what if theyre wine drunk on our around her bday, maybe coincidentally or maybe not, with very outdated music or an objectively bad movie she loves
itâs nine pm on her birthday âž» what? sheâs a mom now . . . and a doctor. she goes to bed at eight most weeknights.  but iâm a cheerleader plays in the background, and it is about the tenth time sheâs made eddie watch it with her since they actually started calling themselves friends. thatâs not her fault, either -- itâs one of very few romcoms that doesnât actively remind her of the big three ( what sheâs started calling bruce, ivy, and jack in her head to make herself feel a little bit better about it. )Â
the kids are with leslie ( her favorite person in the universe right now, other than eddie ), and harleyâs more than a little wine drunk. sheâs sprawled across eddieâs lap, blanket twisted around her in a way thatâs going to take more than a little effort to untangle later. the only parts of her that peek out from the blanket are her face and a singular hand, which is occupied with her wine glass.
is this their second bottle? third? harley squints at the kitchen, counts four. no wonder her head feels so fuzzy -- ivy may have made her immune to most toxins, but it doesnât take the edge off completely. Â
the ache she feels for bruce & jack is still present, whispering softly in every heartbeat. itâs never going to go away, but sheâs learning to make her peace with it. this year, she doesnât hate herself for being happy. doesnât hate herself for laughing at eddieâs jokes, for staring a little dreamily at the tv.Â
is it so bad that she wants to have that, again? a love worth losing everything for? she misses feeling that alive. Â
( tomorrow, when sheâs sober, sheâll remember that she doesnât truly want that. sheâll remember that she has lost everything, remember how hard it was to claw her way back. )Â
the credits roll and harley sits up ( somehow not spilling a single drop of wine ), poking her other hand out of the blanket so she can pick up the remote.Â
â another one? â she asks, turning to look at eddie. â iâll stay up late for you tonight, mr. nashton. â
he teases her, tells her only if she picks something less horrible than the last one, suggests she expand her horizons and watch something she hasnât seen before. sheâs drunk enough that it just makes her giggle, bumping her forehead against eddieâs as she puts her face close to his to emphasize her point.
but the point never comes, because eddieâs really close, and harleyâs just drunk enough that she doesnât think for a single second before she moves to close the gap between them. her lips press to his, a little awkward, a little out of practice. by the time her brain catches up, sheâs got a hand tangled in his hair & is giving him one of the kisses she used to be known for. itâs nice to have someone this close, especially someone she trusts, so she gives herself a few seconds longer before she pulls away.Â
sheâd have let this ruin them when she was younger. harleyâs always been an all or nothing kind of girl. neither rejection nor encouragement would have changed the ending -- sheâd have let either drive a wedge between them, never to be removed.Â
now, she just presses a hand to eddieâs cheek, then smiles.Â
â that was the first time iâve kissed anybody in three years, â she admits, cheeks flushing as red as the wine in their glasses. â please donât tell anyone i said that. iâve got a reputation to uphold. â