Chapter Text
Colet bobs her head to the music now faintly playing in the bar—‘faintly’ because the alcohol had started to take hold of her about 30 minutes ago, and now her face feels numb, her body seeming to have a mind of its own. The bass trembles, shaking the ground slightly, and she looks up at the couple in front of her, scrunching up her nose— a playful gesture to tease her friends Aiah and Mikha, who are now engaged in a public display of affection that Colet, well, much hates. She doesn’t like it, but she tolerates it because these are her friends. Besties for life.
Colet laughs to herself, head still bobbing as she diverts her gaze to scan the place. It’s full packed, something she’d expected for a Friday night - bodies bumped against each other as they try to show their dance moves on the dance floor. She cringes a little at a small group of boys shouting and jumping as if they own the place for obvious reasons; trying to get the girls' attentions. Pathetic, Colet thinks. The crowd gets hyped up again when a very familiar song echoes in the place. It's a tune she can’t seem to put a finger on at first but she’s sure she knows it by heart. It’s a remix, and maybe that’s the reason why she didn’t recognize her favorite song playing.
We were in the backseat, drunk on something stronger than the drinks in the bar
Colet thinks it sounds so... forced, out of place even. But people don’t seem to mind as they continue partying to a remix that sounds so robotic.
She's drunk, and Colet knows that as a fact, but boredom got the better of her so she downs another shot of Tequila, the liquid burning her throat. Then another, and another until the place feels like it's caving in on her, suffocating her in a euphoric way. The alcohol effectively washing away the stress of the day.
“I rent a place on Cornelia Street”, I say casually in the car
Colet's gaze lands on a pair of doe-like eyes in the bar. She shakes her head lightly, trying to shrug off the intoxication that's now settling in. But her legs seem to have a life of their own as she finds herself standing in front of a very beautiful girl; her hair flowing effortlessly like silk, framing her face that's perfectly sculptured by the gods, and her eyes—Colet’s breath hitches like all the alcohol had been drained out of her system. Oh, god, those eyes.
Colet smiles sheepishly before taking the empty bar stool just beside the girl, uninvited. Alcohol really does wonders and she mentally pats her introverted self.
“Hi,” she says lightly but loud enough to be heard over the music, her eyes obviously glazed with alcohol.
The girl raises one brow, curious but kind, before returning the smile - warm and soft like clouds on a perfect afternoon. Colet swears she sees colors bursting out in the background, the crowd blurring and the song long forgotten. Or maybe it's just the alcohol.
“Hi,” the girl answers. “Feeling out of place?” she adds, nodding towards Colet's companions who, for the love of God, are still at it.
Colet looks back at their table, shaking her head with a smile. “Yeah,” she says.
“Same,” the girl says again, pointing a thumb at her friends who were dancing on the dance floor but Colet could barely see the ‘friends’ she’s pointing at.
Colet stares at the girl. Despite her dizziness, she could still make out her new companion’s face. She is beautiful—no, scratch that, that doesn't even start to describe the girl. She is ethereal, an out of this world beauty. Colet’s gaze lingers a little, taking note of the cute little mole that sits just above the girl’s slightly curled lips.
“So...” the girl trails off. “Are you gonna introduce yourself,” she snickers at this, her own voice evidently laced with alcohol but definitely more sober than Colet. “Or are you just gonna stare?”
This pulls Colet back and she offers the girl her most innocent smile, or at least she tries. “I’m Colet,” she says extending her hand. “Ma. Nicolette Vergara. That’s spelled Ma and a dot but it's pronounced Maria.” Colet blabbers on.
The girl laughs, throwing her head back a little as if she’s just heard the funniest joke. “Aren't you a cutie,” she comments, her grin lingering.
“Jhoanna,” the girl, now finally with a name, says before taking Colet’s hand.
Colet shivers internally at the electrifying touch, albeit for a short time. Jhoanna’s touch is light, her hand smooth and soft and Colet wishes she could hold it a little more longer—or maybe it’s just the alcohol. But god, Jhoanna make her feel things just by looking at the girl.