It was a weird thing with her, something that seemed rooted in masochist tendencies, the urge to get herself hurt over and over again. Being into straight girls had become her own thing, her trademark.

Almost every time she had an interest in someone, that someone turned out to not even be into girls. That didn't stop Vi from getting any, of course not, but... yeah, the girls she really wanted never gave her a second look.

That's how she met you, a person that she was only interested in at first, and then your relationship turned into something of a friendship. You weren't her closest friend, and she wasn't yours, but you hung out a lot and spent most of your week days together after work. You enjoyed each other's company.

But Vi's favorite thing about you wasn't your sense of humor, the way you always seemed to know what she was about to say, or how you liked any of the weird food combinations she made. Her favorite thing about you was the way you got when you were drunk.

Giggly, flirty, and a hot mess. You'd touch her almost everywhere, sit so close your shoulders pressed hard against each other's, run your fingers through her hair, play with her earrings, and fix her chains like that wasn't the most provocative thing ever.

Of course, she'd never take advantage of you, ever. But, still, that was like having a little taste of what you two could be like (while sober) if you weren't fucking straight.

"How did it go with your counselor?" She asked, a beer bottle in one of her hands, while she let you play with the other, gently brushing the pads of your fingers in between hers, tracing her knuckles, squeezing her wrist. Pure torture. She leaned against the couch, her head tipped back, resting on the cushions as she soaked on the tingly feeling of your touch.