Me and the Bad Bitch I Pulled by Being Drunk

Originally written on March 21, 2021

​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​The corner of her mouth quirks, the beginnings of a smile poised gracefully between amused and razor sharp. “What makes you think you’re remotely in my league?”

​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​Fiore thinks about it, albeit sluggishly. “Three beers, and a lot of hope.”

​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​“That is quite a few beers.” The woman’s smile slowly starts to spread into something more concrete.

​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​“It is.” Fiore gulps desperately to quell the burp-like sound that wells up in her throat. “I wouldn’t mind if you made it a few more.”

​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​There’s a dead pause. Then the woman’s eyes widen in incredulity, and she giggles, and Fiore’s de-facto priority immediately becomes to make her do it again.

​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​“You came here to flirt and now you’re asking me for a drink.”

​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​“..yes.”

​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​“You’re plastered.”

​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​“Yes. You can make it shit-faced, for the low price of $3.99.”

​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​​ ​ ​​The woman giggles again, and Fiore melts a little at the sight. Somewhere in the back of her head, buried thoroughly in a haze of alcohol, a semi-rational version of herself gives a little fist pump.