her rattled, drunken state she knew that he would have kept going. Although Mila did note his blush with a hint of pride. Maybe she should go after him?
She slid off the counter and padded–stumbled less than gracefully–out of the kitchen, but the soft click of Baylee's bedroom door closing rang like a gunshot through the house. Mila froze, fingertips outstretched to touch the wood. Sounds of running water and soft cursing could be heard from the otherside. "I don't understand…" She whispered. They kissed. It was a good thing…right? Despite everything that happened eariler, they had kissed.
But here she was standing alone–again. Mila turned away from the door, pressing her hands to her face as she stepped back into the living room. She'd fucked it all up. She shouldn't have kissed him, but she couldn't help it–that smile of his… "Fuck." Mila paused only to slip into her pyjamas before passing out on the couch. Future, sober Mila would have to deal with it.
Baylee woke up at around 9 the next morning, his body moaning in protest after its first sleep in 4 days. The bartender ignored it and tossed the comforter off of his body, not even realizing he'd changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top before he went to bed. Slipping onto his feet, he half-waddled over to his closet and pulled out a hoodie. He didn't feel like having another moment like yesterday, so his scars would be hidden behind cloth sleeves.
Mila was in the kitchen, still dressed in her PJ's. She appeared to be handling her hangover well, although he couldn't see her face since she had her back turned to him. Her PJ's were….cute, actually. Hugged her figure in nice places. Accentuated her figure well…Christ. He felt like a pervert checking her out.
"How long have you been up?" he asked, trying to distract himself from his dirty thoughts.
Mila turned, still very much sleepy-eyed and clutching a giant mug of dark coffee close to her lips. She gave Baylee a soft smile. "Long enough to make coffee. Would you like a cup? I hope you don't mind I used my own beans. You didn't have any?" A pale hand waved over to the tall black bag that had curling golden writing on it. Portugese to be exact.
The singer moved around the kitchen with familiarity, as if she'd been living their for months instead of barely 24 hours. She yawned rubbing at an alarmly dark circle under her eye, reaching up for another mug as she did so. It was obvious that she was still half asleep. Mila hadn't even bothered to cover the marking from the day before with make up, although it did look les angry than before.
As she passed Baylee again, she paused, turned and came back toward him. Standing on her extreme tip toes, Mila placed a feather light kiss on his lips. Her eyes had been shut the entire time she moved about. "Good Morning, Baylee." Another yawn, before she turned away.
Baylee blinked a couple of times in surprise, his body feeling frozen. Why did she just….It was so casual. Like something they've been doing for years. Like they were married. Unconsciously, he licked his lips, and tasted something sweet.
The familiar taste reminded him of last night's events. He…they….on the counter? What was in that fucking vodka? He didn't even know he could feel like that anymore. The only thing that stopped them from waking up naked in the same bed was the fact that Baylee was awkward as shit.
"Fuck." It was spoken with such aggression that it surprised even Baylee. He was mad at himself, though. SHe did nothing wrong. "……Mila? What happened last night?" Please tell me it was a fucking dream.
Very suddenly, Mila was fully awake, her heart throbbing in her chest. She was frozen, facing away from Baylee, mid pour of his cup of steaming joe. His explative had caused her to jump, slipping the hot liquid on her hand, but the pain barely registered as she put both the mug and the pot down with exaggerated slowness.
Oh shit. Oh fuck. Was had she done? Had she just kissed him out of the blue? So casually? Was she so absentminded? How mad was he? She peeked at him from behind her hair. Baylee's expression was thunderous. Mila's heart squeezed and, unbelievably, her lip wobbled. Was it such a horror to care for her? To be kissed?
"We kissed…on the counter…You don't–you don't remember?" Mila's voice was so small. Well 'seriously made out' would have been a better way to describe it, but Baylee looked ready to explode. She was so confused.
Son. Of. A. Bitch. Here he was preaching how they should take it slower and try and get to know each other better, but not even 4 hours later he was fucking making out with her. How could he be so stupid? He knew how he got when drunk. The beer goggles were a real thing for him, so he made it a point to only drink alone. To avoid situations like this.
Oh, god. She looks like she's about to cry.
"Yeah…yeah, I remember." Please stop looking at me like that. You make me feel like I'm the Boogeyman. "I ain't mad at you, búp bê," Baylee mumbled, running a hand over the stubble on the top of his head. "None of this is your fault. I'm pissed at myself. I get really…handsy when drunk, so I shoulda never came close to that fucking bottle." And the kiss was nice.
Frowning hard, Mila turned to completely face him. "It's not like I stopped you or anything!" She threw up her hands in frustration. "Actually– you know what? I was the one that kissed you. I crossed your confusing boundary. You're allowed to be mad at me Baylee." Her voice cracked, eyes shining in the morning light.
"I ruined dinner. I kissed you. If i wasn't so goddamn pushy, none of this would have happened. You can't blame yourself! And–and–" Fuck was she crying? No, but she could feel it coming. This was the absolute worst. Words were just pouring out of her, no ryhme, no reason. Mila couldn't tell who she was mad at. Herself or Baylee. Herself because she couldn't just leave this little bodunk place behind her because of the tiny bit of peace she had found here in his company. And Baylee because he was so damn confusing. Hot and cold. Hot and cold. "And kissing you felt wonderful and now I can't tell what you want of me!"
There. She said it. Or something. She said something.
"I don't know what I want." She said he could be mad. That it was alright. He should be mad. If that was the case, why couldn't he raise his voice? Anger was the one emotion he was good at. The fact that even that wasn't working correctly made him…confused. "This ain't my shit, man. Feelings. I spent about 4 years without anyone other than Berry. Even my sister doesn't talk to me. Then you come in and it's….terrifying. All these fucking emotions. I wanna hold you forever and run as far away from you as I can at the same time. I just….don't get it."
He wrapped his arms around his stomach and leaned his back against the bar, barely a foot away from where they had made out. His heart felt ready to beat out of his chest as he stared down at his feet, trying to sort through the web of emotions masking his clear thoughts. Did he just ruin his chances with her?…Maybe he did. But at least he was honest.
The steam fizzled out of her as fast as it had reared up. Confused. Mila understood that more than anything else right in this moment. A part of her was telling her to bolt, vanish, wind up in another city–town–place–where she could forget about all of this…Jacob, the bar, Baylee… But the fact that another part of her had suddenly appeared and wanted to stay, because of how just standing next to Baylee made Mila feel like she was breathing for the first time since her Aunt died. Made all the mess in her head quiet. She never wanted to let it go.
Confused. Right. They both were.
Mila had been staring at him this entire time, her lip wobbling on it's own accord. How could she tell him that she was just as terrified of him as he was of her? That kiss had been lightning in her body–Mila had even dreamed about it the night before–but Baylee was still something she couldn't wrap her head around. "I don't know what I want either…I've spent all this time running, but now I can't seem to take another step. I can't–I don't know how to do thing stuff right." Mila finally admitted it. But I want you in my life.
Baylee scratched the underside of his chin as he stared out the window in the kitchen, that stone-cold look on his face again. Anytime he felt any emotion, he put on that mask to hide it from the world. It was his shield in more ways than one. It kept him and the world from his feelings, the way he liked it. Although….it wouldn't be fair to Mila if he did that to her. Relationships are based on trust. If he didn't trust her with his emotions, this shit would fall apart.
He turned to her. He wasn't scowling, nor was he smiling. It was a…neutral expression. Maybe the hint of a smile even. For once, he looked the 25 years old he was instead of the 45.
"We'll figure it out together." That was a promise of a future for the two. Or at least a promise that there will be effort from him.
Tilting her head to the side, Mila considered his statement. Obviously, she liked the sound of 'together' because that Baylee wasn't going to kick her to the curb. He was going to try, and who would she be if see didn't rise to that peace offering he was laying before her? "Together." She murmured in agreement. A soft promise from her that she wasn't going to bolt in the middle of the night.
"I guess," Mila looked down at her hands, unsure of how he would react to her next words. God she wanted to hug him, needed that comfort right now. She felt so alone in the cold tile of the kitchen. "I guess we should set some boundaries?" It was all going to fall apart if they kept getting drunk and making out that was for sure.
"Well, for one," he said, tapping the counter, "This? Off-limits." Baylee's barely there smile grew slightly at the snort his joke elicited. "But….yeah." They both paused as they thought of potential rules. Anything that happens when we're drunk doesn't affect how we are sober. If only he could manage that. But…. "We can't be drunk together. I'm handsy and you're wild when we're drunk an' those two don't mix well, so whenever one of us starts drinking, the other one can't." For now, at least. Now that he'd accepted the situation he was in, the idea of kissing Mila seemed sooooo tempting.
Mila nodded, rolling her eyes at the first thing that decided to come out of Baylee's mouth. But the smile that broke her facade was sincere. "There's no fun in drinking alone." She muttered, crossing her arms, but immediately back tracking when Baylee arched a brow at her. "But I agree! I agree! Jeez–" A laugh broke through her guard as well. Mila tapped a finger on her chin, thinking. Her gaze unintentionally tracked up and down Baylee's form as her mind drifted. She wasnt entirely a fan of boundaries, but they needed them–if she wanted to stay, they needed them. Lordy, he was fit. "No kis–touching?" Mila gasped out, she sure had a talent for getting distracted at the wrong time.
"I……don't know about that one," he admitted, blushing slightly the moment he said it. "The kissing part I agree with, but…..friends hug all the time, right?" Baylee looked down at his hands as the sentence wore on, feeling more and more awkward. Did he sound desperate? Needy? A mix of both? "I feel like…putting too many boundaries can be as harmful as having none at all, y'know?" Was he finding excuses? Abso-fucking-lutely. And it felt like a good one, judging by her expression.