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She didn’t know how it happened. She didn’t understand why it was happening. All Andy knew was that Emily Charlton had somehow managed to talk her way into her apartment–which hadn’t exactly been much of a challenge–and now Andy was pinned against the back of her door with Emily much, much closer than Andy was used to.
“Emily, hi,” she greeted, eyes glancing towards one of the well-manicured hands holding her in place. The older woman had taken just enough time to remove her jacket and toss it on a nearby chair before she’d lunged.
Emily let out a huff of frustration and cut her eyes. “How dare you,” she said, with a scathing edge but no real malice in her voice. Just a bitterness that Andy had only heard once. It was the same tone she had when Andy had told her about Paris. Disappointment. Humiliation. Confusion. Despair. Defeat.
Andy didn’t get it. “What’d I do?” she asked, with wide eyes and genuine perplexity. Emily’s grip on her shoulders tightened, and Andy could feel her nails starting to dig in. She opened her mouth to say something, but Emily pulled back.
The redhead crossed her arms and looked to the side petulantly. “You made me like you.” It wasn’t something she admitted lightly, but she had worked herself up enough to get there that she might as well follow through. Running from this would only make her look like a bigger fool than she already felt.
Laughing gently, the tension left Andy’s shoulders. Emily was not there to actually kill her–no matter what the look in her eyes said moments ago. “Well, I would apologize, but I’m not sorry.” She breezed past Emily and headed to the small kitchenette. “I like you too, Em,” she added, pouring the other woman a glass of red wine.
“Yes, but I don’t like people. Especially people like you!” She stared at the proffered glass before eventually taking it. “Do you have a straw? I’d rather not stain my teeth.”
Andy raised an eyebrow but didn’t follow up. By now, she was used to Emily’s over intense anxieties. Instead, she opened a drawer and pulled one out, offering it to Emily as though she was a child with a pretty weed that she’d just picked.
“Thank you,” Emily said, ignoring Andy’s earnest look. She dropped the straw into her glass, rolling it around in the red liquid a few times before finally taking a sip.
Andy briefly wondered if this was truly happening or if she’d finished the bottle herself and was now in some dream that was making very little sense. It was a ridiculous sight: Emily standing in her apartment, sipping red wine, from a straw that was far too long for the glass. But Andy couldn’t help but smile. That was until Emily nearly spit the wine all over her counter.
“Did I just,” Emily paused as she closed her eyes and shuddered. “Did I just drink... Yellow Tail?” She set the glass back down and raised her hands as though she couldn’t bear the fact that she’d even touched it.
“You did,” Andy said, trying not to laugh.
“Water!” Emily demanded. When she saw Andy grab a glass and head towards the sink, she just groaned. “Never mind.” Sitting down on one of the bar stools, she took another petulant sip of her drink, only wincing slightly at the taste. “Did I teach you nothing? This is like drinking spoiled grape juice, but without the benefit of getting a bit tipsy.
“You taught me plenty. I just don’t happen to be able to afford some of those luxuries anymore,” Andy explained. “So, Yellow Tail it is.”
“If you’re going for trash you could at least buy that fruity nonsense that your people were so fond of a few years back.”
“Arbor Mist?” Andy said, pulling back. “That’s basically just juice. Besides, ‘my people’? We’re just broke. It’s not like we’re peasants or anything.”
“I really don’t see a difference. Nor do I care. This is vile.”
Andy, taking pity on her friend, rolled her eyes, and pulled a bottle from a cabinet. “I have vodka?” she offered. When she saw Emily hesitate over the brand, she turned to the fridge. “And orange juice. You won’t even be able to taste the quality. I promise.”
She resisted asking Andy if she had a Brita filter or something to run the vodka through at least once. “Fine,” Emily agreed, pushing the wine farther away from herself. “Does it have pulp?” she asked in exasperation.
Nodding, Andy was surprised to see Emily perk up a little bit. “I guess there are some things we agree on.” When she was met with silence, she continued to move around the kitchen and make them drinks–fresh straws included. “So, Emily, how is it that you know what Yellow Tail tastes like after one mere sip?”
“I have taste buds,” Emily snapped as if it were obvious.
Taking the seat next to her, Andy nodded slowly. “Yes, but,” she leaned down to her straw and took a sip, looking up at Emily, “you nailed exactly what it was without even seeing the bottle. Which means...”
“Yes, alright,” Emily said, throwing up her hands. “I’ve had it before. Enough times to recognize it.” There was a pregnant pause before she continued. “I haven’t always been able to afford a standard of taste either. I know I’m exquisite, but I did actually work to get where I am. Despite what you may think.”
“Hey,” Andy snapped. “I never said or thought anything like that.” She reached over and grabbed Emily’s hand. When the redhead tried to pull free, she just held on tighter. “Emily,” Andy said firmly. When she was ignored, she repeated herself until the other woman looked at her. “I don’t think you got to where you are just because you have good taste. I know you’re brilliant, and work hard, and have great style, and that despite what you want people to think, you care a great deal about people.”
“I do not!” Emily said out of reflex. She scrunched up her nose and shrugged. “Okay, maybe a little. And only some people.”
“Some people like me?” Andy teased.
“I take it back. I don’t think I like you very much after all,” Emily said haughtily, but couldn’t hide the smile creeping onto her lips. They made brief eye contact before she sighed. “You left. You made me like you, and then you left. What am I supposed to do with that?”
“This?” Andy said as if it were obvious. “Call me. Come visit. I can follow you around and make fun of you while you shop for things that cost more than my rent, or we could just do lunch or get drinks.”
“I suppose you’d expect me to pay as well,” Emily didn’t even try to make it sound like that mattered to her.
“Well, we can always go to one of my favorite restaurants.”
“Being your friend is going to be such an inconvenience,” she sighed dramatically with little irony. “You know, I was actually starting to enjoy my job with you around.”
“Only because I finally figured out what I was doing, and you didn’t have to train anyone or cover for my mistakes.”
“That’s all true,” she said, staring at her glass and stirring the straw around absently. “But it wasn’t only that.”
Andy’s face fell into a lopsided sad smile. She’d known for a while that Emily didn’t really hate her, but she didn’t realize that she’d cared either. “Well, you still have Serena and Nigel,” she offered, knowing it sounded hollow. It wasn’t just about friendship. They may not have realized it at the time, but they had bonded through the unending torment that was Miranda as well.
“I hardly have time to see Serena anymore with all the extra work I have now, thanks to you,” she said, glaring at Andy with an otherwise blank expression. “And Nigel... he’s not the same since he came back from Paris.”
“Understandable. What Miranda pulled was pretty shitty,” Andy said, recalling how thrilled he’d been at the opportunity to be out from beneath Miranda’s direct power. She wondered if Emily had any idea how excited he had been. Emily saw Miranda as more than just a means to an end. She may not be as devout as she first seemed, but she did see it as a learning opportunity and an honor.
“She did her job,” Emily responded without hesitation–a script she’d been parroting since day one.
“That’s not an excuse, and you know it. It was bullshit,” Andy said, with a little more venom than expected. “A job shouldn’t matter more than someone’s life like that. You shouldn’t have to choose between being employed or crushing someone else’s dreams.”
She didn’t say anything, but Emily struggled to spin some sort of explanation or justification. The truth was that there was none. Andy was right. Maybe Emily had known that for a long time, but she had never felt brave enough to have those sorts of thoughts about Miranda. She had always been scared on some level that the woman would pick up on them and fire her on the spot.
Andy slumped down in her seat and leaned heavily against the bar sipping on her drink. “You know, she pointed out that I sort of did the same thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“To you. I put my career ahead of our friendship.”
“You... I... it doesn’t matter. I would have done the same thing.” Had they been friends? Were they now? “Besides, it’s not exactly like we were friends. Coworkers yes. But friends?”
Andy ignored Emily’s questioning. If anything, it made her wonder how many actual friends Emily had left. She couldn’t imagine many. Emily went out on the occasional date. She talked to Serena and some of the other clackers at work. But friends? “Maybe you would have, but I should have apologized a lot sooner than this. I know what it meant to you. I’m sorry.”
Rolling her eyes, Emily waved her apology off. “You already apologized,” Emily said, around her straw in a very un-Emily like way. Maybe the alcohol was lowering her inhibitions a little. It had been so long since she hadn’t felt like judging eyes were on her or that someone was watching over her shoulder searching for mistakes.
“I did?”
“Well, maybe not apologized, heaven forbid you even do that correctly, but you did bribe your way out of my anger with the clothes. Don’t think I didn’t know what you were trying to do. I’m still bitter, but the clothes helped.”
Andy looked down at her drink and felt her cheeks redden. Hopefully, she just looked flushed from the wine. Glancing back up, she realized Emily was too busy looking around her apartment to notice. Before she had time to feel self-conscious, Emily spoke again.
“It’s not just Paris, though. He misses you. We all do.” Emily turned back to face Andy with a sincere look. “I’m still mad about you quitting though.”
“You’ll find someone new, and she’ll figure it out. It’s just not going to happen overnight.” Andy suddenly felt like she was consoling Emily over a massive breakup. She shook that idea right out of her head and steered the conversation to something more factual than emotional. “How’s it going anyway?”
“We’re on ‘Emily’ number seven,” the redhead said despondently.
“Seven?!” Andy asked, turning to fully face her friend. “I’ve been gone for barely two months. It took me longer than that to learn how to walk in those shoes!”
“Yes, well, I suppose we all got rather used to having someone competent enough to actually learn anything. Even if it did take some time. And you still weren’t very good at it.”
Ignoring the jab, Andy was too shocked to even roll her eyes. “But seven? That’s... like one a week?”
“Yes, it is. I barely have a chance to start training them, and she’s already dismissing them. She’d kill me if she found out, but I’ve been going in on Saturdays to try and go over some of the basics with these girls before they even start. The company pays them, of course, but Miranda has no idea.”
“Are any of them any good? I mean I know she’s ridiculous, but that’s insane. How bad can they really be?”
“Well, there was the girl who didn’t know how to use the phone. The girl who spilled Miranda’s coffee–on Miranda. The girl who somehow managed to hand Miranda her own jacket instead of Miranda’s. Oh, and the one who asked Miranda if she’d ever thought of dying her hair. The others aren’t even worth mentioning.”
“Are they still alive?”
“As far as I know,” Emily said as though their deaths might be a real possibility.
“Wait, why are they ‘Emily’? I figured they’d be ‘Ahn-dre-ah’ this time around.”
“Oh, right. I forgot to mention that.” Emily smirked. “Your name has been banned from the office. She’s started to get a twitch anytime anyone mentions you. Which isn’t often any longer. At least not in front of her. Makeup hired a man named Andrew, Andy of course, and Miranda told him he could either change his name or leave.”
“She didn’t,” Andy said, still somehow shocked by Miranda’s actions. How could anyone, even Miranda, feel that the world so totally revolved around themselves?
Emily tilted her head and gave Andy a look, blinking heavily. “Of course she did.” She shook her head in disappointment. “Honestly, why do you even still question these things?”
“I just didn’t realize that quitting would even have an impact on her.”
“Andrea Sachs, people do not quit working for Miranda. They are fired or move up or on, they disappear never to be heard of again, but they do not quit.”
Rolling her eyes, Andy stood up and grabbed her drink. “Let’s move to the couch.” Gesturing for Emily’s cup, she offered to make refills.
Emily looked at her suspiciously. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Obviously. That way, I can find out all your weaknesses and dark, mysterious secrets.”
“I have no weaknesses,” Emily said, jutting her chin skywards.
“I’m not trying to get you drunk,” Andy assured, leaning over Emily’s shoulder as she passed. “I’m trying to get to know you.”
“You do know me.”
“No, the real you. I know work-you. There’s more than that. I know there’s a human person in there somewhere.”
“Some days I wonder,” Emily said, wistfully. She rose to her feet and moved to the couch before Andy could respond.
Andy watched her for a moment before fixing their drinks. She wasn’t exactly surprised to see Emily lose some of her edges outside of work. She just wasn’t expecting the vulnerability that kept slipping into the conversation.
As she moved, she tried to think of what she could do or say that would help. She wasn’t kidding when she said that she wanted to get to know this Emily, but she didn’t know how to interact with her yet. She had a feeling that it would only take one slip-up, and the walls would be back in place.
“Snacks?” Emily asked as Andy returned her drink. There was a small pout to her lips that she didn’t even realize she was making. It quickly slid into a slight grin when she saw the panicked look in Andy’s eyes.
“Uh, yeah, sure. Um,” the younger woman stumbled, trying to think of what she had that Emily would actually eat. Snacks ? Emily didn’t snack! “I have, well, I think Nate left some almonds. I have hummus that I’ve started eating with sliced up cucumbers?” Emily’s face didn’t respond to any of it. “I could order something?” Andy stumbled through the mental math to see if she actually had enough on her credit card to pull that off. She certainly didn’t have enough in her bank account to appease the redhead.
Shaking her head, Emily laughed. “Real snacks. Your kind of snacks.”
Andy’s jaw dropped. “Oh, well, I have some Twizzlers, Goldfish, chocolate, and um...” She noticed Emily looking increasingly interested with each item listed. “I have cheesecake,” she teased, knowing that she’d hooked her.
“That,” Emily said quickly. She’d been eating more, but she hadn’t started to indulge in anything substantial since she’d left the hospital. Even there she had basically lived off pudding and bread. It had cost her, but it seemed like the time she’d spent in the cast had exerted her a bit more than usual. Refusing to take time off and balancing on crutches and a stiletto had been quite the challenge. Sure, she’d missed the gym, but it seemed to be balancing out in an acceptable manner.
Stopping herself from saying something stupid. Andy just nodded. “Okay, cheesecake it is.” She went to the kitchen and was back in mere minutes. “Here ya go,” she said, handing Emily a spoon.
Emily looked at the spoon, the cheesecake, Andy’s spoon, and realized there weren’t any plates.
“If I am initiating you back into the world of the living, we’re doing this right,” Andy explained. She placed the cheesecake on the couch between them and sat down facing Emily.
The younger woman watched as Emily, in her ridiculous skirt, couldn’t quite find a comfortable way to sit facing her. “Come here,” Andy said, not giving Emily a choice as she grabbed her hand and dragged her towards her makeshift bedroom and dresser.
Surprised, but not shocked, Emily followed with little reluctance. That lasted just long enough for Andy to dig through her dresser and grab a pair of dark grey joggers that she shoved in Emily’s direction.
“Change into these,” Andy said, already digging through the pile of clothes next to her bed for a clean shirt. “This too,” she said, tossing a black tank top at Emily.
Emily had no choice but to try and catch it since it seemed that Andy had aimed it directly at her face. “These will never fit,” she deadpanned. “The shirt doesn’t matter, but these... pants are going to fall right off.”
“They have a drawstring,” Andy said, perking up from where she was still crouched and piling the clean laundry back up. She grinned at Emily’s expression.
Emily’s eyes widened in disgust, but she merely tossed them on the bed and began to undress. Shy was not something she did. Ever. Even when it came to taking her clothes off.
Unfortunately for Andy, embarrassed was something she did very well. Emily was standing in the narrow space that was her only escape. Standing there awkwardly, she tried not to stare. Her friend was still a bit on the too skinny side, but Andy could see the curves filling in and couldn’t help but acknowledge how good they looked.
Trying to hide her amusement, Emily took her time changing. She laid out her own clothes neatly on Andy’s bed so that they wouldn’t wrinkle. Then quickly changed, for the first time realizing that Andy either didn’t have heat or it wasn’t working. “Better?” she asked, looking up at her friend.
“Much,” Andy said. “Now, junk food.” She shuffled Emily back into the living room, where they picked their conversation back up. Over the next few hours, they drank most of the bottle of vodka, finished the whole cheesecake, a Twix bar each, the bottle of Yellow Tail, and an entire package of Twizzlers–or as Emily called them, flavored wax sticks. She refused to believe they were supposed to taste like strawberries or contained anything other than wax.
Emily threw herself back against the couch. “I’m going to die,” she said, lazily turning her head towards Andy. “You’ve successfully overdosed me with sugar, alcohol, and junk. At this rate, these pants will fit by the end of the night.”
She looked up at Emily shyly. The other woman’s head was tilted back, and her eyes were closed. She was blissed out from the pleasant evening and didn’t look like she wanted to move anytime soon. “Speaking of the end of the night,” Andy said, not sure how to frame what she wanted to ask.
Stiffening slightly, Emily assumed Andy was about to throw her out. She had no idea how long they’d been talking, but perhaps she’d overstayed her welcome.
“It wouldn’t be much of a slumber party if you didn’t stay over?” she asked, testing the other woman gently. Despite the progress she felt they'd made, there was still a very real chance the question would send Emily running.
Emily relaxed once more and didn’t even bother to argue that this was definitely not a slumber party or add any other quippy remarks to her response. “You’re not going to make me sleep on this couch, are you?”
“Of course not,” Andy laughed. “You can have my bed. I’ll take the couch.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Emily said, rolling her eyes. “This couch is horrible, and your bed is big enough for both of us. Though I don’t suppose your mattress is much better.” She smiled softly at Andy’s confused look. Sharing a bed didn’t seem like such a big deal with the amount of alcohol fogging her thoughts.
“Oh, okay.” Andy grinned and nodded. “I just didn’t want to assume...” She didn’t care how much Emily complained. They’d had a great time. They hadn’t talked about anything serious, but that was okay. It was good to see Emily loosen up and enjoy herself.
“I’m quite certain neither of us have cooties,” Emily said. “Well, even if you did, you’ve touched half my food and drinks all night anyway. That’s not even counting your lack of plates.”
Tossing her head back, Andy laughed. “I’m sure the alcohol would have killed off any germs anyway,” she added. They were sitting next to each other at this point, leftover containers and wrappers haphazardly spilled upon the small coffee table. She leaned her head over and tilted it on Emily’s shoulder. “I had fun tonight.”
“Must you lay all over me,” Emily said, gazing at her friend. She couldn’t even muster up a glare. It had been fun. And truth be told, Andy leaning against her didn’t feel like such a bad thing.
“You’re comfortable, plus you just said I don’t have cooties,” Andy teased. She looked up and was surprised at the smoldering look on Emily’s face. “What?” she asked, suddenly feeling very nervous.
Without saying anything, Emily grabbed Andy by the back of the neck and pulled her forward into a kiss. She’d thought about asking if Andy had ever kissed a girl–she had on more than one occasion–but the question didn’t matter.
They broke apart, but neither spoke for several seconds. Finally, Andy broke the tension. “No cooties?”
Emily shook her head and turned her body more towards Andy. “Not that I can tell.” She brought her mouth back to Andy’s, and soon they were making out like two drunken teenagers.
They continued like that until Emily was unsatisfied with the clumsiness of it all. With little ceremony, she stood up, pulled her shirt off, and straddled Andy’s lap.
Nervously, Andy put her hands on Emily’s hips, drawing them slowly up and down the older girl’s waist. She was soon lost in kissing once more. As Emily trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down her jaw, Andy found herself moaning the redhead’s name.
She’d never been a very vocal lover, but something about this moment–or maybe just the way Emily was groping at her–had taken over all her senses.
With the little restraint she had left, Emily broke her mouth away from Andy’s neck. “Louise,” she said huskily.
Tilting her head further, Andy’s face morphed into confusion. “No... Andrea,” she reminded. Was Emily really drunk enough that she didn’t remember where she was? Should she stop this?
“Not you,” Emily growled, pushing her way out of Andy’s grasp. “Me,” she said, with a quick nip on Andy’s bottom lip. She angled her face back towards Andy’s neck and nearly sobbed when she felt the younger woman tug gently on her hair.
“Hold up,” Andy said, swallowing hard and shifting Emily on her lap so that she could see her better. “You?” she pointed. “You’re Louise?”
Emily rolled her eyes and sighed. “Yes.”
“You’re not Emily?”
Emily dropped her head to Andy’s shoulder and sobbed in frustration. “No, I’m not Emily. Well, I mean, I guess I am. It’s just not my name.”
Andy cocked her head in confusion. “Is this some kinky role-play thing that I’m not picking up on?”
Sitting up, Emily pursed her lips and drew her hands into her lap. She sighed, wishing she hadn’t said anything at all. It had just been such a long time since she’d been herself. “The girl before me was Emily. Well, at least I think she was. She goes by Colette now.”
Laughing, Andy tangled their fingers together and bit her bottom lip. “You’re an idiot.” She pulled the redhead towards her and began to kiss her way down her jawline and neck. “You know that Louise?” she said, making sure to punctuate the woman’s name right before she bit down gently.
Emily tried to resist the shiver at both the sensation and hearing her name, but it was no use. “No. Never mind. It sounds weird when you say it. Emily is fine.”
Andy pulled back, and just shook her head laughing. “Whatever you say, Louise ,” she replied, before pushing the other woman off her lap and onto her back on the couch. She laughed at the very undignified squeal she received in response.
Scowling, Emily pulled Andy towards her and adjusted to their new position. “Just shut up and get back to kissing me.” She smiled as Andy looked down, adoringly at her. If this was her reward for honesty, she could definitely get used to being Louise once more.