A/N: I had a tingle of inspiration with regards to SF and actually read back over the last chapter... It isn't as bad as I thought it was...maybe I'm being hard on myself, overly critical, whatever... I thought it was actually lazy writing ending it that way...don't get me wrong I know it's a sweet scene, but I had originally intended to end it with Naomi sketching the sea while Emily observed and took photos.
I have had another plot line in my head related to the art side of it, and I think I might proceed with that one, and maybe set it a week or so ahead. I think the pace needs a bit of quickening... So I'm not making any promises, because I think personally the break from SF has been good (it allowed me to write RU and I don't think anyone is complaining about that...), and I am going to try and spend some time on it.
In the meantime... Because I don't know now long it will take me to figuratively pull my finger out, I am going to post something I've had, again, sitting on my iPad for a while. You guys can tell me if it's any good and if you want to see more of it, you all know what to do with the box thingies down below.
Again, this one is first person, and I'm interested to know which one people think I write I better.
On with it, then...
Disclaimer: I do not own skins. Sometimes I just come up with ideas, and... Yeah. Any and all typographical errors are completely accidental, I swear!
(Emily POV)
Keep calm.
That's what I'm trying to tell myself as I stand backstage.
Keep calm.
It rolls around my mind like a mantra, in quiet tones that are usually soothing, but I'm so nervous that all thought of anything being soothing is not serving to quell the storm of butterflies in my stomach.
The cold shiver I usually get before going onstage hit me as I hear the announcer.
"Ladies and germs, next up tonight we have a local Bristol poet who some of you may know well, please welcome Miss Emily Fitch!"
Ok, so the applause is sort of sporadic, but I'm used to it, and I push the curtain aside and take my place on stage at the microphone.
"Good evening, everyone, I hope you're all having a wonderful night. My piece this evening is titled 'Eyes', so I hope you enjoy it."
A further smattering of applause. Gee, tough crowd this evening, no? Oh well, on with the show. Time to bare my tortured heart once more...
"What do I see, when I open my eyes?
A world of colour, so vibrant and pure.
I see your face in front of me
With skin so beautiful
The hair that frames your face, so soft
The cleanness of your vision
Speaking to my heart.
Your own eyes that pierce mine
In many ways
Subtle, direct... Challenging.
What more can I say?
I accept.
Pierce me a little more, with your eyes.
Dig yourself in, so you can stay there.
Let me drown in ways I never imagined.
Connect to me, as I connect to you.
Hold me close, in a less physical way
That leaves nothing unspoken.
Oh, how I wish you would.
The things I would love to tell you
With only my eyes to speak.
The clarity of your irises
Speak to me in a language without words
Without physicality
Tell me you love me
Just with your beautiful eyes."
There's a short pause.
"Thank you." I say, to another ripple of applause, bolstered by the whole hearted cheering of Cook and Katie, who are somewhere near the back of the crowd. Looks like it's a good thing I brought my 'fan club' with me. I take a small bow, as the announcer comes back into the stage.
"Give her a hand, folks, Emily Fitch!"
I give a small wave and smile as I walk off the stage to somewhat sporadic applause. Philistines.
"We're going to take a short break and be back in about half an hour, so grab yourself a drink and chill out, folks!" The announcer continues, as I make my way down the steps.
I don't know why I still submit myself to this.
I'm Emily Fitch. The announcer probably gave you the heads up on that, no? If you haven't figured it out, I write poetry. I like to think I'm good at it, but the usual pub crowd are usually too drunk to notice what I'm saying, hence the lacklustre applause.
Which is more or less why I brought Cook and my sister Katie with me. Thank god they were free tonight, or else I might not have got any applause at all, that wasn't half-hearted.
I made my way to the bar, shuffling past drunken punters that had their eyes fixed on the stage, but were now just milling around aimlessly, now that there was nothing to hold their attention on stage.
"Vodka and lemonade, thanks." I say to the bartender, handing over a tenner. He nods and makes my drink, setting it on a coaster, along with my change.
"That was a great poem, love." He says, with a smile. "You busy later?"
Oh, right. The bartender who thinks he can get any girl, just because he can flip liquor bottles like they are juggling clubs. Unlucky for him, considering he has equipment I have no interest in.
"I, uh..." I start, with my usual speech.
"She's not your type, mate." The lisp of Katie's voice startles me slightly as she slides into a seat next to me. "So, fuck off, yeah?" She says, with a tight smile.
"Subtle." The bartender says, before frowning and moving away.
"You're lucky, Ems. That guy? Total loser and a lousy shag." My sister scoffs.
"Why am I not surprised that you are the one to tell me that, Katie?"
"'Cause, I'm your big sister, and I know best!"
I laugh. "You're only older by six minutes, Kay."
"Whatever, Ems. You know I'm right. You need a decent guy, and he's not a decent guy."
"And as I've told you many times, not looking for a guy, Kay! So stop setting me up with Danny's mates, yeah? I can't believe you're still with him, anyway. He's such a sleaze."
"I can't believe you still think you're confused."
I groan and hold my head in my hand. "Katie, I'm not 'confused'. I'm GAY!"
"You're not gay, Ems... Just stupid."
"What did you think of the poem?" I ask, changing the subject.
"Huh? Oh yeah... It was great. This crowd doesn't know poetry at all." Katie says, matter-of-factly.
Like she would know. Her appreciation of poetry extends to Lady Gaga lyrics, which she thinks are the best thing since sliced bread. Catchy, but not quite as memorable or intelligent as say, John Lennon, or Freddie Mercury.
"EMILIO!" The nickname Cook has for me pierces the air around us as he wanders up and slings his arm around my shoulders. "Fookin' awesome poem, man. Have no idea what it meant, but you wrote it, so it's awesome in Cookie's book."
"Ha, thanks Cook." I reply, as he hugs me, the smell of his usual cheap cologne permeating my nose.
"Mint! I say we get drinking and I need a willy waggle. Don't suppose you'd fancy it, Emilio?"
A short laugh leaves my throat. "Still gay, Cookie."
"Damn. Well, if you ever change your mind..." He says, wiggling his eyebrows. God knows how that boy manages to get a shag at all, he's a bit on the boorish side, but can be sweet when he wants or needs to be, I suppose.
"She'd have to be blind drunk first." Katie mutters, and Cook just laughs loudly.
"OI! Bartender! Gimme a pint and six shots of TEQUILA!" Cook shouts above the music. The bartender nods and sets about preparing the drinks.
"So, Ems... Time to go out and have some fun, yeah? There's this new club that's opened, and..."
The bartender sets the shots down in front of Cook, and he slides two over to both me and Katie. "Drink up, ladies! Lets get fuckin' mental!"
I knock back the shots one after the other, and wince as the alcohol burns its way down my throat, settling warm in my stomach.
"Ems?" My sister prods.
"Actually, Katie, I was planning on staying until the end of the night, and then just going home." I protest. I was interested in seeing the other talent tonight, and not spending the night fending off the boys Katie would no doubt send my way. She's irritating sometimes, and often thinks I'm confused about who I am, and that I'll grow out of the 'phase' eventually. Oh well, at least she didn't try and have me 'cured' like mum certainly would have...if she knew.
The psychologist I saw once or twice (before I decided it wasn't for me) got a huge laugh when I told him why I was there. He told me that there was really nothing wrong with me, and that it was pointless to continue seeing me. He could see that I wasn't confused about who I was, given that I told him I knew that I was gay from as early as the age of nine.
I wasn't too happy with what he told me somehow, but whatever. At the age of seventeen, I wasn't going to let anything dictate how I lived my life, least of all my mother's homophobia, so I left home and moved into a flat with Katie, who was a bit of a slob at times, but didn't care, in the end, that I was gay. Her consistent attempts to try and set me up with random loser boys were annoying at first, but we reached an understanding about it, eventually. But occasionally, she would forget. I love my twin dearly, but Jesus, she can be ditzy at times.
"Seriously, Ems? Most of the people tonight have been awkward lesbians with bad taste in fashion. There's gotta be something more fun than this!"
I look at her, trying to set her on fire with my gaze. Damn, it's not working.
"You go ahead, Katie. I'm staying."
"Suit yourself. Although why you'd stay, I have no idea. Plenty of hot guys to be had at this club!" she replies, as she turns to leave.
"Katie... We've had this discussion. I'm gay, you need to remember it and stop trying to set me up with random twats!" I yell to her, earning me a wave as she exits the pub. I shake my head and Cook laughs.
"She's still occasionally forgetting about it, isn't she?"
"Like you wouldn't believe, Cookie."
"Well, if you ever change your mind..." He grins, before wandering off.
"Alright folks, we're going to be back in about five minutes, so time to get a fresh drink and find somewhere to sit or lean!" The announcer says, as people begin to scramble for the bar. I feel a jolt from behind me as someone knocks into me, and what's left of my vodka and lemonade spills down my top. It's a good thing I wore black.
"Oh, god. I'm so sorry! Are you ok?" A female voice says, as a hand grips my shoulder. I turn around, and I know I'm short, but I'm met with a pair of tits in a white singlet, and shoulders, hidden under a blue blazer, and shrouded in peroxide blonde hair. I look up to be met with a concerned expression, but am trapped, oh, so trapped by her eyes. The most beautifully clear blue eyes I think I've ever seen.
"Are you ok?" She repeats, looking at me with curiosity and wonder. God, she is beautiful. I know I'm staring, but I just can't help myself. Well, my heart is thumping out of my chest, and my top is half drenched, but other than that I'm just perfect. Wait, why is my heart doing that?
"I...uh...yeah, I'm fine. No harm done." I say, with a shy smile. "Nothing that won't wash out."
"Oh, good. Sorry about that, I'm such a klutz sometimes." She continues, and then stops. "Hey, weren't you the last poet? Um, Emily, right?"
"Yeah." I blush. "You have me at a disadvantage, though."
"I do?"
"You know my name, but I don't know yours..." I say, smirking.
She looks at me, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Oh, right. Um, I'm Naomi." She says, holding her hand out. I take and shake it, feeling a slight jolt from the contact of her skin against mine.
"Naomi. Nice to meet you. Did you like the poem?" I ask.
"It was interesting. Very...descriptive." She says, hesitantly.
"It's ok, you can say if you didn't. I can handle the criticism." I smile.
"No, I did like it, I'm just not as good at describing things as you seem to be. But then I guess that's why you write poetry and I study politics."
I laugh. "Well, poetry is only one thing I do. I also write for the local paper here in Bristol. You know, the usual fluff to pay the bills."
It's then I notice that she's staring at me, curiously. As though she is hovering over every inch of my features, drinking me in with her beautiful blue eyes.
"Can I buy you a drink? To make up for the one I made you spill?"
I watch her expression, it's hopeful, and something about her is drawing me in.
"Sure. Vodka and lemonade."
She flags down the bartender and orders me a new drink, as well as one for herself, and he places them on coasters in front of us. She motions to it and smiles. "Care to sit down?" I nod and we move over to a free booth, sitting opposite each other.
"So, you study politics?" I ask her, as we sit down. I wish I didn't find it hard to make conversation at the best of times. But then I'm not used to meeting girls in pubs and not having it lead to a quick shag in the toilets in the first twenty minutes.
"Yeah, as well as a minor in journalism. I'm only here covering the poetry night for the uni paper."
"I expect a decent write-up, in that case." I joke.
"Actually, I think you are the highlight of the evening. The rest of this lot have frankly been boring me to tears."
"Really?" I ask. "I'm flattered, thank you." I smile. It's probably less of a goofy smile than it feels like, but it's been a while since I had a compliment like that.
"Welcome." She replies, taking a sip from her drink. It takes me a few seconds to realise I'm blatantly staring at her lips. She's wearing lip balm, and they look soft and sensuous. I'm almost thinking about them wrapped around my ni- ARGH! Snap out of it, Emily!
I clear my throat. "I'd like to read your review, if that's alright."
"It'll be done by the end of the week. If you give me your number I can text you to let you know when it's done." she says.
"Strange way to ask for a girl's number..." I mutter, as Naomi slides her phone across the table to me.
She shrugs, as I punch in my number, and slide it back across to her. "Well, it's less clichéd than just inviting you out for coffee. Besides, the paper is an online edition, so I can just shoot you the web address, if you like."
"Sure, but I think you should take me out for coffee, anyway. It would at least be polite after you spilled my drink." I smirk.
"Hey, I bought you a drink, doesn't that make up for it?" She protests. She bites her bottom lip between her teeth. God, that's cute. She's cute. I want to take her home, and...
"For the drink, yes." I reply, mentally smacking myself. "But I'm talking about my pain and suffering, here."
Naomi looks at me suspiciously. "Pain and suffering, over a spilled vodka? You're having me on, Emily."
I shrug and smile. "Was worth a shot." I sip from my drink, and set the glass back on its coaster. "I'd like to, though. Go for a coffee with you. Only if you want to, though."
Naomi laughs softly. "Yeah, I'd like that."
"Are you busy tomorrow?" I ask her.
"You're awfully forward, being that we've just met." She replies. "But yes, I have a bit of free time tomorrow afternoon after classes. I'll text you and let you know when and where."
"I shall await it, with keen interest."
She finishes her drink, and checks the large gold watch that is on her wrist, and frowns. "Well, I've got all I'm going to get here tonight. Unfortunately, I have to go. Early morning tomorrow. It's been great chatting with you, though." She says, as she stands up. "Sorry again about the spillage."
"It's fine, no harm done." I reply, as she offers her hand again. I reach out to shake it, once again feeling a tingle as our skin touches. Her eyes widen, so I know she feels it as well.
"See you tomorrow, then." She nods, and then turns and walks away through the crowd.
"Who was that?" Cook asks, as he sits across from me, taking the space that Naomi just vacated.
"Huh?" I ask, distracted as I try to keep my eyes on her blonde hair as it walks through the pub door.
"The blonde fit girl that was just sitting here?"
"Oh." I reply, feeling empty because she's not sitting in front of me anymore. "Her name's Naomi." Oh, I like the way her name feels as I say it. I can't help but think what it would sound like when I'm screaming it. Dear god, I've only just met the girl and already I'm infatuated with her. "She's covering the event for her uni paper."
"Nice one. Reckon she'd fancy a shag?"
I stare at him. "Don't you dare. She's mine. At least... With any luck."
"Oh yeah? And without any luck?"
"All yours, Cookie!" I grin, with a wink, as I blow him a kiss. "I'm off, yeah? See you later."
"Alright, Emilio. Take care, yeah? No talking to strange neanderwhatsit lesbians on yer way home."
"Do I ever?" I laugh, standing up, and punching him playfully in the shoulder. I make my way out of the pub and hit the street, to see Naomi having a conversation with a tall girl with long light brown hair. The girl is standing closer to Naomi than looks comfortable, and it makes me want to go over there and smack her. What? I shake the thought from my head and stand in the shadows, watching. I'm not a stalker, I swear. Really!
"So, how about it, Naomi?"
"Sophia, I've told you... It was fun, but I'm not really interested, ok? It just isn't a goer."
"Is this how you treat all the girls you sleep with?" She asks her.
Invisible cheerleaders are doing a "hallelujah, she's on your side of the fence!" dance next to me.
"No, just the ones I've no intention of sleeping with again." She says, a snarkiness to her tone. She turns and walks off down the street, and I have to stop myself from going after her.
I may have been infatuated with her on first meeting, but I wasn't a stalker. So, I just resign myself to walking home, in the opposite direction to her. My text alert goes off, and it's from a number I don't recognise.
"Hey, it's Naomi. Here's my number, just in case something comes up and you can't make it tomorrow. But I hope you can, it was nice spending time with you. Sorry again about the drink. Have a good night. xNx"
I type back a reply.
"Hi, thanks for the text. I left not long after you, actually. No worries about the shirt. It'll wash out ;) Take care and get home safe, ok? See you tomorrow. xEmilyx"
I put my phone back in my pocket and continue walking home. But I'm already looking forward to coffee with Naomi tomorrow.
I was woken up the next morning by the rain splattering against the window. That, and the obnoxious ringtone of my mobile. I slid an arm out from under the duvet and blindly groped for it, my fingers coming into contact with it on my bedside table.
"Hello?" I answered.
"Emily! You're late!" Freddie said, jolting me completely awake. I look at the clock sitting on my bedside table. It was a little after nine.
"Fuck! Sorry, Freds. I'm out the door in five, yeah? Be there as soon as."
"Ok, but you'd better hurry, Johnson is being a right pain this morning."
"Alright, I'm on my way." I say, hanging up. The last thing I needed was my boss on my case. I got out of bed and showered, getting dressed in probably record time, and made my way out the door. Coffee could wait until I hit the office.
"FITCH! GET IN HERE!"
I groan, as I hear Johnson's voice echo through the office. I drop my damp rucksack on the floor at the side of my desk and head into his office.
"You're late." He says, from behind his desk. "What's your excuse?"
"Sorry, Mr Johnson, my alarm didn't go off." I offer.
"Hmm." He says, peering up at me, looking at me skeptically. "Alright, but this is the last time, Fitch. Next time you are late, I'm writing you up. The food section needs a piece on that new café that's just opened up on the high street. You're it. I want it in my inbox tomorrow by three. Now, get out of my sight."
"Right. Thanks, Mr Johnson." I reply, before walking backwards out of his office. I cross to my desk and sit down. Freddie wanders up and sits on the corner of my desk.
"How'd it go with Johnson?" he said.
"The usual. He's given me an assignment on that new café that's opened. Do you know the name of it?"
"Yeah, The Pickled Fig? Karen went there the other day, says its alright. What's he got you doing? Straight review?"
"Yeah, by tomorrow. Shouldn't be too hard, I'm off this afternoon and I'm meeting someone for coffee. Looks like I found a venue."
"Oh yeah? Anyone I know?"
"I don't think so. She's a uni student... She was writing a piece on the poetry thing last night."
"How did that go?" Freddie asks, fiddling with some pens in the cup on my desk.
"Same old crowd of wankers who don't really appreciate poetry that much, I suppose. Anyway, she liked it, we'll, she told me as much after she spilled my drink all over me." I explained.
"Classy. And you got a coffee date after that?"
"In a roundabout way. I kind of talked her into it."
"Nice. Is she hot?"
I picture her in my head, recalling the images I more or less stored in my mind automatically the previous night. "She's gorgeous." I grin.
"And you didn't go home with her?"
"When I spoke to her, I wasn't sure about her. It wasn't until after she left that I had my suspicions confirmed. She was talking to a girl outside the pub and was fobbing her off. Apparently they slept together before, and the other girl was looking for a repeat, but Naomi wasn't having it."
"Naomi?" Freddie asked.
"Oh yeah, that's her name."
"Hmm."
"What? You look like you know something..." I say, looking at Freddie with a curious expression.
"Oh, it's just... Effy knows a Naomi who is studying at uni and works on the paper there. Tallish, blonde, blue eyes..."
"That sounds like her."
"Effy says she can be a bit of a grumpy bitch sometimes."
"Oh?"
"Well, I dunno her, do I? But Eff says she's totally gay, so your suspicions are correct."
I can't hide the grin on my face. "Reckon you can get me the address for that café?"
"I'll have it for you by lunch!" Freddie smiles, and wanders off to his own desk.
Later, Freddie has emailed me the address for the café. I pick up my phone and send a text to Naomi.
"Hi, are we still on for coffee? There's a new café that's opened up that's worth a try... The Pickled Fig? xEmilyx"
A few minutes later, I get a reply.
"Hi, yeah, I know the place. Meet you there around two for a late lunch? xNx"
That works for me, at least then I can try the food, and write my review tonight.
"Sounds great. I'll see you then :) xEmilyx"
It's still raining by the time I get there. It's been chucking it down all day, but thankfully, I've spent the majority of it inside. I look at the outside of the place, it looks to be somewhat upmarket from the outside, but you never can tell the true vibe of a place until you step inside.
So I do. I open the door, and am greeted by a very homely aroma. Coffee, no doubt, as well as nuances of sweet and savoury goodness. God, I really am starting to sound like Astrid, the quirky chick who usually does our food reviews. But she's been off sick with the flu for a couple of weeks, which is why I've been landed with her assignment.
I spot Naomi's long blonde hair, she is sitting at a table by the window, looking at one of the menus. I walk over to her table.
"Hey. Thanks for coming." I say, with a smile as I sit down.
"You must be lucky, I usually don't venture out in this weather for just anybody." she replies, gesturing to the rain that's pelting down outside. I can hear the sarcasm in her voice, and it's sort of amusing. I sit down across from her and pick up a menu from between the salt and pepper shaker, and peruse it carefully. It seemed like your usual café type fare.
"How hungry are you?" I ask, looking over at her.
"Not particularly, I'm not fussed, though... We can share some chips or something if you want." She replies.
The waitress comes over, wearing a black apron, embroidered with a fancy "Pickled Fig" logo. "Hiya, welcome to The Pickled Fig. What can I get you?"
"Latté?" I ask Naomi, who nods in response. I turn back to the waitress. "Two lattés and an order of chips to share."
"Alright, and what sides would you like with your chips?"
"What have you got?" Naomi asks.
"Barbecue, tomato, sweet chilli and sour cream." Naomi looks at me, as if to tell me it's my choice.
"Hmm...sweet chilli and sour cream." I reply.
"Alright. I'll be back with your order, shortly." She says, giving us both each a wide smile.
"Someone should tell her to cut down on the coffee." Naomi mumbles, once the waitress is out of earshot. I can't help but laugh, which earns me a raised eyebrow from her. "What? There's doing your job in a cheery manner, and there's forcing the cheeriness. She was forcing it."
"You think?" I ask.
"Not only that, she was eyeing you up. She could barely take her eyes off you." she says, with a smirk. I look back at her, eyebrow raised skeptically. I can't help but think that I've not only got an advantage in knowing that Naomi is gay, but not only that, her tone is bordering on flirtatious.
"Well, I don't think she would have got far. Totally not my type." I laugh, looking directly at Naomi. God, her eyes are so blue. A real vivid blue that just threatens to suck me in. You are my type, I think to myself. And I know something you don't know that I know.
"And what is your type, then?" She asks, as the waitress brings our order.
"There's your chips and your coffee. Enjoy!" She says, with a smile and walks off.
"You're right, she is trying too hard." I snicker, stirring some sugar into my coffee.
"You didn't answer my question..." Naomi says, quietly, stirring her own coffee. She's staring at me so intently, it should be unnerving, but it isn't. Her gaze is one of curiosity. Like no matter what the outcome, she just wants to know the answer.
"I find it's more about the person on the inside, rather than the superficial. My type is intelligent and can hold a conversation. Although, looking gorgeous doesn't hurt." I reply, looking right at her through half open eyes. "But if she's as thick as two short planks..." I say, indicating the waitress, "Yeah, not my thing." I finish, picking up a couple of chips off the place and dipping them into the sour cream, before eating them. I notice her eyes widen slightly as I do.
Ok, so eating chips isn't exactly seductive. But hey, I make do with what I have in my immediate area.
"So, a girl with a brain, then?" she says, reaching across for some chips of the plate.
"Yeah."
"But if you had to simplify it... Say you're out at a club, and you're really wankered and fancy a shag, but don't have the time or patience to converse with her and find out about her..." She says, egging me on.
"Then, it's the eyes." I reply, again locking my eyes with hers. "And what about you?" Go on, I dare you., I think. Either look away, or bite. Please bite. Please?
"Creativity. I like those who are creative. Intelligence helps, too. For much the same reason as you mentioned." she says.
"And if you were totally wankered and fancying a shag?"
She laughs, slightly, and I decide it's a sound I could get used to hearing. "Then it would also be the eyes, as well as whatever else is distinctive." she says, nodding to me. It takes me a second to realise she is talking about my hair. "Sort of catches the eye." she says, as I feel myself blushing. "It's much brighter in daylight, though."
"Even more so on a sunny day." I say, with a shy smile.
"So, you said you work for a newspaper?" She asks.
"Yeah, The Bristol Star. Band reviews, other fluff pieces... The odd restaurant review."
"Ah, so that's why we're here." Naomi smirks.
I laugh, brushing my fringe out of my eyes. "Ok, you got me. Our food person is off sick and my prick of a boss made me do her article this week, because I was late to work this morning, and she was supposed to review this place. Besides, I wasn't sure where else to go."
"Ah. I wondered why you ordered chips." Naomi smirked.
"Well, I sort of skipped lunch, as well." I grinned.
"Occupational hazard?"
"Well, when you're doing food reviews."
Naomi nods. "So... Tell me about yourself, Emily." she says, resting her chin on her hand.
"Not much to tell. I'm twenty, I work at the paper, and I write poetry. In my spare time, I like to listen to music, watch the odd movie. I also like dogs and long walks on the beach at sunset."
"You forgot to mention that you're a bit of smartarse." Naomi says, sarcasm lacing her tone.
"And ruin the fun of you discovering it? Of course not!" I grin.
"Any brothers or sisters?"
"One twin sister. One perve of a little brother."
Naomi raises her eyebrow. Did I mention how cute I found that? Yes? Well, I've decided it's not cute, it's totally fucking sexy. "You have a twin sister?"
"Yeah. But she's the total opposite of me. Loud, a bit obnoxious, and will practically shag any guy who looks at her, so long as she considers him totally fit."
"Hmm. So you two are identical?"
"Mostly. Except for the hair, hers is dyed a sort of dark purple colour. It's the only way to tell us apart, these days. Our mum made us do all that identical twin shit until we were about twelve, you know... same clothes, same hair. And then Katie, that's my sister... She insisted we keep it up, until a couple of years ago. I dyed my hair red first, though. She got really mad and dyed it to copy me, then decided she liked it. It wasn't until last year she changed it to the colour it is now."
"Who's the older twin?" Naomi asks, taking another couple of chips from the plate and smothering them in cream and chilli before eating them.
I frown. "Katie is, but only by six minutes."
"Clearly, you were the masterpiece, then." she smiles. The tone of her compliment ripples through me and makes me feel warm inside. I can feel myself blushing again, and I pick up my coffee and sip it slowly.
"Don't tell Katie that. She'd probably give you a snarky line about how she's better looking, or how she's less confused than I am."
"Confused?" Naomi asks, clearly puzzled by my comment.
"Katie's in denial, just like my mother. Refuses to believe I'm gay. I just haven't found the right man, yet!" I say, mimicking both my mother and sister in the one statement.
"That must be hard, no? And I don't see how they could be in denial, it's pretty obvious, Emily."
What?
"You mean? You knew! And yet you asked me all that shit about my type and everything!"
Naomi holds her hands up in surrender. "Guilty. Sorry, couldn't resist it. I mean, I wasn't completely sure, but I needed you to confirm it, and it was a bit more subtle than just asking you outright, no?"
"And a little less rude, I guess." I smirk. "At least I didn't need to confirm with you."
"No? I didn't think my appearance screamed "lezzer". I thought I was a bit more subtle than that." Naomi frowned, slightly.
"Oh, you are. I mean, my gaydar is pretty good, but that's not what gave it away." I laughed. "It was your conversation with the girl outside the pub last night that sort of clued me in."
"Eh? Oh... Sophia." Naomi says. Well, she half groans it. "How did you know about that?"
I shrug. "I left just after you did. I was going to stay for the rest of the poetry event, but lost interest after you left. When I got out of the pub, you were there talking to her."
"Yeah, fobbing her off, more like. I only shagged her the once, and she keeps trying it on, even though I've told her it's not a goer. She wasn't even that good."
"It's always the clingy randoms that seem to be trouble." I laugh.
"Unfortunately, she and I are both at the same uni. So I run into her rather regularly." Naomi adds. "I think she's a bit infatuated with me, although I can't understand why."
"Oh, I can." I blurt out, clearly without thinking. I realise what I've said, and then look at her. She's piercing me again, with those eyes of hers. Not only that, she's capturing me. And I think she thinks she knows it. "You are gorgeous." I tell her, quietly.
"T-thanks." she says, as if unsure how to take the compliment.
"And, you seem to appreciate poetry. Either that, or you were just there out of some obligation to your uni paper, which would be sad, because I'd like to think you're as smart as you are attractive."
"You have to be smart to appreciate poetry?"
"It depends. To properly appreciate it, I believe a certain amount of intelligence is required, but then some poetic things are not as smart as they could be. Song lyrics, for one."
"Oh, I don't know. There are some great lyrics that have been written over time."
I laugh. "This is true, but the greatness has dwindled over time. Haven't you seen those Internet memes that compare Led Zeppelin to the likes of Beyoncé, or god forbid, Nicki Minaj?"
"Ugh." Naomi shudders. "Surely that's..."
"Complete sacrilege. Yeah, I know. But kids these days feed off that tripe."
"True. What do you usually listen to?" She asks.
"Anything except country, really."
"No country? Why?"
I look at her curiously. I mull over my answer for a moment. "I just don't like the way it sounds. I have some whiny music in my collection, but it's just that whole country twang that just rubs me the wrong way."
"Interesting." she replies, still staring at me. Our eyes lock and we don't say anything for a few moments. I don't know what she's thinking, and it should be concerning me, but I find that it isn't.
"Don't you want to know why it's interesting?" She asks, breaking the comfortable silence between us.
A smile crosses my lips. "Sure, I do. But maybe it's not something I want to find out today..." I reply, my eyebrow raising of its own accord.
"You're rather confident, aren't you?" Naomi smirks. "Thinking that we'll go out again."
"Well, you have to be confident, to get on a stage in front a bunch of drunken students and bare your soul." I answer. "Besides, I'd like to get to know you more." I pause. "And you wouldn't be here if you weren't curious about me, or are you just here out of obligation, seeing as I sort of..."
"...Railroaded me into coffee slash lunch? I DID spill your drink all over you, remember?"
"Yes, and usually I get to know a girl before she gets me all... wet."
Naomi raises her eyebrow in response to that, and then a sly smile spreads across her lips. "Confident, and cheeky. I think I'm liking you even more, Emily." she chuckles.
We both reach towards the plate, and our fingers connect as we each try and pick up the last chip. Naomi draws her hand back quickly, almost as if she's been burnt by something. I wonder for a moment, if she felt the same sensation I just did.
"Go ahead." I say softly, nodding to the chip.
"No, it's ok, you take it." she says.
I shake my head and smile. "Here, we'll split it, yeah?" I say, picking up the chip and splitting it in half, holding one half out to her. The tips of her fingers brush against mine as she takes it from me, and the electricity that passes between us makes me shiver. I dip my half of the chip into what's left of the sour cream, and pop it in my mouth, watching Naomi, as she looks back at me, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth, a shy smile crossing her lips.
She picks up the other half of the chip, scoops up the rest of the sour cream, and I swallow, my eyes trained on her mouth, blatantly observing the way her gorgeous lips move as she chews slowly.
"So..." she says, once she has swallowed her mouthful, "is your review of this place going to be favourable?"
"Coffee wasn't bad, chips were ok..." I muse. "But the weather's shit, and the company is even worse..."
"Ha, liar!" Naomi smirks. "You're thoroughly enjoying my company, and you know it!"
"Someone's a little full of themselves..." I laugh.
"Well, at least I didn't spill anything on you this time around."
"And my shirt thanks you, believe me!"
"Smartarse."
"You love it." I say, with a wink. Naomi looks at me with what appears to be confusion, like she wants to tell me yes, but something is stopping her. She opens her mouth to say something, but her phone's ringtone stops her. She looks at the screen and frowns, sighing.
"Sorry, but I have to go. Flatmate." She says, holding up her phone. She fishes around in her pocket.
"Don't, I'll get it." I say.
"Don't be silly. Coffee is on me, as payback for spilling your drink, remember?"
We stare at each other for a few moments, as if having a silent disagreement about who should pay. I finally raise my eyebrow.
"Ok, you pay for the coffee, then. I ordered the chips, and have to write the review anyway, so they're on me."
Naomi looks at me, biting her bottom lip. "Ok, deal." She tosses a fiver onto the table between us, and stands up. "Next time, though, it's on you."
"Next time? Now who's being cocky?" I smirk. She simply shrugs, and looks at me with a hopeful expression, and then turns to leave. I stand up, leaving enough on the table for the chips, following her out of the café.
"Naomi..." I start, as we exit through the door, the rain now having stopped, and she spins around and steps towards me, looking at me with a very intense expression. The intensity of her gaze traps me, and her eyes flick downwards briefly, and then come back up to meet mine. She leans closer, my breath catches, and my tongue unconsciously flicks out, licking my lips right before her own brush against mine, in a tentative kiss. And if I thought there was electricity when our fingers touched, the contact of her soft, warm lips against mine was like a ten thousand volt charge going right through my body, running through my bloodstream and settling low in my stomach. And it's Naomi that deepens it, gently running her tongue across my lip, the palm of her hand making contact with my neck, before she pulls back and stares at me, her eyes looking darker than I've seen them so far.
"Whoa." she whispers, barely audible to anyone else but me. We're staring at each other again, and I'm not sure what to say. See you later? Can you kiss me again, so I can make sure it was real, and not just a figment of my imagination? Before I can open my mouth, Naomi's phone starts to ring, and she frowns as she answers it. "Hey, Eff. Yeah, I'm on my way now. Ok, see you shortly." she hangs up, and looks at me, apologetically. "Sorry, I really have to go."
"Shame..." I say, my voice huskier than usual. "Can I call you later?"
She ponders my question, briefly, and then nods. "Yeah, I think I'd like that." she says quietly, as she gives me another shy smile, making my heart skip. She leans in and kisses my cheek softly. "See you later." she says as she turns and walks away.
"I certainly hope so..." I whisper to myself.
A/N#2: Thoughts? Yay? Nay? Do tell.
Cheers as always for reading, and forgive my consistent apprehension about my talent. It's as consistent as my talent for writing things that keep you interested in reading, I suppose.
Until next time...
~GN~ xo