DOROTHEA

SEVEN

"Oh...
Goddamn
My pain fits in the palm
of your freezing hand..."

———

Taylor cursed in her thoughts at how drunk she was.

By some strange twist in the universe, she was now sitting on a cold concrete curb in the alley next to her favorite dive bar. And sitting next to her, visibly very upset, was the girl she thought she'd never hear from again.

Drunk Taylor hadn't thought twice about following Dorothea to the exit. And Drunk Taylor also hadn't hesitated to join the brunette, who was sitting next to a pile of cardboard with her face in her hands.

And now, Sober Taylor was screaming at her somewhere deep inside her conscience to get herself together. Her vision was soft and blurry at the edges, and she was pretty sure she was swaying a little bit, too. She wondered if Dorothea could tell how wasted she was, or if she even cared.

A sudden sob shook the other girl's frame, causing Taylor to jump as well as panic. Oh god—What did she get herself into by following her outside? Did this poor girl even want someone to be with her? Did she want her? Drunk Taylor shifted to stand up, but Sober Taylor shouted in her thoughts to keep her ass on the sidewalk. How terriblly cruel would it be for her to have followed Dorothea outside, only to get up and leave her crying and alone?

She thought she was past giving a shit of what other people thought of her. But clearly she wasn't, otherwise she would have said something by now. Get your shit together!

Sober Taylor was clearly on a power trip.

Taylor rested her soft gaze on the other girl. "I saw you as you were leaving," she suddenly mentioned, "but you were alone. Did you come here by yourself?"

Dorothea took a shaky breath, nodding. "Yeah, I had to talk to the bartender—which I'm sure you heard," she explained, laughing faintly under her breath. She then looked up at her, eyes glittering with tears. "I'm sorry," she suddenly sputtered, "you shouldn't have had to see that. I wasn't expecting you—"

To be here. Taylor finished in her thoughts. She could have said the same thing about Dorothea. "Don't worry about it," she assured, then asked, "did something happen, though? Or do you know him from somewhere?"

Dorothea let out a stiff laugh, wiping the corners of her eyes with her thumbs. "Yeah, I know him. Unfortunately. He's my ex's former roommate—or maybe current. I have no idea," she said. She could sense Taylor processing the information, then added, "I came here because I needed to ask him something—about my ex. I've been trying to reach him, but—no, I mean, not in that way—"

"For something unrelated to your relationship," Taylor offered.

"Yes," Dorothea answered. But it was too quick, and the firmness of her tone didn't match the distant look in her eyes. She suddenly shook her head, as though to clear it. "But he wasn't being helpful, which really sucked. But it is what it is." She sighed. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean for you to feel like you had to follow me out here—"

Taylor gave a gentle laugh. "You didn't force me to come out here. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Dorothea lifted her gaze to meet hers, and in the depths of the golden bronze flecks that swirled around the girl's pupils, Taylor once again detected a deep root of sadness. The same exact way she had that night at The Pearl. "Thanks," Dorothea said.

Taylor's red lips twisted into a warm —slightly-drunk— smile, and her heart fluttered as the brunette returned the expression. It was at that moment that Taylor realized she hadn't ever truly seen Dorothea smile. The girl smiled, of course, as she served them at the restaurant; as she popped their bottle of Dom and toasted to Taylor's career; as she sheepishly, but gratefully accepted the cash tip. But the small, hesitant smile that flashed across Dorothea's face just now sent a current through Taylor's limbs. Despite how cold she should've been without a jacket, sitting on the curb outside on a winter night, Taylor felt the warmest she had in months.