A/N: Two of nine. Please take a moment to leave me a comment. They really do inspire me to keep on writing.


02. Love and Affection

I just don't understand why my love isn't good enough.

I just don't understand why my love isn't good enough for you.

I want you to show me love and affection.

Emily thinks it's ridiculous, really; she's just as good as anyone else, and certainly better than any guy (and why anyone would want someone with a cock is just beyond her comprehension, because they're well disgusting), especially fucking Cook of all people. How can Naomi think that he's better than she is? He's Cook, for fuck's sake; he's immature, he tries to fuck every girl he sees and all he wants to do is go out and get wasted every single night. She doesn't know how anyone in their group of friends can stand being around him, actually. But Emily's definitely better than him. So why isn't that enough? Why does Naomi always have to fucking shove her to the ground; reel her in only to block her off and throw her back into the abyss?

And then they'd made love by the lake and she'd gone and done whatever with Cook. Fucking Cook.

She'll stay. She'll always stay. She doesn't follow Naomi around like a lost puppy like she's more or less forced to do with Katie, but she's always watching. Which is kind of creepy now that she's actually thinking about it. But it's not her fault that Naomi's so stalkable.

Sometimes, Emily thinks she catches Naomi glancing at her out of the corner of her eye, but if she turns her head to meet the other girl's eyes, Naomi turns away again and Emily argues with herself over whether she imagined it all or not.

Naomi is frustrating, Emily concludes. She's frustrating and irritating and most of the time Emily feels like she's barking up entirely the wrong tree. But she knows Naomi wants her. She knows. She didn't miss the emotions flowing through the blonde's eyes like the floodgates that held them back had burst open.

She thinks about her at night as she's trying to sleep, or waiting up for Katie to text her so she'll go down and unlock the front door. She'll imagine waking up and getting ready and when she steps outside Naomi is waiting at the edge of the path up to the house with a smile on her face and they hold hands on their way to school and Naomi will kiss her and won't be afraid of what people think, and won't be using Emily as a kind of experiment. She'll think about various dates they'd go on; picnics in the park, romantic candlelight dinners, days on the town.

(Not all of her thoughts are that innocent of course.)

Emily saves those for when she knows Katie won't be coming home, or her sister is deep asleep on the other side of the room, and she'll slide her hand beneath the elastic of her knickers into the warm wetness that settles there when she stares at Naomi's neck for too long, or her eyes travel up the length of the blonde's legs to where they disappear under her skirt and she'll remember how soft the blonde's skin feels, and map out the hills and valleys and curves and planes of Naomi's body (her territory, no one else's; Naomi is hers in her dreams, even if she's not in reality) with her fingertips and palms and lips and tongue and teeth. And her body will shudder as Naomi's eyes (blue, so blue) appear in the darkness above her bed and she'll see the way Naomi's hair had fallen into her face as she'd kissed her way back up Emily's stomach that night at the lake, and she'll have to bite her lip to keep herself quiet.

She's good enough, she really is, and she wishes Naomi wasn't so inclined to run each time the redhead thinks they might be getting somewhere.