AUTHOR'S FOREWORD
This is a brand new story which I have decided to write in the lead up to the new Skins series at the end of January 2010. It is intended to be a story about a twenty-four hour period in the life of the Skins characters – but not just any old day, any old twenty-four hour period. It is Valentine's Day! The story will start at 06.00 on February 14th and end at 06.00 the following day and will follow all the characters as they move through this special day, both together as a group and individually. The idea for this story was given to me by Skins fanfic reader darkangel20098 to whom I must give my sincere thanks and recognition for kindly allowing me to use this concept as the basis for my story.
It will have the same basic structure as the famous '24' US drama series, but with each chapter representing a time period of two hours – I would have liked to have made each chapter represent one hour in length but I don't think I have the time to write 24 chapters between now and the end of January!!
I hope you like it and I will be really grateful to receive any reviews, comments and criticisms along the way. Your support and feedback on the story will, as always, be so important in helping me work out where I want to take it – as some of you who have read my stuff before already know, I'm not big on planning a story in great detail right down to the concluding chapter. I prefer to 'make it up' as I go along, to a large degree!
Time: 06.00.01
She had only been asleep for a couple of hours at the most, she reckoned , before the excitement of the day ahead must have been too much for her to want to waste it by being unconscious. She had woken up with a start but with a huge smile on her face as well, not to mention a nervous, fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach. She so wanted this day to be an unqualified success, a day that would live long in the memory. She could hardly wait to see the look on Naomi's face as she presented her with each successive little Valentines surprise that she had arranged for her.
She had spent ages planning the day down to the last detail, trying to leave nothing to chance, desperate to ensure that their first Valentines Day together would be a totally memorable experience for both of them. As she ran through the agenda in her head she looked over at the blonde girl whose bed she was sharing and who, unlike Emily, was still fast asleep, totally oblivious to what lay in store for her that fast approaching day. Naomi breathed so quietly when she was asleep that it was often almost impossible to tell if she was actually still alive and breathing. Only the tiniest, barely noticeable rise and fall of her chest gave Emily the reassuring sign that all was well.
Emily reached out a hand and ever so gently stroked her girlfriend's hair, running her delicate, trembling fingers through the long strands of platinum blonde-coloured locks. Her fingers were shaking with a mixture of simmering sexual desire and acute anxiety that her caresses, however soft and careful, might awaken the sleeping beauty lying inches away from her. At one point Emily was afraid she had woken up the slumbering blonde but mercifully Naomi merely stirred a fraction to let out a small, ladylike grunt before resuming her peaceful, rhythmic, nocturnal breathing.
Emily let out a small sigh of relief but reluctantly withdrew her hand and lay back in the bed, reflecting once more on her plans for the day. First item on the agenda was a special breakfast menu which she was going to prepare for the two of them and bring in on a tray and present to Naomi in bed. The redhead intended it to feature all her girlfriend's favourite breakfast choices: freshly squeezed orange juice, warm croissants, scrambled eggs and mushrooms with thin slices of Scottish smoked salmon, fresh fruit and a pot of piping hot decaffeinated coffee.
All the ingredients had already been secretly bought and hidden in the Campbell kitchen, out of Naomi's sight and she had gratefully enlisted the help of Gina, Naomi's mother, in thinking of places to hide the tell-tale food items so that Naomi wouldn't accidentally come across them and start asking awkward questions which might ruin the surprise. Gina had thought it was a wonderfully romantic way for the two girls to start the day and had promised that Emily could have a free run of the kitchen first thing in the morning to make her Valentine's Day Breakfast. And it was those very breakfast preparations that Emily was mulling over in her mind as she inadvertently slipped into dreamy, blissful unconsciousness once again.
Time: 06.25.18
Cook's eyes shot open for perhaps ten seconds, just long enough for him to take in the fact that he was in his own room, for once, and to mildly speculate on what must have woken him up. It had to be either some particularly loud snoring, even for him, or more likely an especially loud fart which he was always proud to admit to anyone who would listen had always proved to be a much more effective means of waking himself up in the morning than any alarm clock. Judging by the delightfully stale and pungent aroma of chicken tikka massala that now filled the room and was starting to infiltrate his twitching nostrils, his money was on the fart.
He closed his eyes again and stretched out his arms as he gave an enormous yawn and then stopped short as he felt something firm make contact with his left hand. He turned his head to the side, opened just the left eye, (opening both eyes for any length of time being a task way too difficult for Cook to accomplish before eight o'clock in the morning) and was momentarily astonished to see the unmistakeable form of a human body lying next to him in the bed.
From the long flowing tresses of dark hair, the sweet aroma of perfume which he could detect and which contrasted sharply with the still lingering smell of his Indian food flatulence and the delicately shaped feminine shoulders and arms that were visible above the duvet, he came to the reasonably safe conclusion that it was a woman.
Thank fuck for that, he thought. For one brief second the horrific thought had crossed his mind that he might have crashed out at Freddie's and somehow landed up in bed with his best mate. But he couldn't have got that pissed, surely. Clearly not. He turned his head to the side once more and had a good look at the sleeping figure next to him.
The female in question was lying on her side and her long, brown hair was hiding all her facial features so it was impossible for him to make out who it was. There was only one thing for it, he thought. He nudged her with his elbow, not hard but with sufficient force to provoke a deep grunt from the sleeping figure and an involuntary movement in which she turned over from sleeping on her side to lie on her back, thereby bringing her face into full view. Now Cook could have a good look at her and much good it did him! No, not a fucking clue who she is, he thought. Can't remember her name, can't remember where I must have picked her up, can't even recall coming back here with her.
Not that any of that particularly bothered Cook or gave him any feelings of shame or embarrassment. He was accustomed to waking up with all manner of strange girls and women in his bed – or anyone's bed, for that matter – and this would not have been the first time he had woken up next to some peacefully sleeping girl and not had a Scooby-Doo who the fuck the lucky cow was.
The fact that she was still with him in his bed clearly meant that he had succeeded in having his evil way with her the night before. If she hadn't been up for a shag, he would have sent her packing long before he had fallen into a state of unconsciousness. Cook wasn't n the habit of inviting girls back to his place for coffee and some polite, stimulating conversation. The only stimulation he was ever interested in a girl giving him revolved around his cock.
As the subject of his cock came into his head he turned round to peer a little more closely at the stranger and he realised that she wasn't at all bad-looking. Quite tasty, in fact, he thought and as he stared at her, gently pulling back the duvet just enough for him to note with appreciation the generously full breasts bobbing up and down as she breathed silently, he wondered if she might be up for an early morning quickie. He certainly was, if the steadily increasing length of his dick was anything to go by. Perhaps he wouldn't actually need to disturb her by waking her up. It would be a shame to interrupt her beauty sleep, he thought, surprising himself in the process with such a show of consideration and sensitivity.
He looked at the young girl some more before reluctantly deciding against it. He preferred his women to play a fully active, very vocal part in his sexual gratification. He hated it when they just laid back submissively and thought of England or whatever the hell it was the quiet ones thought about while he was doing all the bloody hard work humping away as if his life depended upon it. He lay back and closed his eyes, wondering with a certain indifference if the next time he opened them again she would be gone.
Time: 07.10.37
JJ lay curled up in a little ball in his bed and looked across at the alarm clock on the bedside table. There was still plenty of time before he had to force himself to get up and face the dreaded day, which is how he viewed the arrival of February 14th. He had never looked forward to Valentine's Day throughout his entire life – in fact he hated it and usually wanted the day to be over as quickly as possible. But this year he knew it was going to be worse than ever as all his friends were completely loved up. This knowledge filled him with an intense feeling of depression.
Freddie would be looking forward to spending the whole day with Effy – if she would let him, Pandora likewise with Thomas. Cook, naturally enough, would be aiming to beat last year's record of getting off with as many girls as possible in the twenty-four hours allowed to him and stuff the concept of romance and love. Uncomplicated sex, as often as he had the energy for it and with as many willing victims as he could find, would be the only thing uppermost in what passed for Cook's mind that Valentines Day.
Even his best and closest friend Emily would in all probability be out of circulation for the day. He had no doubts that she had been planning all manner of unspeakably romantic and lascivious treats for her beloved Naomi. He could just about bring himself to believe that Emily might forbid Naomi from leaving her house, or perhaps even the bedroom, as she sought to ravish the blonde's beautiful body all day long. JJ felt himself blush and shudder nervously as he tried to conjure up images of the sort of things that his closest friend and her girlfriend might get up to that day in the privacy of their own romantic boudoir setting.
They were bound to be things which he, as a seventeen year old boy of limited sexual experience, to wit just a single charity notch on his bedpost courtesy of a very sympathetic and kind-hearted Emily, couldn't even begin to understand or appreciate. JJ really liked girls, increasingly so in fact, especially in the last twelve months or so. Sadly, girls didn't seem to like him or at least not in the way he wanted them to like him, which was of course sexually although, unlike Cook, he would have preferred a bit of romance to be thrown into the equation as well as straightforward sex.
He had never received a Valentines Day card, he had never been in a position to take a girl out in the evening for a fabulously romantic, candlelit dinner in a quiet little restaurant and he'd not even been close to getting his leg over with any beautiful girl who was searching for some nice, kind, sensitive guy to be her very own Valentine for the day. This was the stuff of dreams for JJ and naturally enough he had spent a restless, fitful night, tossing and turning – or rather tossing off and then turning over to be slightly more accurate – as he slipped in and out of improbable dreams of meeting a lovely girl who would be his Valentine, even if it was just for that one solitary day.
It's no good, he thought, throwing back the duvet in frustration and leaping out of bed. He could feel the first signs of uncontrollable rage and resentment welling up inside of him and he was well aware he had to nip it in the bud before it took him over completely. Otherwise before he knew it he would lose all control of his emotions and fly into a fit of rage which would inevitably lead to him leaving a trail of destruction and chaos in his wake. He had to do something, anything, right now which would preoccupy his mind and calm the smouldering fire of rage that was threatening to burn away at him inside his head.
He ran out of his bedroom, flew down the stairs and into the kitchen, intent on making himself an incredibly early breakfast. His mother would still be fast asleep so he knew he had the kitchen all to himself. He would put the kettle on, make himself some toast, pout our some Cornflakes and generally keep himself busy and focused on this one simple routine task. He had to try to take his mind off the unpalatable yet inescapable fact that today would be a sad, miserable, depressing day for him when he would feel more alone than he felt on any other day of the year.
Time: 07.45.55
'What the fuck's this?' asked Effy, with a quizzical look on her face.
'Open it and find out,' replied Freddie, a little disappointed by the lack of pleasure or even mild interest in her voice.
Effy looked back at him in silence, appeared to consider the possibility of not bothering to carry out Freddie's suggestion for a moment before finally very slowly opening the envelope and taking out the card. She read the front without showing any visible sign of reaction then opened it up and read what was written inside. Freddie had spent ages trying to think of something profound or meaningful to put inside the card but as usual he had drawn a complete blank, imagination not being his strongest suit.
'So how long did it take you to come up with this…….drivel?' asked Effy, making no effort to keep the scorn and contempt out of her voice.
'Not that long,' lied Freddie, trying unsuccessfully to mask his disappointment at her reaction by forcing an unconvincing weak smile. 'I'm crap at that sort of thing, I know.'
'Well, you've certainly surpassed yourself this time, I've got to hand it to you. 'Be forever mine. Be my Valentine. Take me to your heart. I've loved you from the start.'
Effy screwed up her face in horror and stuck her fingers into her mouth, as if she was trying to make herself sick.
'Is this supposed to impress me? Am I meant to throw my arms around you and promise you my undying love on the strength of some pathetic schoolboy- infatuated card?'
Freddie face dropped markedly at Effy's possibly excessively harsh analysis of his laudable efforts at romantic poetry. OK, he knew it wasn't great, but surely it's the thought that counts. To be dismissed so contemptuously like that, without a word of appreciation or thanks for the effort he had made to be romantic, to reveal in all their naked vulnerability his emotions and feelings – well, that really hurt, he couldn't pretend otherwise.
'I'm sorry to have to do this, Freddie, but I'm afraid you leave me with no option.'
The tall, slim brunette walked over to the desk, picked up a pair of scissors from one of the tidy tubs and proceeded to cut up the card into lots of tiny pieces, very slowly, very deliberately, all the time smiling and laughing at Freddie who watched her in utter dismay and embarrassment. at her callous rejection of his show of affection.
When she had finished she collected the pieces in her hands and then, throwing her head back and bursting out into a demonic, chilling peal of laughter, threw the strips of card up into the air and then gleefully watched them fall down onto the floor, one by one.
'Now, be a sweetie and get out of here, Freddie, will you? I'm not interested in being anyone's Valentine and even if I was, I definitely wouldn't be yours. JUST FUCK OFF!'
Freddie almost jumped out of his skin as he sat bolt upright, several beads of sweat slowly trickling down his face, as he gasped out loud. He looked around him and realised he was still in the shed where he must have fallen asleep last night after he had said goodnight to JJ
SHIT! How many more dreams like that one would he have to endure? How many more times would he wake up in a cold sweat, worrying himself sick about what Effy would say to him, what Effy was thinking about him, whether she even cared about him much at all? He really wished he hadn't sent that Valentine's card to her now. At least he hadn't made it obvious that it had come from him, he had at least disguised his handwriting and this time he had remembered not to sign it which he had stupidly and absent-mindedly done many years ago when he fancied this girl at junior school. .
But he was afraid at what Effy's reaction would be to receiving a Valentine's card which she was bound to guess had come from him, even if he pretended he hadn't sent it. Besides, he was hopeless at lying so she would know instantly it had come from him. Would she like it, think it was sweet, thank him for it by kissing him ever so sweetly and sexily as she pressed her warm, sensuous utterly gorgeous body up against his? Or might she hate it, throw it away the moment he had left or even rip it up in front of him?
That was the problem. That was what was driving him insane, giving him sleepless nights or waking him up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat when he did manage to fall asleep. HE JUST DIDN'T KNOW! He couldn't read Effy to save his life. He hadn't the foggiest idea whether their first Valentine's Day together would be a wonderfully romantic occasion or a miserable, depressing day of uncertainty and confusion. He sighed heavily, threw himself back against the hard, uncomfortable sofa and screwed his eyes tight shut to block out the frustrating image of an enigmatic, mysterious, unemotional Effy continuing to hold back from showing him her true feelings.
Time: 07.59.59