Simple summary: we've got college, we've got Naomi, we've got Emily, as well as the rest of the Skins Gen Two cast - it all adds up to your classic and very sarcastic Naomily tale - perhaps enough to spark your interest. You can expect comedy and plenty of snarky attitudes in this one - the ol' push and pull of their relationship. On that note, I'll let the story do the rest of the explaining. Off you go...
Author's Note: Hey guys! How are you? I'm back with a new story as promised - one I fully intend to finish. I have over 40 pages at the moment, so there's hope! I'll start you off with a long chapter, yes? If you're wary of math, I apologize. This is the only chapter that will reference it, purely for comedic purposes. Don't worry I won't make you think, haha. Besides, who can hate math when Naomi and Emily are involved...
Chapter One: Equally Matched
"In the first box enter the constant that should be added to the binomial so that it becomes a perfect square trinomial. In the box on the right-hand side enter the binomial that when squared, equals the trinomial on the left-hand side. There is only one possible correct answer for each blank..."
What...? One more time, maybe.
"In the first box enter the constant that should be added to the binomial so that it becomes a perfect square trinomial. In the box on the right-hand side enter the binomial that when squared, equals the trinomial on the left-hand side. There is only one possible correct answer for each blank."
Fucking hell. Eight? Twenty-four? I don't fucking understand this. Did they even teach this in the lecture? God, there's not even a slight chance I'm going to pass this damn exam. Frustrated, Emily dropped her pencil into the middle fold of the textbook in her lap. She leaned back, taking consolation in the old couch cushions. She momentarily glanced around the room, before allowing the burdening pressure of passing her exams to draw her back into university algebra. Just as she was about to try reading again, a studious blonde in the corner caught her attention. She watched the girl punch numbers into a graphing calculator and smile triumphantly at what Emily figured was probably the correct solution. Emily sighed hopelessly. Whether it was a sigh relevant to her maths or something else... I wonder if we are in the same maths course. She doesn't look that familiar, does she? Then again, I haven't actually been to a maths lecture in ages.
Striking, gorgeous blue eyes stared back into Emily's tired brown ones, "Can I help you with something?" the girl snidely questioned. Fuck, I must be staring at her like a total dork. Emily shrugged uselessly and whispered an apology, unsure if her voice was actually loud enough to be heard. Even more hopelessly than before, she sighed again and attempted to hide her embarrassment by delving her focus back into her notes. Not that she actually had many decent notes; they were closer to an accumulation of messy scribbles from random students she had managed to copy from.
"In the first box enter the constant that should be added to the binomial so that it becomes a perfect square trinomial."
What ever happened to simple addition? I'm going to be stuck on this problem all night if I don't get someone to help me. I bet Blue-eyes will finish studying before that even happens. Emily briefly looked across the room, long enough to see Blue-eyes turn a page. She quickly looked away to avoid getting caught a second time like a total creep. Focus, Emily...
"In the box on the right-hand side enter the binomial that when squared, equals the trinomial on the left-hand side."
How am I supposed to figure out a trinomial if I don't get binomials? Seriously, maths should be left to the people who like it. JJ would be able to figure this out; he loves his numbers. Maybe Blue-eyes likes maths too. Fucking hell, maybe if she would stop smiling to herself like she's a fucking genius then she wouldn't have caught me staring at her. I bet she has no friends and just studies all day to be so smart. Must be shit. Friendless. Sucks to be her. Emily looked at her scribbled notes. Sucks to be me.
A few minutes slowly passed. Emily chanced another look. She found herself biting back a smile, strangely enjoying the sight of the blonde's eyebrows sharply slanting downward, nose scrunched, all while the blonde chewed her lower lip in deep concentration. Not so easy, is it now? Emily flipped the page of her own textbook to a more challenging problem, wondering if they were looking at the same one now. Fuck. You're joking right? Emily was shocked once again into acknowledgement that her failure was inevitable. Problem was, she literally could not afford to fail the class; if she failed any of her courses she would lose her scholarship. Frustrated, she slammed her book shut, shoved it in her patchy red backpack, and threw the straps over her shoulders.
"Where are you going, stalker?" Emily turned away from the door she had begun storming off through to see now she was being watched. For a second she thought she heard sadness or maybe genuine interest in Blue-eyes' voice but then remembered the girl had been rude to her before. Did she just call me a stalker?
"I'm sorry, judging by your attitude you seem like the last person my whereabouts would make a difference to," Emily snarled, "and for the record, I've never seen you before, so the conceited idea that I'm stalking you is ridiculous." She leaned against the open door with one foot in and one foot out of the room, prepared to leave. They were the only ones in the basement lounge; there was no crowd to encourage, or discourage her, really, from returning the unnecessary unfriendly attitude, just her conscience that currently, was mocking her.
Ignoring the first thing Emily said in regard to her demeanor, the blonde put down her pencil and challenged her, "Isn't that the idea behind stalking? Not knowing someone but staring at them as if it would reveal something personal?" Blue-eyes confidently smirked.
"I looked at you once. I was spaced out. Honey, your body's not that special," Emily did a dramatic once-over that caused the blonde cheeks to redden, "I have no reason to stalk you." Emily sighed. Why am I even bothering?
"Oh but you do know me, you know, at least, superficially."
Whoa, are you actually angry? What the fuck are you on about? Mental, maybe. "Sorry?"
"Yeah, you've been staring at me every maths lecture you've been to. Maybe if you looked at my face instead of my tits once in a while you would know I caught you the first time you stared at me, quite a few lectures ago," Ahh, annoyed. Shifting uncomfortably, Emily's gaze lowered from the intense, confrontational glare until she saw the brown notebook she had previously been familiarized with on the table in front of the blonde. Suddenly, all the memories clicked and Emily laughed. Oh fuck, you're right. "What?" The blonde was not clued into Emily's realization.
"I wasn't staring at you, I was co-," Emily hesitated to admit she had not even asked to copy them for a moment,"-I was actually trying to copy your notes."
Blue-eyes quickly blushed, completely embarrassed by the counterargument that was much more logical than her presumptuous one. She was not even sure why she thought a girl would be consistently checking her out anyway, and felt silly thinking about it further. All Blue-eyes could manage was repetition, "What?" She feigned confusion, buying herself time for figuring out a way to come out on top or at least hide her own stupidity.
"See for yourself," Emily shrugged off one shoulder strap of her backpack so it slid in front of her chest enough to pull out her maths notebook. She flipped it open to a specific page of scribbled notes and handed it to Blue-eyes, remembering the last time she went to class.
Emily had been mindlessly doodling stick figures, butterflies, and giant monkeys across the page, when the sound of chalk against the board was accompanied by the boring voice of the course instructor. She turned her notebook to a clean page and tried to copy down what he was writing, but could not simultaneously pay attention enough to understand the information actually being taught.
After a while she started doodling again, until she decided she should at least have notes to attempt to teach herself the maths later. She nearly panicked when the instructor erased the board to move onto the next topic since she had not finished copying it. Her brown eyes searched the room to see if anyone else had been struggling but nearly everyone else seemed careless or focused. The people right beside her were texting or protectively blocking their notes as if it were an exam when she tried looking. The blonde a row down and slightly to the left seemed more focused than anyone - doing the problems on her own as the instructor was teaching them. It was actually rather perfect; the way the blonde was left-handed and leaned to her left as she wrote gave Emily a perfect view of the blonde's notes. Anytime she went to the maths lecture from then on, Emily made sure to sit behind the blonde's regular spot. In fact, at first Emily had only skipped if someone had taken her spot with the perfect view.
After a few weeks, still before the first exam, Emily noticed something new about the notes she was copying from. In the top right corner was the writer's name, "Naomi." Emily had subconsciously written it down while hurriedly copying the notes down in her own notebook. She quietly laughed at herself for making the silly mistake but did not bother erasing the other girl's name from her own page. Several days later she started to feel guilty. Now that the notes were labeled she felt like she was stealing any time she copied them. The impersonality of copying had made it okay to do so, but now she felt the need to ask permission. There was not a chance she would ask to copy from the blonde because that meant explaining she had been obnoxiously copying her notes for a while without having asked. Emily felt she would feel silly and stupid explaining to the girl that now that she knew her name, she felt like she had to ask permission. Was that normal? Emily didn't know. It was easier to just avoid the situation and not go to class.
"So not a stalker, just a thief," the blonde scoffed after flipping through a few pages. Emily had not only copied the problems, but all her personal side-notes - notes Naomi worked hard to come up with instead of simply stealing them from another student, that helped her find the solutions.
"Right," Emily took the notebook back; before the blonde could, in her anger, do something terrible to it, "sorry about that. I wanted to tell you but..."
"But you're a coward," the blonde grunted, "a coward and a thief," Naomi hated the idea of someone taking advantage of her, or "advantage of her stuff" without asking. Not that she honestly thought she would have shared them if Emily had asked. She was not one for any type of social interactions; after all, sharing something might be taken as a friendly gesture, which would lead to friendship, which would lead to obligations, which would interfere with her academics - something Naomi never allowed. She had managed without new friends up until now, so why risk changing? Which is exactly the reason why she was being such a bitch to Emily.
"Right then, I'll be off now, thanks Naomi." Emily shoved the notebook in her backpack and was throwing the strap back over her shoulder, about to exit.
"Wait!" The blonde chewed her lip indecisively, "I, um, I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" Emily was incredibly confused now; Naomi was acting incredibly hot and cold - completely unpredictable. She could not figure out exactly what Naomi was interested in, making Emily very uncomfortable with her decision to withhold from abruptly leaving.
"Yeah," Naomi looked away uncertainly, "for being a bit harsh." She knew she had been more than just "a bit harsh," but she was not willing to sacrifice her own pride more than she already had, and admit it.
Emily smiled for a second before eyeing the blonde suspiciously, "What's the catch?"
"What you don't think I can apologize without an agenda?" Naomi had genuinely apologized but she could not control her sarcasm or general habit of reverting to bitchiness when feeling defensive.
Leaning against the door again, Emily bluntly answered, "No," defiantly folding her arms over her chest.
"Fine." Defeated, Naomi dramatically released a heavy sigh out of the side of her mouth, a few strands of hair momentarily lifted from against her pale skin and off her blue eyes, "My notes were ruined in the rain, and now, your copy is the only version left. I've been working endlessly trying to get these problems done without them; it's nearly impossible, I can't remember any of my side-notes."
"Thought so," referring to the catch in Naomi's apology, it was Emily's turn to smirk triumphantly, "so you want to borrow mine?"
"They're not really yours."
"They arein my bag in my notebook, which I can leave with right now. As a matter of fact, I think I'm supposed to be meeti-"
"Jesus Christ! Can I please just borrow your fucking notes?" Naomi looked thoroughly pissed, causing Emily to laugh a little. She was starting to enjoy this girl's temper quite a bit.
"Well, since you asked so nicely, I think we can come to some sort of arrangement."
"Arrangement?" Naomi panicked, praying this was not going to cause her any more trouble than it already had. She was not sure if tolerating, let alone making any sort of arrangement with this annoying girl, was worth passing the first maths exam. Definitely not worth the odd thoughts she felt when Emily had genuinely smiled or laughed. She prepared to change her mind.
"You stop being mean and I'll share the notes with you."
Naomi let out a sigh of relief, "alright," nothing too crazy. Surely sharing could not be that bad. She assumed she could control their interactions so there would be no mixed messages - no friendship. She waited for Emily to hand her the notes for her turn with them, and instead watched the brunette walk back to the couch that she had originally been sitting on, behind her, "what are you doing?"
"The couch is much comfier," Emily said as though it were obvious.
"But all my stuff is here," Naomi did not want to move.
"And?"
Naomi recited a mantra to not be mean to this girl, even if she knew she was being provoked. Not because she liked Emily, or her bravery to challenge Naomi and not back down like most usually did, but because that was the only condition for the notes. It was almost like it was a contest whether or not the girl could get a rise out of Naomi, and Naomi refused to keep losing. She reminded herself that not being mean did not mean she had to be friendly. So the blonde neatly gathered her stuff from the isolated study-table and repositioned to sit beside the brunette.
The notebook was open on the cushions, separating them. Naomi's sore arse was secretly appreciating the difference between the couch cushions and hard stool she had already studied on for several hours. She opened her textbook and started to work in silence, ignoring the warmth she felt on her neck under the brown-eyed stare. After a while, Naomi accepted she could not concentrate and ignore Emily. She ended up raising her voice, "What?!"
"Truce?"
Five slender fingers were raised in her direction, catching Naomi off guard, allowing an unsettling feeling to erupt within her stomach. She looked up to see (an adorable) sincere smile change into one of confusion. She realized she had been looking at her dumbfounded, as if she had never seen a hand before. Clearing her throat in discomfort, Naomi felt obligated to quickly shake it, reminding herself to be gentle and chastising herself for noticing how soft the other girl's skin felt, "Um, yeah. Sure. Truce." We could be acquaintances, she thought, it's a lot of extra effort to be mean anyway - effort I should be putting into my work...
Satisfied, Emily pulled out the rest of her maths materials and started to work. It did not take long for a grimace to reappear on her face, the dislike exuding off her presence directed toward the textbook. She sighed. Sighed again. Flipped a page. Then sighed again.
Naomi rolled her eyes; someone was obviously trying to get her attention. She decided to comply because she had managed to get a few problems done in the nice hour or so of silence. "What's wrong?"
"I hate maths." Emily glared at her maths book as if it would come to life and cower away.
"It's not as if the rest of us like it," Naomi said. She had reasoned ages ago that whether or not you liked something was often irrelevant to whether or not you had to do it. At least, that was what helped her get past the stupidity of the most frustrating equations. Really, she had only acknowledged that piece of information after her Mum unhelpfully informed her during one particular poor evening that throwing her textbook through a second-story window into the carnation garden was not going to make it any less horrible.
"Yeah, well, we shouldn't have to take it then."
In a low voice, Naomi mimicked their maths instructor's frequent answer to frustrated students; "Oh, but maths is relevant to everything in life; without it we wouldn't be able to do anything, anything at all," while slowly raising her hands as if enlightened. Emily chuckled and Naomi laughed at herself a little too.
When the laughing stopped, Emily asked, "Nothing at all?"
Naomi responded in character, "No, nothing at all, Miss uh...?" she realized she didn't know the brunette's name.
"Fitch. Emily Fitch."
"Right, yes. Without maths we wouldn't be able to eat food or take naps-things I clearly must do far too often because I definitely don't have any time for hygienic practices." Their professor smelled so bad that most avoided the front row like they would suffer a fatality. "That's right, maths is like lifestyle, see, you can't let nothin' get in the way. It's the only lifestyle, really. You can't say you've truly lived without knowing how many spiders Mr. Potts has if he starts with five and kills three, ignoring the fact that the other two could have died of natural causes, which really means the world isn't as black and white as maths makes it. That's why you must study for your first exam, no matter how frustrating, if you want to live right, Miss... Fitch." Naomi tried to hold a straight face during the seconds of silence between them but they simultaneously burst out laughing. Aside from the whole rant and genuine encouragement at the end of it, Naomi's voice impression was obviously terrible and ridiculous, sending them deeper into their fits of laughter.
Naomi felt light, almost like she was floating when Emily laughed. She wondered if she was actually funny or if she had just been laughed at. Her impression was unrehearsed, making her slightly self-conscious. As the laughter subsided, so did her ease. Fortunately, Emily was quick to distract her from old insecurities, "So... what do you like?"
Naomi realized she was starting to lose control over the social interaction. She was beginning to feel nervous about how conflicted she felt, sharing personal things. For fuck's sake, she now knew the girl's name and told a joke - completely out of character for her and unacceptable. "I like writing," she kept her answer brief.
But Emily did not plan on allowing Naomi's serious and distant tone to take over the mood. She probed further, "Yeah? What kind of writing?"
"Boring stuff." Firm, but unsuccessful.
Hot and cold again, eh? "I don't think it would be boring, if you let me read it."
"How would you know?" Almost, Naomi thought, just stand your ground and she'll give up-you're stronger than her. Naomi prided herself on her ability to be so easily intimidating.
"I don't, but..."
"But?"
"Nothing," Emily voice grew quiet again. Fine then.
The silence grew awkward and they both returned to reading their textbooks. Naomi was unsure if she was victorious. She tried to busy herself with equations, quieting the rebellious emotions that wondered whether she had hurt Emily. She peeked at the brunette through the corner of her eye, slightly amused that now she was the one doing all the looking. Naomi quickly returned to looking at her textbook when her annoying thoughts were confirmed; Emily had looked defeated. After only the few hours Naomi had known the girl, she already felt she could assume it was unnatural how ingrained in maths Emily seemed. It had been nearly thirty difficult minutes of this... whatever this was.
Naomi habitually cleared her throat and daringly broke the silence, "I like journalism..." She looked to Emily who had put down her pencil and was looking at her curiously, "I'm a very passionate feminist and liberal activist. I write about public injustice and inspiring protestors."
"Sounds interesting." Emily smiled brightly.
Naomi smiled too. The way Emily had said it was genuine - not like she had intended to emphasize Naomi's inexplicable mean behavior before - her insistence that her writing was boring until the brunette dropped it entirely. Now was her chance to sort of apologize without apologizing, not that she consciously knew why she was doing so. "Thanks," she cleared her throat and turned her body slightly more towards Emily. "So, um, what do you like?"
"Well, aside from loving maths, I enjoy painting and photography. I also love animals a lot, but I think it would be a lot easier to just get a puppy and a kitten instead of becoming a zoologist, picking up elephant shit," she chuckled. Naomi really, really liked her laugh, returning an unrestrained smile for the first time.
"You know you would still have to pick up shit if you got a puppy and kitten?" The blonde smirked.
"Yeah, but they would make up for it by being all cute and stuff."
"They're not tiny forever, you know."
"You sound like you have a grudge against cute, cuddly, little animals."
"Yes, well maybe if I hadn't been chased by a pack of the horrendous creatures you call cute and cuddly then I wouldn't sound like I have a very, very valid grudge against them." Naomi knew she was exaggerating, just a bit, but remained adamant about her opinion.
"I bet it was hardly as awful as you're making it sound," Emily challenged. She was interested in hearing the elaborated version of the story. The blonde fell right into her trap, so to speak, happy to exaggerate her story further.
"It started out as a bright and shiny day... I felt like I could conquer the world," Naomi started.
"Wow, is this going to be a novel, Miss Journalist?" Emily laughed.
"Do you want to hear the story or not?" Naomi feigned annoyance even though she did not actually mind Emily's teasing. "Besides, novelists and journalists are very different types of writers, Miss Impatient. If you don't want to listen to the full story without interrupting and objecting, then I won't tell it."
"Alright, alright, I'll keep quiet," Emily was after all, very curious and already entertained by the girl's extreme opinion on her favorite pets.
"Very good," Naomi said amusedly, as if Emily were an over-excitable child promising to be patient and calm until she finished.
"As I was saying... it started out as a glorious morning. I had eaten breakfast, something I rarely do, even though I believe in its healthy benefits." She was going to draw out this story - make it super climatic, knowing her ending was anything but legitimately serious. "I had said goodbye to my Mum when the day began to turn for the worse. I stepped out the door and realized I had accidentally left my bike out in the rain the night before. The sun had not dried the seat out and I don't like public transportation-frankly, I don't know many who do; the people that use it are often smelly, rude, drunk, or a combination of the three-" Emily opened her mouth to likely object to Naomi's intentional irrelevance and provocation, but Emily knowingly closed her mouth when Naomi smirked and continued, "leaving me with no other choice but to walk to college. I rarely walked to college then because it was a ten-minute walk and I had calculated that I could allow myself five minutes of extra sleep if I took the bike instead."
Naomi could tell Emily was withholding laughter at how ridiculous her sidetracking was becoming. Naomi wanted to keep talking forever if it meant Emily would keep smiling so cutely. Keep her silent, not cute; Naomi's mind corrected the unwanted thought. "Meaning, I had not allowed myself the extra five minutes I needed to walk because I had intended to bike, so I was going to be late... As I began my walk I noticed there was construction on my usual route, probably because the weather was nice, no longer the usual - rainy and total shit.
With the wonderfully convenient construction going on, I needed to change my usual route, expecting an additional five minutes of lateness. I half-walked-half-ran through the residential area, ignoring the judgmental stares from the elderly neighbors - they always thought anything youthful was off to have a dick wedged between their legs, which is rather ironic after some of the things I accidentally stumbled upon during one desperate summer job, but that's a story for another time... so half-walking-half-running, I figured I could decrease my tardiness by cutting through someone's yard. Little did I know there was a pack of treacherous creatures waiting just behind the backyard fence, practically waiting to kill m-"
Emily could not stop herself, "And exactly what kind of creatures were they?"
"Ignoring your interruption, I'd suppose they were dogs. S-"
"What kind of dogs?"
"I don't know, does it matter?"
"Of course."
"Well, if you want to be all technical, they were some kind of hound."
"Bloodhound?"
"Oh god no! Those sound dreadful. It's even in their name, Emily! I hardly imagine a bloodhound could be friendly even if it were tiny. I think they were, uh... basset hounds."
"Naomi, you do realize you could easily outrun a basset hound. They have tiny legs and big bodies. You're like a motherfucking cheetah compared to one."
"Yes, well maybe I heard the owner wrong or my head was already acting up after I told him off for keeping his dogs off leashes, after they had chased me into a wall hard enough to get a debatably mild, serious, seriously mild, err, mildly serious concussion."
"In his own backyard."
"What? Well, I hardly imagine he would put his dogs in someone else's backyard. That would be bizarre," Naomi answered, as if she did not know what Emily was pointing out or that she herself was the bizarre one at the moment.
"They shouldn't have to be on leashes in their owner's backyard - they were fenced in! And you probably shouldn't have been in his yard in the first place," Emily laughed at the absurdity and the image of a flustered Naomi in the presence of adorable basset hounds.
"Yeah, but there were like, two of them! They could have easily piled up and jumped the fence. Pure, malicious intent has no restraint! Honestly, it just shows irresponsibility on his part; I should have called the Humane Society on him, showing no consideration or regard for their potential danger against the innocent likes of me, or any other poor soul that could have stumbled upon them." Naomi fought to keep her straight face and hold her laughter in. Her exaggeration knew no boundaries.
"Two of them? That's what you call a pack?! That's hardly any dogs at all, aside from how ridiculous and impossible it would be for them to 'pile up and jump the fence,'" Emily laughed.
"Emily, you're being insensitive to my traumatic experience," Naomi responded, seriously.
"Sorry, Naomi. I'm sure it was... very scary."
To the blonde's surprise, Emily had sounded sincerely apologetic. Realizing Emily was of the gullible type and feeling guilty for abusing her talent of straight-faced humor, Naomi confessed, "It wasn't that bad. I got lots of useless things like teddy-bears and flowers, and my Mum made me plenty of her amazing chicken soup, even though having a mildly-serious, err, seriously-mild concussion is entirely different from having the flu... It was a good vacation which left me with a great battle story," she said positively, managing to return Emily's sympathy to amusement.
"I thought you were actually traumatized," the brunette lightly punched the blonde's shoulder. Neither gave the physical contact a second thought as if they were long-time friends.
"Yeah, well, I thought you weren't as gullible as a four-year-old that believes in Santa and the Tooth Fairy. Do you think there's monsters under the bed too?" Smirk.
"Oi! Mean! That's it! I'm taking these notes and leaving," Emily closed her textbook, grabbed the notebook from between them and piled them on top of each other then started putting them into her bag.
"Wait, stop, I'm sorry!" Naomi reached over to try and stop Emily from leaving, shocked to see a tricky smile turning back at her. "Oh, you bitch."
"You started it," Emily chuckled.
"I can't believe you fooled me," Naomi crossed her arms.
"Should I leave you to cry about it?"
"Maybe," she grumbled, avoiding eye contact so as not to smile.
"Hmm, then again, watching you cry might be funny."
"Oh, you're terrible."
"Ya think so?"
Naomi thought for a moment, "No. I think you're pretty nice." She suddenly felt extremely vulnerable for unintentionally, openly saying something so kind amidst all their teasing.
"Ya think?" Emily asked very quietly and blushed. Truth be told, it was more of a thought - something she had not meant to say out loud.
Naomi's chest felt heavy, wondering if Emily was insecure, wondering what could have made such a cool person so insecure. She reminded herself she only knew the girl for a few hours and it was silly to think such deep things about someone else. Naomi pretended she didn't hear the question and that she had said something nice, "You know, it's getting rather late. I think we should head off to bed," Emily's eyes widened, "I mean you in your bed, me in my bed. In our own bed - beds, separately. Go home and sleep. Leave now and yeah, okay, I'm just going to silently pack my things now." Naomi inwardly cursed herself for being so inarticulate.
What the fuck? What. The. Fuck. That was weird. I'm not gay. She is gorgeous... beautiful blue eyes, soft hands, pretty blonde ha - No, Emily, people do not think about their friends like that. Act cool. Be cool. Do not think about her hands. Whatever you do, do not think about her hands. Or her eyes. Do not think about her. Just pretend she isn't even there. Fucking shit, that would not be normal either. Emily embarrassedly avoided eye contact, as if looking into her eyes would reveal her internal conversation. As if her voice and hands were beyond her control she started writing on a piece of paper and talking to the flustered Naomi. "Here's my number... in case you need the notes again." Perfect. That sounded normal, right?
Naomi cleared her throat and took the paper, shoving it into her pocket, "Solid. See you in maths..." She didn't want to come off entirely as cold as she had before even if she was the one leaving abruptly now so she threw in their new inside joke, "Stalker." The blonde lifted her jean over-sized bag, covered in button-pins of various quotes and signs, onto her shoulder and strutted out the room without a backwards glance, leaving Emily to her thoughts.
End note: Hey guys! Thanks for reading. Sorry 'bout that small cliffhanger there. Let me know your thoughts in the reviews; your support is always the best motivation. Have a lovely day. Was there enough snark in there? haha.