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Sprawled across the well-worn rug on the main floor of her industrial loft lay a mildly bored Kate Bishop. She absentmindedly rolled a tennis ball across the floor for her Golden Retriever rescue, Lucky, as she flicked through Instagram stories.
Story after story were her friends (and friends of friends, and her favorite celebrities) all out and about, living their best New York City life on this Friday night. She saw glimpses of a couple parties she was invited to (and impolitely declined by leaving the invitations on “Read”), her ex’s friends taking shots in a kitchen, beautifully plated food from neighborhood restaurants, even a lively game night among a group of what appeared to be eight tight-knit friends.
Kate rolled her eyes. She knows she could be having as much fun as all of them, but she just hasn’t had the courage to go out again. Every time she thinks about it, she gets crippling anxiety and shuts the thought down immediately.
They live only a few blocks from each other and still share some social circles. The odds of them running into each other are just too high for the young brunette to risk—not when she’s still recovering from it all. Kate’s never been heartbroken like this before, but she’s also never deserved it like this before either.
She swipes back to her ex’s friend’s story. She had skipped it after watching the first 10 seconds of shot-taking. The next video is of the friend, Anya, recording walking up to an Uber (or Lyft, Kate supposes) with a title “me & the besties off to steal ur man 💋” written in glowing pink script. Kate rolls her eyes again.
The third installment of the story was a selfie taken in the dark car. Anya was smiling sweetly at the camera while another girl kissed her cheek. Kate didn’t recognize her. The fourth was a Boomerang, three well-manicured hands cheers-ing more shots back and forth.
Kate’s heart drops instantly as she holds her thumb down on the screen to pause the boomerang.
She would recognize that hand anywhere. The neatly trimmed nails, the small scar on the middle finger’s knuckle that she’s kissed so many times before, the ever-present silver birthstone ring Kate had given as a birthday gift last year.
Her heart aches at the fact that the ring is still worn. Kate figured it would’ve been melted down in a homemade bonfire or pawned off for a quick buck by now. Afterall, she would deserve just that.
She lets go of the screen. When the story advances to the next Instagram user, Kate swipes down to close it.
She sighs, putting her phone down as she rolls the ball again for Lucky, this time with more umph. He scrambles after it, feet skidding for non-existent traction on the smooth cement floor. While it does bring a smile to her lips, Kate also makes a mental note to get him some socks with grips on them.
“Would you even wear doggy socks, Luck?” she asks him as he trots over to her, proud as ever with the ball in his mouth. He drops it into her lap and proceeds to sit politely in front of her.
Kate smiles again and scratches behind his ears, just how he likes. He shuts his one good eye and revels in the attention.
“I love you, you handsome man, you,” she whispers affectionately before planting a kiss atop his nose.
Just then, her phone comes alive with “My Phone is Trying to Kill Me” by The Aces
Greer illuminates the screen, accompanied by the most unflattering photo Kate has of her best friend.
Pursing her lips to the side, she debates if she even feels like answering. She doesn’t need a psychic to tell her why Greer’s calling.
Reluctantly, she slides her finger across the bottom of the screen and immediately hits the speakerphone button. She continues petting Lucky, who has since laid down and rolled over, hoping for a belly rub.
She indulges him as she greets Greer, “Hey G, what’s up?”
“Best friend! What are you doing right now?” Greer rushes out. Kate can hear some rustling in the background.
“Uhh…,” Kate tries to think of an excuse, but is cut off before she can come up with anything.
“You’re getting ready to go out with us, that’s what you’re doing right now,” she informs Kate eagerly. “Xander got us on the list at Haus of Nix! He got a table, bottle service, the whole shebang, Kate.”
Kate groans, she really doesn’t want to go anywhere, much less to a club that’s probably going to be packed. The name sounds vaguely familiar, so she assumes it’s a hotspot. She looks down at Lucky and weighs her options internally while Greer continues on.
“Do you know how hard I’ve tried to get a table there? It’s insanely exclusive, Kate Elizabeth, and I’m not letting you miss this opportunity,” Greer states matter-of-factly. “You have been wallowing in self-pity for two months.”
Kate stays silent. It’s not necessarily untrue…
Greer continues, but this time her voice is softer, “Yes, you messed up, but you did what you could to make it right, Kate. It’s time to put your big-girl panties on and leave your apartment. It’s going to be okay…”
Kate chews on her bottom lip, silent for another moment before caving. “When you’re right, you’re right,” she breathes out.
“Yes! That’s my girl!” Greer praises loudly. “Go shower, I can smell you from here.”
“Hey! I showered two days ago, I’ll have you know,” Kate laughs out, relieved to actually feel her mood lighten.
Her best friend chuckles through the phone and Kate hears more rustling. Now she just assumes her best friend is getting ready for the night ahead.
Greer speaks up over the background noise, “I’ll order a ride and come pick you up so we can go together. We’re supposed to meet Xan there at 10:30.”
It’s closer to 10:45 by the time they arrive at the upscale club. Kate thanks the driver as she climbs out of the backseat, her fresh Doc Marten’s hitting the asphalt. She feels good for the first time in a long time. It helps that she’s properly dressed for the first time in a long time, too. She’s beginning to wear a hole into all her pajama bottoms.
Kate dons her favorite black pants with orange floral patterns and a plain black cropped t-shirt. Her various gold rings and gold Kate necklace complete her simple, but polished look.
She notices there’s a line wrapped around the block for Haus of Nix, but Greer ignores it and heads straight for the bouncer. Kate knows next to nothing about this place, so she follows her friend’s lead.
“We’re on the list,” she tells the man dressed in all black.
“Names?” he asks, unimpressed by the young women standing before him.
Kate eyes Greer, somewhat skeptical.
“We’re here for a reservation for Xander Manzano,” she asserts confidently before attempting to peer over the top of the tall man’s clipboard. He quickly lifts it away from Greer’s eye level and turns a few pages.
Kate can hear people in the line murmuring about the situation. Some just groan outright at having to wait.
“Alright, ladies. Mr. Manzano has checked in for his table. Go on in, they’ll give you your VIP wristbands to the left,” the man informs monotonously.
After checking in for their wristbands at a host podium, they make their way to the VIP section. Greer is wholly encompassed by the sheer beauty of Haus of Nix, but Kate is rather neutral about it all. Sure, it’s a gorgeously restored building from the 19th century, colorful lights all around, modern seating and bar, but all she really cares about is getting drunk and dancing with her friends tonight.
Xander welcomes Greer with a sweet kiss on the lips and a side hug for Kate. He’s holding a drink and swaying back and forth to the beat of the current song. A few of his other friends are also present and taking full advantage of their VIP area, just as Kate intends to do.
“Let’s get this party started!” he shouts obnoxiously loud.
Kate wastes all of 2 seconds before making herself a drink with the bottles and mixers on the table. Greer hands her a shot, which she downs quickly with a grimace. Tequila isn’t really her thing.
She had grown used to the taste of vodka over the past year and a half, and even after the breakup, Kate’s go-to is her ex-lover’s favorite, Beluga Gold Line. It’s a harsh reminder of what she’s lost. The smooth taste brought her both happy memories and extensive regret for her past actions. It was bittersweet, always.
It’s after another shot and two mixed tequila drinks that Kate makes her way to the restroom. She’s absentmindedly dancing her way through the crowd as she heads toward the back of the club where she initially saw the giant neon sign on her way in. She happens to look up towards the second VIP loft, on the opposing side of her own section, and sees a young blonde woman at the railing looking down at the mass of dancing bodies. She looks vaguely like…
Kate continues moving but blinks harder to try and align her double vision. She looks back up at the woman and her mouth runs dry, stomach beginning to churn.
“Lena,” she whispers to herself, still blinking harshly in attempt to see clearly. She hasn’t seen that breathtaking face in months, and she wants a good look so she can determine if she’s hallucinating or not.
She can’t imagine Xander’s friends would drop something in her drink. They like to party and all, but somehow Xan manages to not hang around total losers.
Kate’s body collides with another and she’d broken from her blinking and staring spell. She feels droplets of wetness on her arm and turns her attention to the situation at hand.
“Watch the fuck where you’re going,” a gruff voice tells her. He shoots Kate a dirty look and quickly wipes the droplets off his wrist.
Thankful she didn’t spill his drink all over him, the tipsy brunette mumbles out an apology as she side-steps him and continues her journey to the bathroom. She casts a glance backward at where she thought Yelena was, but sees an empty space instead. Kate frowns, shaking her head.
She’s not here. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re out with your friends. You’re having a great time forgetting about your issues. You’re fine.
Kate makes it to the short line for the ladies’ room and does her best to hold back her potty dance. She tilts her head toward the ceiling, closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath. That jittery, icky feeling is starting to set into her veins—the one she gets every time she sets foot outside her apartment as of late. She’s acutely aware of her heart beating, which only further affirms the anxiety gripping at her.
“Hello. Can you hurry up?” a high-pitched woman whines behind her.
She takes another deep breath before opening her eyes. She looks around and realizes it’s her turn.
She’s definitely drunk now and dancing with Xander’s best friend, Alex. He’s always been nice to Kate, and she’s pretty sure he flirts with her, but she’s not interested. It used to flatter her, but now she knows she’s officially not into men at all, so she’s finally able to just brush off unwanted male attention.
Besides, Alex knows this information, too, so she pretty sure he won’t cross any lines. Again, Xan doesn’t hang with losers.
Her gaze naturally flits across the way at the opposing VIP loft.
It all seemingly happens in slow-motion.
It’s her. She’s actually here. Kate knows now she’s not hallucinating because Anya is here also, dancing closely to Yelena. So close that Kate feels something flare up in her chest, a pang of jealousy.
Yelena looks up and their eyes meet. She is undeniably drop-dead gorgeous, as she always has been. Kate notices as the strobe lights flash over the blonde’s face, she has a light sheen of sweat layered over her skin that makes Kate salivate like a starved dog in anticipation of a treat.
Kate won’t deny, some of her favorite times with her ex-girlfriend were right after Yelena was done working out. Yelena found it strange the first time Kate pounced on her after coming back from a jog, but quickly forgotten her qualms when Kate found the sweet spot on her neck.
Kate was ripped from her memory when Greer grabbed hold of her forearm.
“K.B., don’t look now. Do not look, but I think I—,” she begins to slur, but Kate interrupts.
“I already see—I saw already. I saw her. She’s here t’… murder me,” Kate gushes drunkenly. She didn’t realize how far gone she actually was until she heard herself speak. She cringes at herself while straining to listen to Greer.
“You’re so dumb,” her best friend rolls her eyes. “She’s not going—you’re not gonna die, dummy. It’s fine. She’s over it. You’re—you should be over it, but you—you’re you, so that’s not gonna happen any time soon, prolly, but it’s fine. Don’ even look at ‘er!”
Kate huffs in offense. “Shush—shut up! I don’t deserve to be blessed by her presence. She’s a goddamn gift,” she grumbles dramatically. Greer ungracefully grabs Kate by the shoulders, shaking her back and forth.
“You shush,” she counters passionately. “I am your best friend, so I know pretty much everything ‘bout anything! You’re K.B.! Katherine ‘lizabeth. The Kate Bish’p,” she emphasizes each name with a shoulder shake. “You’re amazing, and so smart, and you’re super rich! She doesn’t deserve to be in your peasants! Pres-pesi-presence!”
The topic of conversation squints her eyes at her best friend. “I think I’m gettin’ drunker jus’ lis’nin’ to you?”
Greer is quick to press a finger to Kate’s lips, who stares back at her, unamused by the gesture. “Shh. You got this. You’re allowed to have fun, Kate. An’ you’re allowed to exist in the same space as her without havin’ a meltdown.”
Kate ponders the other woman’s words. She is Kate Bishop. That much is fact. But… all the other stuff? She’s not so sure about that. Maybe she should try and talk to Yelena—apologize to her for being at the same club. Surely, that will make Kate feel better about being here.
That makes sense, right?
“Totally,” Kate says aloud, smiling beneath Greer’s finger. It’s promptly removed when she hears Kate speak.
“Yes! See, I’m always right,” her friend nods proudly.
Kate’s eyebrows scrunch, “Huh? What—no I’ma talk to ‘er.”
She barely finishes her sentence before she’s off down the stairs to the main floor, and up the stairs on the opposite side of the room. She hears faint yelling in the distance and ignores what are probably Greer’s grievances.
This time, as Kate moves through sweaty, grinding bodies, she is sure to pay all of her attention to her steps. She flashes the man at the top of the steps her crinkled wristband and he allows her to continue to the VIP section. She blinks hard a few times to gain her composure as she makes a beeline for where she assumes Yelena’s table is.
The blonde is facing away from her, so when Kate finally reaches her destination, she is going to have to tap on her shoulder.
Yelena’s dancing with the stranger in front of her. The girl smiles at Kate, unaware of the tension between her current dance partner and the woman approaching them. Yelena must see the girl’s attention has strayed because she turns her head to catch a glimpse of who she’s smiling at.
Kate’s stomach lurches for what feels like the 17th time that night. Yelena’s easygoing expression turns to a mild frown when she locks eyes with a desperate looking Kate. She doesn’t waste another second before turning back around like nothing happened.
She taps on her shoulder gently. Yelena ignores her, and it makes Kate’s chest tighten. She taps again.
Yelena spins around angrily. “What?” she accuses, annoyance present in her Russian accent. It’s still like music to Kate’s ears.
She swallows thickly. “Can we talk?” she shouts over this particularly bass-filled song. Kate hopes she doesn’t look as pathetic as her voice sounded.
Her ex purses her lips, apparently thinking over the request. “Fine,” she states dryly, crossing her arms over her chest. Her very-nearly exposed chest, Kate drunkenly notes as she looks her up and down. Yelena has on a short, tight black dress with the thinnest straps and the most plunging neckline Kate has ever dreamt of. “Eyes up here, pervert,” the Russian jests, the smallest smile on her face. “Go. Let’s go out back.”
The two manage to find their way to the back alley for some quiet privacy. Yelena leaves the back door cracked open with a small chunk of cement she found near the door.
“Always so resourceful,” Kate muses, smitten by her ex-love. She shoves her hands in her pockets because if she doesn’t, she may reach out for the woman who will likely push her away.
Yelena sighs as she turns around and looks up at Kate. There’s a glint in her eye the brunette just can’t quite place. She stays quiet, so Kate assumes she better start talking.
“I—I didn’t expect to see you here,” she starts hesitantly. Yelena crosses her arms again, raising her eyebrows at Kate.
“Kate, I come here with my friends all the time. You can’t be surprised by this?” she questions, tilting her head in such a way that makes Kate shudder. She’s not used to being on the receiving end of Yelena being angry.
Kate considers the shorter woman’s words. She probably has seen something about that on Instagram and repressed it. Kate fumbles for what to say.
Yelena sighs again, “Look, I don’t have time for this—”
“I miss you,” Kate rushes out, panicked. The look on Yelena’s face makes her instantly regret voicing her thoughts.
Yelena clenches her jaw, tears beginning to line her eyes. “You can’t—you…,” she shakes her head, hand coming up to grip at her temples. “Katie, you can’t,” her voice breaks and Kate hates herself for putting the woman she loves in this situation at all.
She lurches into Yelena’s personal space and attempts to hug the smaller woman, but she’s pushed away.
“Stop!” Yelena seethes, eyes boring into her ex-girlfriend. Kate’s eyes start to water and she wraps her arms around herself. She feels smaller than ever before.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I know I fucked up, but I can—”
“No,” the blonde cuts in. “No, you’ve said enough sorrys. I’m tired, Kate,” she breathes out, hands out in front of her still, the only barrier between the two.
Against her better judgement, Kate takes a step closer, still outside Yelena’s respective barrier as she lets her hands fall at her sides. Their eyes meet and Kate whimpers at the sight of Yelena’s lone tear that releases. Kate beats her to brushing it away. She leaves her hand there, caressing the blonde’s face softly.
“Oh, baby,” she whispers sweetly as she brushes over her love’s cheekbone. Yelena wears that one small frown her lips form when she’s trying not the cry. It breaks Kate’s heart—always has. “Please—I’m so, so sorry,” she pleads, eyes clouding with tears and voice full of emotion.
Yelena wets her lips, bites on her bottom lip. She stays quiet but doesn’t push Kate away.
“I want to do right by you. I need to. I need you,” Kate continues desperately as she uses her free hand to wipe away at her own tears.
Yelena leans her head into the brunette’s hand. “You hurt me,” she murmurs, still frowning. “I have never, in all my years, trusted anyone the way I did you, Kate Bishop, and you made me fucking regret it.”
Both of them are crying now, Yelena’s tears of pain and Kate’s of guilt. Kate does the only thing she knows that used to bring comfort to the other woman. She gently guides the blonde by the back of her neck into her arms. Yelena doesn’t fight her this time, but her arms are crossed, clinging to herself. Kate just holds her tightly and places a kiss to Yelena’s hair.
She smells like home—like warm love, messy bedrooms, Chinese takeout, and snuggling on the couch with Lucky and Fanny. Kate takes a slow, deep breath.
“Please come home,” she requests quietly. She would be surprised if Yelena even heard her, but she needs to ask. She needs to make things right between them.
Kate can feel the smaller woman’s sharp intake of breath. “Katie…” she objects against Kate’s neck. It sends a shiver down her spine.
“Just tonight. Please. I just wanna to talk to you. Just stay with me tonight,” she begs, the hopelessness present in her tone. “I’ll make you breakfast? We—we can go pick up Fanny in the morning and go for a walk? I’ll do anything you want,” she finishes, placing her hands on Yelena’s shoulders and gently leaning her back so Kate can read her expression.
Yelena’s eyes are contemplative. She’s still worrying her bottom lip as she makes eye contact with Kate.
“Baby,” Kate coos gently, giving the Russian woman her best pleading look as she holds her breath waiting for an answer. She feels her chest tighten with nerves. She would give anything for another chance with the love of her life.
After a beat, Yelena nods slowly. “Okay,” she whispers. “Woo me,” she says blandly, and a wave of relief washes over Kate.
She can finally breathe again as she brings Yelena in for another hug. This time, it’s returned. Not as intimately as Kate would’ve hoped, but it’s a step in the right direction. She stands there holding the woman she loves and silently thanks Greer for dragging her out tonight.