AUTHOR'S NOTE!

This chapter is told from Naomi's POV and covers the scenes from her being offered a lift home by Kieran up to Emily being asked to stay by Naomi after initially being snubbed by her. Any reviews will be most welcome!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I left the college building still pissed off with Cook after our latest war of words and battle of wills. It seemed like he was deadly serious about standing for president which had to be the biggest joke of the year – even more ridiculous than the idea of me running for the job. What had added insult to injury was that he had come out of the registration room only to find me sprawled all over the floor, legs akimbo and in a totally undignified and unladylike position. I had made a complete twat of myself by falling down from the boxes I had climbed up on to try to look inside the room to see who was in there.

Naturally Cook wasn't one to pass up an easy, heaven-sent opportunity to take the piss and embarrass me so obviously he had to point out that he could see my knickers, which infuriated me even more than I already was with him. We exchanged a few predictable insults about him standing for president and me fighting him off from 'making me feel alright' before I walked out on him. At least in doing so I had the presence of mind to give him the finger to show my complete contempt for him and his ridiculous attempts at flirting with me in an effort to get off with me.

The guy really does appear to have the most enormously inflated ego and laughably high opinion of himself as some kind of irresistible Casanova, at whose feet all the girls are supposed to swoon, begging to be the latest in his long line of conquests. Well, he doesn't impress me one iota. I'm certainly not going to be fooled by his bullshit, no matter how hard he tries. I've heard all his pathetic chat up lines many times before and they sound just as tired and weak coming from him as they did coming from every other guy who's trotted them out in the past.

I had made my way over to the bike sheds and car park area where I had left my bike this morning when I ran into Kieran again. He was standing by his car and I had the impression he had been sort of hanging around waiting for me because as I approached he immediately turned round and asked me if I wanted a lift home, to save me having to use my bike.

I was rather taken aback by his question – it was the first time he had ever offered to run me home- and for a brief moment or two I couldn't help wondering what his motives might have been. Okay, I really liked him as a teacher and I suppose you could say we got on pretty well as 'mates' but that was as far as it went – for me, anyway. But I quickly dismissed my initial suspicions. He's only offering you a lift home, for God's sake. Stop reading too much into it, girl! So I accepted his offer.

Of course that was before I had had the benefit of a closer inspection of his car, if car is what it really was. It would be more accurate to describe it as a motorised, rust-covered, multi-dented, metal contraption whose primary purpose was a people carrier but which looked like it might collapse into pieces if anyone actually sat in it for any length of time, let alone attempted to drive in it. It appeared to have all the solidity and sturdiness of a fruit trifle and doubtless it could only achieve a top speed of twenty-five miles an hour in a following wind.

Kieran tried to open the passenger door for me but gave up after a couple of fruitless tugs at the handle. He ran round to the driver's side, got in the car and proceeded to hammer at the door several times with his feet as he fully stretched himself out on the seats before the battered old door finally relented to this punishment and flew open. I don't know why this particular thought came into my mind but I couldn't help thinking that as a potential shag-wagon it really was a non-starter- in more ways than one.

I climbed inside and discovered fractionally too late what Kieran meant when he said 'Mind the spring' as a sharp pricking sensation passed right up my jacksy as I nervously sat down on my seat. As Kieran furiously tried turning on the ignition, becoming more frustrated with each feverish attempt to get it going, I couldn't help passing comment on this useless heap of metal we were sitting in.

'This is some automobile you've got here.' He readily acknowledged the fact by joking that it had cost him £2.50 plus three tokens from the top of Weetabix packets to which I replied that I really could believe that. After a few more desperate attempts to get the thing going, which only succeeded in making him go redder in the face with the effort he finally admitted defeat and asked me if I could give him a lift on my bike. He's got a great sense of humour and I couldn't help laughing at the glorious comedy of his request.

So out we got, I went and fetched my bike and we set off together on foot as Kieran pushed my bike for me and I walked along beside him. We must have looked a right odd couple to anyone watching us but I found I really liked his company and the fact that we weren't riding home in his battered old car didn't make me enjoy the journey home any less. We chatted about all sorts of things during our slow, relaxed walk home but as we got nearer to my house the conversation turned to the college director's announcement that morning about the student president election.

Kieran explained it was all part of the college's love note to OFSTED and that it would make us look good to have a student president. He let me into a secret that he had actually run for office once upon time in his dim and distant past. Apparently he stood in the Bristol City Council elections as the Workers Unite candidate over ten years ago. He said he got six votes of which three were from people he actually knew!

That made me laugh and it struck me how easy he was to listen to and talk to. He was funny, interesting and a cool guy to boot. In fact he was so much more fun to be with than any of the boys at the college who I'd come across so far – not that that was saying much, to be honest. They were a singularly dull, uninspiring bunch of masculinity and Kieran had more charisma and charm in his little finger than the rest of them would ever acquire in their lifetimes.

He went on to confess that after his spectacular political 'success', he decided to become a teacher and devote his life to shaping the young minds of tomorrow, only to discover to his horror that his students didn't actually have any minds, just mild jangling things between their ears. This sentiment I could definitely sympathise with.

What I had seen of my fellow sixth form students to date didn't exactly reveal any obvious signs of great intellect and imagination.

As we came to a halt outside my house, Kieran looked at me, reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a student president application form which he held out to me and said 'I really think you should stand.'

I was mildly shocked at his suggestion which came right out of the blue and could only reply feebly 'What? Why?'

'Come on, you're the best. We both know it.'

I couldn't help feeling incredibly flattered by the praise he was lavishing upon me – what girl wouldn't like having their ego massaged like that by anyone, let alone the nicest guy in the whole college.

'Is that a compliment? Are you complimenting me?' I asked in a manner that I suppose, with the benefit of hindsight, might have appeared a touch flirtatious, but I was genuinely touched by his praise and wanted to let him know how grateful I was for this unexpected vote of confidence he had just given me.

'Oh I've got a few compliments in me, 'he replied with his typical Irish understated charm. But he then seemed suddenly distracted by something going on over my shoulder, which was confirmed when he asked me half seriously, half jokingly. 'Is it my drug problem or is someone waving at that window?'

I turned round to see with horror that my Mum was standing at the front window, smiling and waving at us like a complete idiot. I couldn't stop myself from blurting out how totally embarrassing I thought she was and I covered my head with my hands in shame, unable to bring myself to look at her again. Kieran said he wanted to meet her but I flatly refused to entertain the idea of inviting him in and introducing him to her. Christ knows what an utter disaster that would have been! I dread to think what things she would have told him about me!

I said goodbye and made towards the house, only to have second (or possibly even third) thoughts, turned right round and went back to where he was still standing and took the application form from his hand, muttering thanks to him before this time heading for the front door. The poor guy did look a bit bemused by my strange actions and continued to stand on the pavement watching in silence as I parked my bike and went in through the front door. I'm usually very decisive and know my mind quite clearly but on this occasion something, maybe some strange voice inside my head, was telling me to take the application form, even if it was just to read it and pretend to fill it in – only for something to do, obviously!

As I entered the house the bearded guy who I'd woken up with that morning and the woman who saw bananas as some kind of symbol of male domination were having a stand up row in the hallway. More and more I was feeling like a complete stranger in my own house. This motley collection of social misfits, waifs and strays had well and truly taken over the asylum that used to be my home and I was feeling increasingly marginalised day by day. My mother's obsession with communal living and 'back to nature' approach to life was grating on me and this scene that confronted me now when I arrived home didn't exactly improve my already flaky mood.

I became even more irritated and frustrated when Mum immediately started making comments about Kieran who she'd seen talking to me outside. It felt like I was being interrogated as soon as I walked in and that I was under some kind of Big Brother surveillance where all my actions were being monitored in minute detail. Even when I told her he wasn't some new boyfriend but my politics teacher, she still wouldn't let it rest.

'OK. I was just saying. It's nice to see you with a guy, it makes a change!' she said, smiling sweetly at me in that infuriating way of hers.

'What was that supposed to mean?' I thought. What are you trying to imply? That I'm gay? You really don't know what you're talking about, Mum. You are completely out of touch with reality and you don't even know your own daughter any more! All these criticisms I left unsaid as I stormed away from her after she'd told me that someone had stolen the television from my room. Jesus! Why don't I just offer them the shirt off my back as well and have done with it? I felt like I didn't belong here any more. It was more their house than mine.

I stomped into my bedroom, still cursing out loud at the impossibility of getting any peace and quiet in the place, only to find when I opened the door that I already had a visitor, calmly sitting on the bed waiting for me. Who else could it have been but Emily, my very own personal stalker and number one obsessive fan? She turned her big brown eyes on me as I stood in the doorway as if she was half afraid at what my reaction to her being there would be. I admit my first words to her could have been a bit more polite but my frustrations with life just boiled over as I sighed in exasperation and bluntly asked her 'How did you get in here?'

She explained that some weird guy who looked like Jesus had let her in which figured. That was the guy who I'd unwittingly shared a bed with last night and who seemed to have taken on the alpha male role in the house – as if we fucking needed one! As I pointed out to Emily it was fast becoming like a Christ-themed game of Guess Who around here. Why had she come round to see me? This was the first time she'd actually stalked me from inside my own house so she had to have a good reason to be here.

'What do you want?' I asked, equally bluntly and without a hint of warmth in my tone of voice. I just wasn't in the mood for nicey-nicey conversation. When she replied that she had just come to give me an application form for student president I had to laugh inwardly. She was fucking relentless, I couldn't deny it. She had spent the whole morning trying to persuade me to stand even though I had made it perfectly clear I wasn't remotely interested in the idea and yet she still hadn't given up hope of getting me to change my mind. I had to award her ten out of ten for determination and persistence!

I contented myself with saying 'You're very annoying,' which I suppose, in the circumstances, given the foul mood I was in, wasn't half as bad as it could have been.

'Yeah, well, you seem to inspire it in me,' she replied with a half smile and more than a touch of self-deprecating humour. Somehow that one little joke at both our expenses seemed to break the ice and I mellowed a bit.

'Jinx,' I said putting down on the bed next to hers my copy of the form which I had taken from Kieran.

'You're going to run. Great! I'll help you with the form.' She had clearly made my mind up for me already and had decided also that I wasn't capable of filling out a simple form without her valuable input. Fuck me! This girl was trying to take over my entire life, just like everyone else was. I wasn't having it, a point which I forcibly made very directly and, I'm almost ashamed to say, without a word of appreciation or gratitude.

'No, Emily. I don't need any help.' I looked at her calmly with a blank expression on my face which I hoped would make her realise that to argue further with me would be pointless and a waste of time. She looked mildly disappointed but hardly crushed as I thought she might be and merely said 'Right. OK. Well, see you,' in a resigned, matter-of-fact kind of voice and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

For once she had surprised me. In fact I was a bit stunned by her quiet, casual departure. I had expected more protests, entreaties and desperate attempts to change my mind but no. Nothing but a simple acceptance of my firm declining of her offer. I was gobsmacked and, if I'm honest with myself, more than a touch hurt and disappointed by her reaction. For some reason, even though I had become seriously irritated by her persistent hanging around me recently I felt far more hurt when she gave the impression of not caring about me as, in a sense, she had done just now. Why was it that I didn't want her to be so obsessive about being my friend and yet I didn't like it at all when she behaved as if being my friend was no big deal? I was confused and couldn't explain this apparent contradiction in my feelings towards Emily.

I hadn't moved from my position as these thoughts and feeling were flying around inside me when after a few seconds the door suddenly flew open and there was Emily standing in the doorway. This time she was no longer calm, resigned and casual in her reaction. This time she spoke with real feeling and emotion and she stared deep into my eyes as she made her impassioned speech.

'Just so you know, my first thought when I see you is not 'I want to fuck that girl!'

I was shocked at the brutal honesty and imagery of her remarks as well as the manner in which they were delivered. My eyes opened wide in surprise as I started to reply, 'No, I…' but she was in full flow and wasn't going to let me interrupt her before she'd finished saying what she had come back to say.

'We've kissed. Twice. It was nice but it's also nice just being with you…..when you're not being a prick, that is!!'

I pondered her words for a second or too as she had seemingly stopped to see what my reaction would be and all I could think to say was a rather limp and unconvincing 'Thanks.' I felt a mixture of emotions after what she'd said – happy, sad, ashamed, embarrassed, confused. In short, I was experiencing a real hotchpotch of contrasting feelings which I had to try to pick the bones out of somehow. But Emily hadn't quite finished yet; she had one final point to make.

'I think you should run for president because I think you'd be good at it. It's that simple, okay?'

Fair enough, I thought. That's pretty clear cut. Maybe I've misjudged her on the issue of the presidency thing. I had assumed she was just using it as an excuse to get to be my friend but it would seem she really does believe I would make a good president and is one hundred percent behind me, with 'no strings attached'. I felt really sorry about the way I had treated her generally and in particular the way I had spoken to her since I found her in my room. I knew I had to begin to make amends right away.

'OK. Then you should…..stay.' I said hesitantly and nervously, unsure how she would react to this intended olive branch.

'Thanks,' she said, looking at me with no discernible emotion betrayed on her delicate round face. 'I will.' She closed the door softly behind her and moved over to sit on the bed as I watched her in silence.

I was glad she had taken accepted my 'apology' and had agreed to stay. I didn't know how the rest of the day was going to develop between us, how long she was going to stay but I was happy just to see how things went. It seemed as if certain feelings which had been kept hidden inside us had now been brought out into the open and in a way I reckoned that was probably a good thing. These things had needed to be said for Emily and me to be able to 'move forward' with our 'relationship' or friendship' – I still didn't quite know how to describe it. Maybe we could now start afresh with a clean slate and with no preconceptions about each other. Let's just see what happens.