Dinah's POV :
My body is heavier than usual as I rise from bed. The sun beaming through my open shades causes me to recoil like a vampire. Maybe that's what I thought I was last night when I was sucking on Laurels face. I'm left dumbfounded that I would kiss her and just retreat into my room. It wasn't a small peck either, it was a full blown Olicity type kiss.
Blame it on the alcohol, because I just couldn't contain the urge this time around. It gets harder every time she shows her sweeter more considerate side. She becomes easier to kiss the longer she sticks around, at least that's what I continue to tell myself. My mind flashes to what could have been and my body begins to get hot. I quickly strip off my clothes and jump into the shower.
I'd mentally prepared myself to start clean while I was in the shower, but find a spotless living room when I get downstairs. The aroma of freshly made pancakes drifts through the air. Laurel is already awake and standing in the kitchen making freshly squeezed orange juice. She pours some into a glass when she see me, then sets it out next to the plate of cinnamon pancakes with a side of fruit salad.
"What's all this?" I ask, -I slide into the stool in front of my mini feast - "you're up early."
"I couldn't sleep. That's not true... I could bu-" she pauses, mid egg scramble.
"But..." I say. Secretly hoping it isn't because of what I did last night.
"- nothing, just bad dreams," she says, flippantly. She stays uncharacteristically quiet as she slides the eggs onto a separate plate. I raise my head in her direction every so often, curious to know whether she's going to mention that kiss. Her minds appears to be somewhere else even as she continues to cook, then tidy up.
I begin to wonder if she even remembers. She was really drunk, but not too drunk to kiss me back I recall as I stare at her mouth. "Why are you staring at me?" she asks. Her voice breaks my trance.
"I was just checking to see if your lip was okay after you bumped it on the counter," I answer. My response comes out so clean that even I think it the truth.
"Honestly I'm more concerned with the gash in my side than this lip contusion," she says. I breathe a sigh of relief and praise my quick wit. "For a second I thought you were wondering if you really kissed me last night, or if it was a dream," she adds.
A sharp pressure pushes against my chest as she stares straight into my eyes. My face gets hot as I try to think up another excuse. Air starts to leave my lips but there's no sound. "I ya -" I start, but stutter out the gate.
"It was very real," she says.
"Laurel, I'm so sorr-"
"No need to apologize," she interrupts. "If you were even half as drunk as me, I'd expect you to have been making out with that plant over there." She points at the plant in the corner of the apartment.
I laugh off the comment. "Thanks for not rubbing it in. I was really out of it," I say.
"Just forget it," she says, as she sits down at the stool beside me. She nibbles at the eggs on her plate but doesn't bother to touch the rest of her food. Every few seconds she rubs her eyes, then takes a swig of her coffee.
"You wanna talk about this dream?" I ask. I'd talk about anything in order to break the silence.
"You know, same ol' subconscious mind of a killer," she says, playfully, "There's always something for a guilty conscious to mull over."
I stare at until she takes notice, "You're not a killer anymore," I remind her.
She drops her fork onto the plate. "You can't possible be that naive," she says, anger seething with every word. "You of all people should know, once a killer, always a killer."
"Well, I choose to believe people can change. You di-"
"What?!" she interrupts, "I've changed, how could you possible know?"
"Because if you hadn't we wouldn't be here!" I snap.
"Maybe we shouldn't be here because this relationship makes no sense."
My stomach contract and my nerves quake underneath my skin. I glare at her angrily. She's well aware what she's saying, it's why she refuse to look up from her plate. Its as though her emotional intelligence is restricted to making me feel foolish.
"It's too early for this," I contend. I stand up from my seat then make my way to the exit. I step onto the elevator and turn toward her. "You can stay here and wallow alone. I have a business to run," I say.
It's half pass twelve when I peek up at the clock and glance over at the elevator. That makes it about the tenth time so far today. Laurel still hasn't made her appearance yet, and it's starting to bother me. I didn't mean for her to actually spend the entire day wallowing. Of course this would be the one time she decides to listens to me.
"Boss, table seven is still waiting on their mozzarella sticks and dip," the voice pulls me out my trance. Riley is staring at me awaiting a response. I'm lucky she showed up with the other canaries for the lunch rush.
"Go to the back and ask Dom if they're ready," I say. I make my way to the front of the bar and start wiping down the bar stools, "and if there not ready offer them some free wings. They've been waiting a while," I tell her. A gentle set of hands grabs me from behind and caresses my waist.
"I'm sorry, you're right" a soft voice whispers. Her fragrance touches my nose before my eyes even make contact with her green eyes.
I involuntarily shiver as her hands slide off my hips. "I'm always right," I exhale.
She sits in the stool next to me with an annoyed expression on her face. I purposely ignore her to continue cleaning. Her hand glides onto the back of mines sending me into a state of paralysis. My hand instinctively turns over and the cloth transfers from my palm into hers. She nudges me with her hip and I return to my place behind the bar.
"After all the wallowing and cleaning I'm gonna nee-" I push a plate of burger and fries in front of her before she finishes her sentence. "-be still my heart. All I need no-" I push a vanilla shake in her direction. Her face turns a light shade of red as she fights back her grin. She avoids eye contact by popping some fries into her mouth.
The food is so appealing I reach out to grab some fries and our hands collide. I draw away at a lightning speed. "So we don't ask anymore," she says, while leaning over the bar, "we must be at the taking stage of our friendship." My face gets hot at what I take as an unintentional innuendo.
I take a spud from her plate and dip it into her shake before eating it. "Way pass the asking stage," I whisper.
A voice breaks through the intense silence, "I can't believe you two used to hate each other." It's one of the girls, who has apparently been practicing a stealthy approach.
"Used to..." Laurel responds.
The girl chuckles lightly. "I just can't imagine becoming friends with someone I watched kill my fiancee," she says, "I had a friend steal from me and I still can't tal-"
"Shut up Perrie." Riley interrupts. She takes the blonde by the arm and drags her away, leaving us in awkward silence. Laurel's head is buried in her chest while my eyes wonder the bar aimlessly. Perrie may be unable to pick up on social cues, but because she is a casual observer we can't hide from her perspective.
A pang of guilt hits suddenly and it hits me hard. We never talk about it, perhaps because I don't want to relive it. I won't presume to know how Laurel might feel and it scares me to ask. Mutual avoidance is best for us and probably our relationship. My liquor distributor enters the bar and I'm thankful for the reprieve.
"Time to restock after last night," I tell her, before making my way over to the vendor. I can sense she's holding back as I walk away, but I don't give her the chance to speak her mind. A voice urges me to turn back, but I refuse to display my inner turmoil. I greet the vendor then lead him to an empty booth to go over business.
He's talking a lot but my mind is stuck on memories I've long tried to bury. They've had a sudden re-emergence and are unrelenting. I glance at Laurel to remind myself that she's not that person anymore. She would never hurt me like that again because I mean more to her now. The girls standing with her now and joking mean something to her.
"So Dinah, when can I take you out again?" he asks. I shoot my eyes back to him.
"Marc, I told you the first time. That was a one time deal" -I stand up from the booth- "I gotta get back to work, I'll see you next month," I say. He grabs my hand and pulls my body close to his. "What are you doing?" I sigh. I try to remove his arm from around my waist but he just pulls me closer.
"Don't be like that," he says, "we had a good time didn't we?"
"We did, but it was a one time thing not a whenever type thing," I smile and remove his hand. I distance myself but he manages to grab onto my back pocket. He pulls me back toward him, knocking an empty glass onto the floor and shattering it.
Laurel springs up from nowhere and snatches his hand out of my pocket. She twists his arm and slams his upper body into the table. The ruckus gets the attention of my customers. It happens too quickly for me to process. He wiggles free from her grip then launches himself at her. She pivots and he falls onto the guest at a neighboring table.
Riley and Perrie swoop Marc to his feet and I grab hold of Laurel. "What the hell are you doing?!" I snap.
"He had his hands all over you," she says, with a confused look on her face.
"Yeah I did you crazy bitch, and it wouldn't be the first time," he tells her.
Laurel jolts toward him but fortunately I still have hold of her. "Leave now," I tell him. The girls escort him outside as I drag Laurel into the back office. "Girls, can you please clean up this mess?" I ask.
I slam the door shut and turn to find Laurel leaning against my desk. "You can't seriously be mad at me?" she asks. Her arms are fold over her chest. "You should really be upset about your poor taste."
"What am I gonna do with you?" I sigh. I lean with my back on the door and I bury my face in my hands."You can't keep doing this," I say, looking up from my hands and staring directly into her eyes.
She comes toward me. "How is this my fault?" she asks, "the guy couldn't keep his hands to himself," she argues.
I lift off the door, "I'm a grown woman who can take care of myself," I reply.
"I know you can!" she exclaims, then her tone softens, "but that's not it."
There's a timidity in her voice that lures me in. "So what is it? Tell me..." I ask.
She looks through me, "I just didn't like it," she says in a deflated tone.
She doesn't realize that her eyes reflect what she tries to leave unspoken. It's not out of character for her; but whereas I use to find it mildly annoying, I now find it unbearable. I want to know what's going on in her head, but at the same time, I feel uneasy for caring so much. It's these mixed emotions that keep me awake at night. "You can't lose control whenever you don't like something," I tell her.
"Well had I known you were sleeping with the douchebag I wouldn't have bothered," she says. I wave off the petty comment then turn to leave. "Fuck!" she shouts. She swiftly presses her hand against the door to keep it closed.
"Let go of the door," I demand.
"No- not if it means letting you leave angry," she says. She's close enough that I can feel the zipper of her jacket on my back. "I shouldn't have said that," she continues.
I don't look at her and keep my eyes on the door knob. "You said exactly what you meant. Let me out," I demand. I pull the door open and she shuts it.
"I can't, you keep walking out on me," she says, slowly spinning me around, "and I feel like it increases the chance you decide not to come back."
This is the most vulnerable she's ever been with me. I'm flattered that my presence could affect her so deeply. I allow my eyes to meet hers and she falters in our contact. She lets go of my hand, taking with her all the energy that I'd gotten from her words. "Why Laurel, I never knew you cared," I joke.
That breaks through the tension and she pulls away from me."Maybe we better get back out there. The girls get antsy when left alone too long," she says. She opens the door and kisses me on the cheek. "I hope you'll accept that as payment for the damages," she says.