peaches | fillie

epilogue

Millie slid off her heels and shoved a pair of worn-out converse over a pair of socks that she had pulled out from inside of her dresser. Wearing the sneakers was the closest feeling Millie could achieve to being barefoot, so she basked in the comfort as she gave herself a once-over in the mirror attached to her door. It was a simple outfit; mom jeans and a pink sweater, but it was cute and warm and acceptable for a quick visit to the local bar.

Her hand reached into the makeup bag on her desk and she smeared a new layer of gloss over her lips before slinging her purse over her shoulder and starting out the door again.

***

Millie approached the person she had planned on meeting up with, a tall woman who taught English lit at Eastman and always had some sort of story to tell. She was currently rattling off to the man behind the bar about some insane asylum she had escaped and later gotten shut down. It was a wild plot that was in no way true to life, somehow resulting in her bulldozing the hospital and creating a taco stand in its place.

The bartender seemed strangely enthralled in the lies she was telling him, proving just how believable she was able to make the stories seem.

"Rowan, if that's your flirting tactic, you need to find a new one," Millie said, startling the couple. The redhead whipped around and smiled widely, her eyes bright and full of whatever entertainment she gained from fooling gullible people.

"Don't hate whatchu can't have, sweetcheeks," Rowan countered while still grinning, "It's just in my nature to be charming as fuck." Millie rolled her eyes and pulled the taller girl into her embrace.

"I'm sure," She groaned, taking a seat next to her and ordering a Shirley Temple. "Don't mind her, she's an English major,"

The man nodded and chuckled slightly, pretending to understand the joke, then quickly set to work on her drink.

"Seriously? No alcohol, even after the principal sat in during our classes today?" Rowan gasped dramatically. She swung back her glass, swallowing the liquid easily. Millie always admired how tough she was, wearing heavy combat boots and band shirts almost daily to work. They got along easily even though Millie was positive that Rowan was twenty times cooler and more interesting than she could ever be.

"I have important things to do tomorrow, unlike some people, Miss Romina," Millie retorted. Rowan gestured to the bartender to grab her another drink before returning her focus back onto the short-haired girl.

"Is Strings tomorrow already?" She asked, her face softer than it was before.

That was another one of Rowan's talents; she could go from rambling about beef stroganoff to supporting someone with the loss of a pet in the blink of an eye. Rowan's sense of humanity, as well as her humor, was really what brought Millie to her. It had also aided in keeping their bond nearly as strong as her friends back at home in only a month.

Their friendship reminded her a lot of one of her first boyfriends, who she had had a similar experience with. Sometimes relationships just work, no strings attached.

Millie was glad that her first serious relationship with a male had been with someone like Finn. It was easy and they were practically just best friends who made out from time to time. She still wondered what had ever happened to him after they broke things off that one August afternoon five years ago. She hoped that he had still kept his looks and that he hadn't fallen back into the trap of being a jerk like he had throughout high school.

Maybe he still thinks about my lessons, Millie wondered. It was doubtful, but a girl can dream.

***