It's a confusing time for her as she sits at the bar with a glass of red wine.

She's met someone. Someone she could only describe as her soulmate. Someone she feels a deep connection too and she feels she loves them. She wants them to be happy, even if it means she'll be unhappy for the rest of her life.

There's only one problem though. The person she's fallen in love with is another woman.

She'd never gone through the confusion in her teenage years of what sexuality she was. After all, she was Carla Connor. Sweet, caring Carla who always fluttered her eyelashes, twirled her hair around her finger and made the boys fall hard.

It never crossed her mind she might fancy somebody who was the same sex as her. But after a handful of failed marriages, failed relationships and a rape attack; it was no surprise that she found herself losing all respect for men. Still, she never thought she'd fancy another woman.

She wasn't gay, right?

/

She's sat at the bar, her left hand on her wine glass, her eyes staring at the red liquid inside the glass. She's completely lost in thought, not paying attention to her surroundings. She gently swirls the liquid around the glass and sighs.

The term for somebody like her is a recovering alcoholic but she's certainly not recovering. She still finds all her answers at the bottom of a bottle or in this case, the bottle of a wine glass. However, she knows exactly why she came to this bar tonight.

Tomorrow is the day she dreads. Tomorrow is six months since her husband-to-be raped her.

She necks the red liquid in one, pushes the glass across the bar and asks the barmaid for another. She fumbles in her jean pocket for the change and slides that across the bar as the barmaid hands her her drink.

And in a second it's disappeared down her neck.

It's pretty crap to think that over six months ago, she was in a happy place. Well, not necessarily a happy place just a place that was better where she was today. She twirled her finger along the rim of the glass once again becoming lost in thought.

"Can I buy you another?" A voice interrupts her thoughts and she looks up. Stood beside her is a blonde woman roughly the same age as herself. Out of respect, she nods although she really would like to be alone.

The woman leans over the bar and tells the barmaid she'll have two red wines. She doesn't make eye contact for a minute or two as she finds the change and gives it to the barmaid. Then, she hands a wine glass to Carla.

"Thanks." Carla whispers as she pushes her empty glass away and stares into the full glass of wine.

"Your welcome." The woman replies and Carla looks up. As they make eye contact, the first thing she notices is how nice her eyes are. She smiles softly and opens her mouth to speak before the woman beats her to it.

"What's your name?"

Swallowing, Carla answers; "Carla, you?"

"Roisin. Nice to meet you."

"You too." She answers back and smiles. She picks up the wine glass with her left hand and takes a sip before speaking again; "I don't usually chat people up."

Roisin laughed and Carla noticed how her eyes sparkled as she did. She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and replied; "Neither do I. You looked lonely."

"Make a habit of talking to strangers?" Carla asked with a smile as she drank from her wine glass again. All Roisin did was nod, swallow the mouthful of wine she had in her mouth and answer back;

"Of course. It's dangerous." And in response, Carla sighed.

/

At the end of a lovely evening, too much alcohol and perhaps a heart-to-heart with a stranger, Carla decided that it was getting late. She stood up from the bar, found the room spinning and Roisin put a hand on her arm to steady her.

"You alright?" She asked.

Carla didn't verbally respond, only nodded her head to indicate she was fine. She was about to say it was nice to meet her, knowing that she'd never see her again when Roisin took her hand in hers, took out a black pen and began to scribble twelve digits on her hand.

"Call me." She told her, winked at her and then planted a soft kiss on her lips.

And Carla didn't retaliate perhaps through shock that the woman she had barely known for an hour was kissing her. However, her kiss had an effect on her body. Her stomach tightened, her heart started to beat faster and she thought about how sweet her lips tasted.

When she walked away and left Carla to think about what had happened, only one thing flashed through her mind; "Fuck."

/

A week later, she called her. Roisin's number had now become pinned to the fridge on a piece of scrap paper. She was nervous as hell, pacing the living room as the phone rang and she hoped it wouldn't go through to answerphone.

When Roisin did answer, all she said was; "I need to see you."

Roisin gave her, her address and she typed it into her SatNav, grateful that it wasn't too far away. When she arrived outside the house, she parked her car and walked up to the front door. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door and instinctively stepped back.

She answered the front door in a cream dressing gown, her blonde locks wet and she smiled, "Hi."

"Hi." She answered back and stepped aside to welcome her into the house. Carla walked in and Roisin closed the door behind her. As she turned back around to talk, Carla pinned her up against the door, her hands on her waist and her lips on her own.

And Roisin smelt of strawberries and her lips tasted of coffee and Carla didn't care whether she was straight, bisexual or gay. Because in that moment of time, the only thing that seemed right were her lips on Roisin's.

Everything else could wait.

.

a/n: if you like it enough to favourite, please review.
do not ask how i got the idea for Carla/Roisin; i really am weird like that :3