low key lavender

ghosted?

Cordelia woke up feeling stiff. Unfamiliar cologne clung to her sheets and her mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert. She rolled over, hitting a heap of neatly piled clothes on her bed. They had been on the floor and haphazardly tossed on the bed the day before, but that morning, her floor was as clear as it had been before yesterday's search for an outfit. She rolled over what she presumed was Florence's hard work.

Cordelia ripped herself from the comfort of her soft sheets and headed to the bathroom. She noticed the toothbrush she had left out had been used, and left in the cup, beside hers. She went through her morning routine of brushing her bed head out, brushing her teeth and washing her face, all while playing last night's events in her head. She wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that Florence hadn't spent the night, especially after they had stayed up so late talking and their head had been right between her legs.

She was glad they were just as cuddly as her and they definitely noticed she was trying to maintain a physical connection, otherwise they would not have blushed like that or been so tense in her lap, or greatly exaggerated their sexual prowess like that. Cordelia could tell they wanted to impress her, and treat her with respect. Cordelia supposed she could admit that a drunk hookup wouldn't have been prudent, or fair, for either of them. She just wished that she knew they wanted her in the way, especially after her fat ass had embarrassed her like that in their truck.

She went to moisturize her face and found two lines from larger fingers deep in her favorite moisturizer, most definitely not from her and she cursed herself silently for leaving it out. She finished her task with purpose and moved to find her phone. She went to her bedside where she was sure she left her phone the night before, and found a glass of water there with it.

She sent Florence a text saying, "I hope you made it home safe. I hope you don't think of me differently now that you've seen me drunk. I had a great time getting to know you last night, and in your truck, but I did not know you'd rob me blind of my fancy moisturizer. I guess we can call it even for the cleaning services you provided in my room." She wanted to make sure she recapped their night well, but felt like the message was pretty clingy. She moved to delete it, but thought better of editing herself like that. She sent it anyway and reminded herself that anyone who liked her for her, would like her for her chatty, clingy personality. She threw her phone across the bed for good measure.

She walked away from the phone, hoping she could put as much distance from her feelings as she could between her and her phone.

She walked into the kitchen and saw a pristine counter, the space much cleaner than she had left it the night before. She felt suddenly embarrassed that they had cleaned up so much after them, then kind of angry they had invaded her space like that. She knew that opening herself up to another person meant a new way of doing things, different intentions behind different actions. She told herself firmly that Florence was not her mother, who gave hidden selfish agendas to every selfless act. She put away the dishes that Florence had so generously left drying on her dish rack, convincing herself to feel grateful for the kindness.

She heard her phone ringing in the kitchen and froze. She started toward her bedroom, her slippered feet slipping like Scooby Doo on her warm hardwood floors. She dove to her phone and saw a missed call and a text from Bass, asking if she was alive.

She felt disappointed it wasn't Florence texting her, but she was excited to debrief with her bestie. She sent him a text saying, "Hope you're wearing clothes," and FaceTimed him to discuss last night's events.

-

Florence was bone tired; they didn't normally pull cl-opens after babysitting drunk girls who made them feel emotionally vulnerable. They hadn't slept since the morning before, when they slept in till noon to close the shop. They drank a lot of espresso to make it until their relief came in at 3:00, gulping it down like an Italian. They had felt nothing but relief as the jitters overtook their exhaustion during the morning rush. That Saturday morning was especially busy. They hadn't had time to fucking breath in between Karens, but between every drink they made they would text Cordelia back.