The right side of the bed was cold—unusually cold. The type of cold that told Paloma, once she finally gathered the strength to lift her heavy eyelids, that she had slept alone the night before. The feeling of the chilly, ruffled sheets beneath her fingertips is what made her pry her eyes open in the first place but it wasn't until she looked up that she realized that, unlike the previous night, she wasn't alone in the bedroom.

Her gaze settled on the two ibuprofen tablets that rested in the palm of Ava's hand. She sat up and relieved the woman of the medication then tossed the pills into her mouth. She then gave Ava the warmest smile that one with a hangover could conjure up because her girlfriend always seemed to know just what she needed.

Although her perception wasn't as needle-sharp as usual, Paloma sensed Ava's stable demeanor. She figured the woman, unlike herself, must've gotten over her hangover fairly quickly. The brunette was happy for her, though a tad bit jealous. Ava had always been more successful at retaining her alcohol and she was even better at recovering from it.

Paloma's voice was rough and husky when she spoke, "Hey, baby. I'm glad to see that at least one of us beat the hangover before noon."

Ava took in a strained breath and attempted to maintain the peaceful quiet the home had adopted that Sunday evening. Not only that, but she really didn't want to disturb Quinn, who was also in the house, any further than Paloma had the night before. But once she recalled Paloma's slurred declaration, she started to doubt that that could ever be done.

Her nose crinkled in displeasure like it had been doing for nearly the last twenty-four hours when the stench of alcohol, that Paloma still reeked of, seeped its way into her nostrils.

"It's nowhere near noon," Ava deadpanned. "And don't 'hey, baby' me."

Paloma's eyes widened for a second before returning to their natural state. If she had learned anything from dating Ava, it was that the redhead thrived on Paloma's verbal forms of affection, so her striking it down was unusual, to say the least.

"Okay," Paloma drawled. "Hey...honey?" she tried again, testing the waters with a modest laugh.

Ava didn't bite, instead, she rolled her eyes at the brunette's lackadaisical demeanor, Paloma's smirk making it infinitely more difficult to hold back her anger.

Somehow, in spite of the fog that clouded her thoughts, Paloma could tell by Ava's tensed jaw that she wasn't having any of her playful antics. Even so, she still hadn't anticipated the words the redhead said next.

"Do you have a drinking problem?"

"What?" Paloma snorted at the ridiculousness of the curt query. She only dignified the question with a response when she realized Ava expected one. "No. Of course not."

The redhead crossed her arms over her chest and lifted an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

"Yeah, Ava." She frowned, wondering where the woman was going with the question. "I'm sure." When Ava scoffed, Paloma let out a wry laugh, "Were you hoping I'd say yes?"

"Well, yeah, because honestly, I could accept that more than you choosing to get unbelievably wasted on my birthday. I was supposed to be able to do that and you were supposed to take care of me, not the other way around. But you were only thinking about yourself last night."

Paloma drew her bottom lip into her mouth at the sound of Ava's hissed contention, not knowing what else to say. She couldn't remember much but now that Ava brought up the previous night, she could faintly recall a few events—the drinks being the most memorable. Still, she couldn't exactly surmise why Ava would pose the question. After all, neither of them attend a club entitled Tequila Mockingbird with the intention of staying sober.

Nevertheless, Paloma recalled not exactly feeling all that in control the night before. She never considered she had a drinking problem but she had to admit, on paper, that's exactly what it was starting to resemble. Even so, Paloma wasn't as quick to judge a book by its cover, so to speak, as Ava was.

The brunette shrugged her shoulders, making a point not to meet Ava's gaze. "So I enjoyed a few more drinks than usual during your birthday. We were celebrating." Paloma smiled impishly when Ava's nose flared. "Dirty thirty...remember?"

She only offered an alternative response when a small crease formed in the center of Ava's forehead—a tell-tale sign that she had reached her limit for Paloma's comical responses.

"I've just been under a lot of stress lately," Paloma reasoned. Her subtle wince went unnoticed by Ava when she realized the contention was more for herself than her girlfriend.

"And that's your excuse?" Ava demanded. "That's how you fix it?"

"No, I was just having fun," came Paloma's immediate retort. "But you're right, I shouldn't have acted like that." Not that she could remember exactly how she was acting. "I stole the spotlight and acted like a bitch, I'm sure." She looked into Ava's eyes, chasing away every ounce of frivolousness as she took Ava's hands into her own in efforts to prove her sincerity. "I'm sorry."

She breathed a gentle sigh of relief once Ava's hardened gaze finally softened. To Paloma's surprise, the woman stroked her hand back, signaling that she wasn't as angry as she let on. However, this was short-lived when Paloma offered a follow-up question.

"Did you have fun at all last night?"

Ava's eyes returned to their narrowed state as her jaw tensed impossibly tighter. She unraveled their interlaced fingers and backed away from the brunette. "How could I? I was too busy keeping tabs on you."

"Shit." Paloma buried her face in her hands, her chocolate-colored hair spilling forward and tickling her forearms. She then groaned and mumbled a muffled, "I'm sorry."

Her eyes only returned to Ava's once the endless possibilities of events that could've occurred the previous night alerted her.

"Wait, I didn't do anything embarrassing, right?" She grimaced. "Like...flash my tits or something?"

Paloma shut her eyes in preparation for Ava's critical reply once the redhead let out a dry chuckle, "Not so much embarrassing for you as it was humiliating for me."

The brunette slowly pried her eyelids open, peaking at Ava. "...Is that a yes or a no?"

"One name," was Ava's simple counter. "Warren."

Paloma massaged her temples, attempting to not only soothe her headache but also bring her memories to fruition. Had it been a good year and a half prior, the mention of the name would've told her that she could add the individual to an embarrassingly long list of one night stands but even she knew that she wouldn't be insipid enough to do such a thing to her girlfriend, no matter how drunk she was.

Besides, had she committed such a heinous act, on Ava's birthday nonetheless, she was certain she'd be currently lying on a table in the coroner's office instead of in her bed. Nevertheless, Paloma knew that the fact that Ava had steered the conversation in that direction told her that she was far from being under the radar.

The brunette swallowed thickly then bit the bullet, "Warren?"

"Our friend, Paloma." Ava's raised voice didn't go unnoticed by the woman in question. "Warren Richards. You know who the hell I'm talking about."

Paloma couldn't help but squirm under Ava's gaze. She coiled her fingers around the poor curls that made up her dark-brown hair as she blew out a small huff of air. "I was hoping you were referring to a different Warren," she muttered.

"So..." Ava coaxed, her patience wearing incredibly thin.

"What about him?" Paloma wore a sheepish smile and waited for Ava to elaborate, hoping she wouldn't have to spill the beans entirely.

Ava played along, knowing she wouldn't get anywhere with Paloma otherwise. She sported a cheeky smile and shrugged her shoulders. "Anything you wanna run by me?"

Ava's sarcastic grin made Paloma recoil further into herself. She furrowed her eyebrows as if she was searching for a response but ended up giving the woman a simple, "Nope. Not that I can think of."

At this, the small, vertical crease returned to the center of Ava's forehead. She no longer had the patience to feed Paloma's antics.

"I know you got hammered last night, believe me, unfortunately, I was there but did the alcohol pound the memories out of your brain or something?"

Ava only continued when Paloma failed to offer a response, "You two screwed apparently. Does that ring a bell?"

Paloma stalled by toying with the light-blue purity ring that clung to her right ring finger. The jewelry served as a gift from her parents, a gesture the couple hoped would urge the brunette, who had been sixteen at the time, to live up to the status of the ring. She had never agreed with it but she'd be lying if she said she hadn't appreciated the exquisite cut as well as her parents' expensive taste.

Besides, it served as the one thing, aside from her sister, that linked her to her parents, so she wore the purity ring and never took it off. On occasion she'd laugh at the irony of it, this time, however, wasn't one of those times.

The woman took in a small breath and met Ava's fierce, green eyes. "That happened forever ago. It's been two years. At least," she added.

Ava nodded her head but Paloma could tell it wasn't in understanding.

And she was right.

"Neither of you told anyone? None of our other friends or—" The mahogany-haired woman's nose flared for the millionth time that day. "Me? I get that it was before we were together but the fact that this has been a massive secret the two of you shared makes me wonder. I mean, pretty much every time you and I don't go out alone we're with him. I consider him one of my best friends and now I feel like such a fucking idiot!"

Although Paloma enjoyed warren's company at the time, if she could turn back the hands of time and stop their sexual encounters before they ever occurred, she would. The second their short-lived romantic life dissipated and evolved into a friendship, Paloma decided that informing their friends, or anyone else for that matter, of what occurred between them was not only unnecessary but would possibly lead to unwarranted awkwardness—something they were both keen on avoiding.

"It only happened a few times and we weren't even officially together," Paloma reasoned. "We didn't wanna make things weird. Announcing it would've made it real and neither of us wanted that. As a matter fact, I completely forgot it happened. He probably did too."

Paloma pulled her legs from beneath the covers and approached Ava who backed away in response. The younger woman refrained from reaching out to her, knowing she would reject her touch. "Look," she started gently, "if it's a jealousy thing, I only like him as a friend. I don't miss what he and I did before."

"It's not...a jealousy thing." Despite—or perhaps because of—Ava's seething affirmation, she failed to convince herself let alone Paloma. "I just don't know what the hell to think. After all this time, you didn't tell me. Even when we were just friends, best friends, you didn't say shit."

"That's because at the time I didn't consider you my best friend. You were my best office friend, you know? I didn't think I owed you that or that it was an expectation." Paloma quickly shook her head and attempted to backtrack once Ava's expression grew angrier. "Then, you became my best friend and by that time it was old news, not even worth mentioning."

"Well, it seemed pretty worth mentioning last night. And more importantly, it seemed like you missed it last night...missed him."

Ava looked her up and down, halfway expecting Paloma to strike down her contention. However, when the younger woman finally parted her lips to speak, Ava cut her off.

"You were all over him!" the redhead barked. "Despite him constantly turning you down and informing you that your girlfriend was right fucking there!"

Paloma flinched at Ava's shrill voice but remained silent, not knowing what to say. She lowered her gaze, settling her eyes on the space between them. The brunette could feel the heat creeping up her neck and face, she knew that she'd never be able to face their friends again, even if Ava didn't kill her.

Paloma knew Ava was fairly insecure with the fact that, unlike herself, her attraction wasn't just limited to girls. The redhead would never admit it but Paloma was far from oblivious to Ava feeling as though she was in constant competition with both women and men.

Between Paloma's reassurance and the fact that Ava was the one who had to fight off the highest number of suitors pretty much every time they went out, the younger woman simply couldn't understand Ava's insecurities. This situation, however, didn't exactly help to ease the redhead's anxiety.

"Baby—"

"I told you not to call me that," was Ava's not so gentle reminder.

Paloma slightly raised her hands up in surrender. "Okay," she whispered. "I don't even know what else to say other than I'm unbelievably sorry and I was just...drunk. Insanely, unacceptably, disgustingly drunk. I know what I said and what I did hurt you immensely, I can see that, and even though I'd kill myself before I'd do anything to intentionally hurt or disrespect you, I did. I get that and I'm really sorry but there was no truth to what I was doing or what I said last night. I'll be the first to fess up to what you and I both already know. Unfortunately, I have a bad habit of getting extremely, to put it bluntly, horny and slutty when I'm wasted."

"Just when you're wasted?" Ava muttered.

"Okay...whoa," Paloma let out a dry chuckle. "Let's not open up that can of worms."

"You mean don't call you out on your shit?" was the mahogany-haired woman's fierce counter.

"No." Paloma frowned. "I mean let's not go there," she explained, trying to ward off Ava's attempt to add fuel to the already flaming fire and calm herself all at the same time. "Get nasty and cruel with each other. We both know how fast that can happen."

Ava tensed her jaw yet again but heeded Paloma's request nonetheless.

"And I'd really appreciate it if you didn't talk down to me or reprimand me like I'm a child," Paloma gently added. "I know I screwed up big time but, as tempting as it may be, we can't stop treating one another with respect whenever we get pissed."

"Oh, so now you're all about respect? Where was this 'respect' last night?" Ava spit back.

Paloma massaged her temples once more. She knew her girlfriend had every right to be mad but she had to admit, she was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her own anger at bay as well.

Nevertheless, Paloma knew Ava like the back of her hand and, between the woman's red nose with the eyes to match, she could see that her lash out was the result of her own pain as opposed to her desire to hurt her.

"Look, I can't fix what I did last night," Paloma calmly resumed, "I can only make a conscious decision to do better in the future. But, I can promise you, the whole Warren thing was just the alcohol bringing up old feelings. I'm in no way attracted to him. Not in the least, not anymore."

Ava finally looked up, the placidity present in Paloma's voice encouraging her to do so. "How the hell am I supposed to believe that?"

"Because...I was single when he and I were hooking up and so was he. We could've dated and progressed and ended up where you and I are right now but we didn't. You know why?" The brunette didn't wait for a response before she continued, "Not because I couldn't have him but because I was saving myself for someone better. Okay? And now that that better is here, I'm sure as hell not gonna mess it up for some one-time screw."

Paloma's lips curved upwards into a smirk. "Besides, I don't know why I was throwing myself at him. Between me and you...you're a hell of a lot better in bed than he is."

To Paloma's surprise, Ava matched her expression. "You bet your ass I am." After a few moments, her smug look dissipated. The woman was far from over the tense dilemma but she had to admit, Paloma did ease her nerves for the most part. She motioned towards the door, not knowing what else to say about the situation. "Okay...well, I'm gonna go finish up with dinner."

"Dinner?" Paloma frowned. "What time is it?"

"Almost five."

"Pm?" the brunette screeched.

The right alcoholic concoction—which typically consisted of a fair amount of whiskey, vodka, or tequila—always managed to put Paloma in a miniature coma, even so, she hadn't expected to be out of it for such an extensive period of time.

"That's what happens when you get as hammered as you did. I don't know if you noticed but I slept in the guest bedroom last night and if I had the energy to carry you down a flight of stairs, it would've been you instead of me."

Paloma instantly picked up on Ava's loaded contention, still, to her relief, the woman's eyes no longer had that fierce glare about them.

"Of course I noticed," she assured. "I'm sorry." To Paloma's dismay, she found that she was saying those two words to the woman she loved more often than she'd hoped. "I know I royally fucked up last night so I get it if you need space. I'll stay outta your hair and I'll even...take the guest bedroom at night until you can stomach being around me again."

Paloma could feel her heart soar when Ava shook her head. "No, that's not what I want. As much of a jackass as you can be sometimes, for some psychotic reason, I love you and I don't exactly enjoy being away from you, so..."

The brunette forced herself to shut down the grin that nearly crept its way onto her lips and instead maintained her calm demeanor as she nodded her head in understanding.

"Well, I'll just have to make it up to you some other way."

Ava chuckled, "How?"

"...We'll go away next weekend. Just like you wanted. And it won't be like last night," Paloma quickly attested. "Last night will never happen again, I swear."

Ava inched forward, finally stepping into Paloma's vicinity. At the increased proximity, Paloma dared to place her hands on the other woman's hips. To her relief, instead of jerking away from her touch, Ava wrapped her arms around the brunette's neck.

"Seriously?"

"I'll have to figure some stuff out, make arrangements for Quinn but, yeah...seriously," Paloma affirmed. "I wanna make it up to you."

"Well, that's a good start. For me at least." Ava's relaxed demeanor dissolved at the mention of the teenager. She winced when she recalled the unsettling declaration that fell from Paloma's drunk lips the night before as well as the look of heartbreak and disbelief the girl wore when she made her abrupt leave. "It might take a tad bit more convincing for Quinn."

At this, Paloma knitted her eyebrows together and withdrew her hands from Ava's waist, instead, allowing them to retreat to her own.

"Shit," Paloma murmured. "What the hell else did I do?"

Paloma took her time in the shower. Not just because the warm water felt incredible against her skin but because she really needed the time to think. Once Ava brought it to her attention that her disruptive, drunken actions didn't cease at the club but also forced its way into their home, Paloma couldn't fathom a way to make things right with her sister.

It was partly because she wasn't exactly certain of what she said, having to rely solely on Ava's recollection, which stung in itself, but mostly because she could hardly believe she said the vicious words to the girl to start with.

When she finally descended the staircase, she hadn't expected to smile. Though Paloma wasn't anticipating to see Quinn at all that evening, figuring the teenager would much rather spend her day anywhere that wasn't within the same vicinity as herself, she found Quinn standing next to Ava, both wearing a warm smile as they tenderly wrapped some eggrolls.

Still, it was no surprise when the youngest redhead's smile disintegrated at the sight of her sister. Quinn only tore her humorless gaze from Paloma when Ava nudged her softly.

"I'll finish up here."

The teenager merely nodded her head before cleaning her hands on a nearby dishcloth and making a beeline for the stairs. To Paloma's pleasant surprise, she successfully stopped the girl before she ascended the staircase.

"I know you're pissed," Paloma cut in before Quinn could object. "You have every right to be but can I talk to you for a second? Please?"

Quinn's frown was heavy, even so, she threw Paloma a bone, "Five minutes."

Paloma nodded in compliance, accepting whatever the girl was willing to give her. Quinn followed the brunette into the dining room. When Paloma saw that the teenager wasn't planning to humor her by taking a seat, she decided to face her sister and cut to the chase.

"Ava told me how shitty I was being last night. In general," she elaborated. "But more specifically how shitty I was being towards you. All the things I said."

Quinn took in a sharp, audible breath, giving her thin patience a voice. "Your point?"

Paloma studied her intently. She couldn't say she was surprised at the redhead's nonchalant charade. Quinn was the only person in the world she knew that was better than herself at putting on a facade at a moment's notice. Whatever it took to hide her anguish. And that Sunday evening, the girl reminded Paloma of that.

"My point is, you didn't deserve that. What I said," she explained. "My getting drunk and lashing out had nothing at all to do with you, no matter what I said. I'm not sure exactly what that was but I guess I gotta do some soul searching," she muttered the last part to herself.

Quinn engaged, albeit tersely, "Okay."

The woman sank in defeat, knowing by Quinn's demeanor that things were far from it. "Okay?"

"What do you want me to say, Paloma?" she implored, her voice thick with exhaustion.

The brunette shrugged her shoulders because she wasn't exactly sure of what she wanted from the girl other than for things to be okay between them. "Something...anything, I guess."

Quinn nodded then kindly threw the woman another bone, "If that's what you believe, then yeah...okay."

Paloma treaded lightly, "If that's what I believe?"

"That what you said meant nothing. That you don't know where that came from or why you said it. If you truly believe that, then—"

The woman cut her off before she could bark 'okay' again, "Kiddo, I believe that because it's true. That's what I'm trying to say, there was no truth to the shit I said 'cuz it was just that—shit. I can be a massive dick when I'm drunk which is why I don't do it often, especially not around you."

"Drunk Paloma is a dick," Quinn agreed. "But drunk Paloma is also the real Paloma. The only version of you that I can get to tell me the truth, which is unfortunate because, as you said, you don't do it often."

The brunette in question visibly sank yet again, her heart dropping into the pit of her stomach.

"How could you think that?" she whispered.

"How could I not?" was the teenager's instant refute. "Well, that is when I can think at all."

"I told you, what I said was bullshit," Paloma pleaded, feeling her own wicked words working against her to build an even sturdier wall of insecurity around the girl.

"No," Quinn contended. "It wasn't. But do you know what it was? It was the part of you that you bury, the part that you don't want anyone to know about, the part you can't bring yourself to face because you feel like if you entertain the thoughts or, God forbid, voice them, then you come across as a complete asshole. And while that is true, I respect that version of you a hell of a lot more than what you portray because—" She gnawed on the inside of her cheek, failing to hold back her impending anger any longer. "At least that part of you has the common decency to tell her own sister the truth."

"That wasn't...the truth," Paloma enunciated. "How can I make you get that?"

"So...you don't feel like you're walking on eggshells whenever I'm around because I can't 'get an understanding of anything'?" Quinn tested. Her eyes narrowed because, really, she already had her answer.

Paloma couldn't help but wince at the harsh question. If it sounded this bad coming out of Quinn's mouth, she couldn't fathom how bad it was coming out of her own.

"No."

"And you don't feel like because I'm stuck this way, with how things are now, with how I am now, that you're stuck too? You don't wish the hospital could 'get me a new brain'?"

"Of course not!" Despite her yell, Paloma could sense the words were falling on deaf ears.

"Were we nearly out of money?" Quinn continued, ignoring her sister's loud contention. "About to be without lights and running water?"

Paloma steadied herself by settling one hand on the edge of the dinette table, the other resting on her hips while she refused to look up from the floor. Still, she told the girl what she wanted to hear, "No."

"God, you are such a liar!" Quinn's raised voice is what made Paloma finally look back up to meet her gaze. "You told me, remember? You promised that you'd say something before things got bad."

"I was taking care of it," the brunette hissed out of frustration but only at herself.

"Taking care—" Quinn scoffed. "How far were you gonna let it go, huh? Were you gonna wait to tell me once there was no more electricity, or showers, or food? Once we got evicted? When?" She threw her hands up in the air. "Or maybe never. Maybe you were relying on me not noticing because I couldn't comprehend what was going on."

"Stop," Paloma implored.

"You're so proud and egocentric," Quinn seethed. "You'd rather let things get outta hand then lie to my face about it than ask for actual help! I could've gotten a job but you wouldn't let me, we could've sold mom and dad's house but you wouldn't do that either. I mean, thank god you're screwing Ava or else we wouldn't have a place to lie our heads at night!"

"Watch your mouth!"

It wasn't long before both sisters found themselves staring daggers into one another's frigid, brown eyes. Though their obvious height difference had the power to intimidate Quinn in the past, this was not one of those times.

"Kid, I get that you're upset but that doesn't give you an excuse or a free pass to talk to me or about Ava like that. Got it?" Paloma lowered her voice substantially but her words held great conviction nonetheless, "Again, I'm sorry for what I said—"

"Again?" Quinn's laugh was dripping with sarcasm. "You didn't say 'sorry' the first time, let alone again. You know why? Because you're not. Like always, you're just telling me whatever the hell you think I wanna hear, whatever makes you sound like a halfway decent person."

Paloma only realized she was wearing a hard expression when she finally softened her eyes, working to chase away the frown that began to give her a headache.

"I am so sorry, kiddo" she gently assured. "Really...I am."

"You know, I actually believe that Paloma," Quinn ensured. "I believe you're sorry I found out."

"That's not why," the brunette whined.

"Drunk mind, sober heart."

Paloma ran her hands over her face then tangled them in her hair. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means the alcohol gave you a little push, yeah, but it only resurfaced things that were already there."

"Quinn—"

"You wanted to talk, right? You wanted me to say something. Well, here it is." Quinn clenched her teeth impossibly tighter, then offered her sister more insight, "If you were just straight with me from the start instead of simplifying things to what you thought I could handle and making me feel like a complete simpleton, even if you still said what you said last night, I would've actually been able to forgive you."

The elder Sullivan's frown returned once Quinn brushed past her, making a point to grab her cell phone and house keys on the way to the exit.

Paloma huffed in frustration. "You can't just leave every time things get hard, Quinn."

"Why not?" Quinn quickly turned around and bored her eyes into Paloma's one final time, the act causing her hair to spin in the air before gently meeting her shoulders again. "That's exactly what you did."

It didn't take a rocket scientist to decipher Quinn's somewhat cryptic avowal. The vein in Paloma's neck twitched, the teenager obviously striking a nerve.

"God," Paloma whispered. "You are never gonna let me live that down, are you?" she muttered just loud enough for the girl to hear. Paloma spoke with a sense of urgency when Quinn showed no signs of slowing down, "Where are you going?"

"Somewhere that's not here."

For once, Paloma bit her tongue and let her sister go. As a matter of fact, a tiny part of her was relieved because, in all honesty, she didn't have the slightest clue of what else to say, knowing that she had pretty much lost all credibility with the teenager.

But there was one thing she sincerely hoped, and that was that Quinn's theory lacked credibility too.