A/N: Hello, lovelies! I'm updating so soon because I just got some more reviews, and nearly pissed myself. I also saw how many views I got for my story: 229 people looked at my story! And people from Belguim, the UK, the US, Mexico! So many places, it flatters me! Keep going you guys, it makes me so happy! Literally. When authors say they love getting reviews, I now have an addiction, the feeling that you get when someone says they like your work and it has potential, you want to find your grandmother, and have a go at her because it's so exciting! Sorry – I did make quite the few mistakes in the last chapter, I was so happy and excited to post it, I didn't bother proof-reading, but I will with this chap so no worries. Also, sorry the link doesn't work for that picture! But, you lot can carry on still, right? Cool! Anyway, here's chapter two, you lovely, lovely peasants. Also, if you're worried about Emily, don't worry, she'll have the next chapter or the chapter after that in her own POV, and we'll hear about what she thinks of Naomi and all that. (I apologize for the Gina interaction, I was trying to be as realistic as possible with her voice… so, carry on with Gina? Yes? No? Please review, it makes me so happy!
DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Skins, neither do I condone any harm towards the elderly. I have a potato and a keyboard. Safe driving! (No, I don't own Skins)
Previously:
"Can I help you with something?" a husky tone questions.
She takes another gentle step toward me and I immediately look at my feet.
"Hmm? Uh, no, I uh… I, erm, wasn't looking at you. I don't think I was. No! No, I know I wasn't," She quirks an eyebrow at me and puts the hand that isn't holding the milk onto her hip. That's quite fucking cute. "Are you sure? I thought I just saw you giving me a rumble with your eyes."
"Well… I was just, uh, wondering about your hair…" Don't get mad at me, that wasn't fully a lie, but it wasn't all the truth, either. I'm just interested in her. So why is she making me vocally shit bricks?
"Yeah, I get that a lot." Oh, fuck, have I offended her?
"Yeah, look, I'm sorry. I've got to be… erm, buying some rhubarb and uh… Weetabix. Not that I like Weetabix, though. I mean if you like it I like it. No! That sounds…"
She laughs lightly, and the goose bumps that appear on my bare arm are not from the freezing refrigerators holding all the milk. It's her laughter. She studies me a bit.
"Who buys Weetabix and rhubarb at this hour?"
"My gran, she wants me to buy her the lot so she can make casserole," that lie comes streaming out of my mouth like someone being sick. Worst of all, my lie stank like it, as well.
"That's nice."
"I better get going."
"But-"
"Sorry, my gran's gonna have a massive fit if I don't!" My back is already turned away from her and I'm about to turn a corner when she screams, "You forgot your milk!" I stop dead center in my tracks. Shit, I didn't even buy anything, now she's gonna think I'm some sort of flustered offender. Dear God, why, why, why? I pace a few aisles, quickly grabbing some rhubarb and a box of Weetabix. God, I'm lonely. I should just buy a fucking cat. I rub my hand exhaustedly over my forehead and get into the checkout line. To the next one, just rows away, I can see her. Oh, fuck! Please don't look over here, please don't look. She looks. Somebody. Kill. Me. Now! "Next person in line, please," The call of the cashier makes me tear my gaze away from the redhead, and while she is scanning my items, I throw a quick glance at her, only to find she is doing the same to me. I blush furiously and take out my wallet. "That'll be £8.60," I reach into my wallet and hand her the money. A woman briskly pushes past me, and places a gallon of milk on the black conveyor belt and when I look up to ask what she'd doing after handing the woman a few pound notes, she's gone. I look at the galloon of milk and gasp when I see what is written on it. "EMILY," is written in thick, black Sharpie, capitalized handwriting, and I quickly grab my groceries and head out to my car. Unfortunately when I am outside, in the parking lot, there is no blue SUV, or small, fragile looking crimson woman, with the shocking coffee eyes. She left. I stop staring at where her car was and open up the door to mine, climbing in and setting the milk in the passenger seat. Emily. Her name is Emily. I want to know more about the redhead. If I wasn't such a chicken shit, I would have asked, but, that would have sounded a bit creepy. Oh well. Maybe you'll see her tomorrow?
N+E+N+E+N+E+N+E+N+E+N+E
It's been two days since I've seen Emily and the milk in my fridge goes untouched, my fear growing that if I even touch the carton again, all her elegance will vanish from it. But then again, I need to get my shit sorted. I'm going crazy. Thursday was the last time I saw her, and today is Saturday. Maybe I should go back to Tesco's. Maybe she'll be there. Maybe she'll be waiting there, ruby hair showing and all. Eyebrow arched. No, don't be stupid. She probably thinks you're minging. I lay tattered in my bed, and look at the clock again. 9.25 PM. Come on, Naomi Campbell. If you want to see her, she might be at Tesco's. This is only a minute after I got out of bed Thursday, and saw her in the store. I get up, throw on some more black tights, a black cardigan, a blue FILTHY STOPS AND STARTS t-shirt, some small black shorts, blue Converse high tops, and I slip a ring on my finger. As if I wasn't wearing the same fucking outfit the last time I saw her, I think to myself.
N+E+N+E+N+E+N+E+N+E+N+E
I don't see her driving to the store; I don't see her when I park. I don't see her in the milk aisle, and I don't see her when she taps me on the shoulder. I look at her. Eyeing her while I cough out a faint, "Hi."
"Hey." She says. She's not nearly as nervous as me. Actually, she looks pretty fucking chilled.
"Thank you, for the uh, milk. If that was you."
She smiles at me. And God, does it make me feel great when her mouth turns into a grin. I shiver. Because of her. She makes me feel this way. Her. Emily.
"So, Emily is it?"
"Yeah, Emily. Sorry, you hadn't got your milk, and I felt like I was distracting you or something."
"No, it's fine. I was just in a rush, gran doesn't like me to twit about."
"Oh." She looked a bit offended when I said that.
"But, you're lovely… and definitely not a twit. I mean, if anyone's going to be a twit, it's going to be me; I'm a fucking massive one. I keep stuttering when I talk to you." I gulp, feeling a bit self conscious telling her all of that. She searches for something in my eyes and turns to face me. "I just wanted to ask, why is your h-"
"My hair is red because it stands for rebellion. It's bright because I'm a bright person, I drive an SUV because I like big things, my favourite color isn'tred, it's blue, and yes; I saw you, too, at the stoplight."
She smirks when I gape at her. How the fuck did she know that I've been dying to ask her all of that? "We should hang out some time, if you'd like… I mean, if you're busy. I'm sure you have a life. Unlike me. I mean, I'm not a loner, I've just moved here, so…"
"Yeah, sure, but I don't think I've been properly introduced yet?"
"My name is Naomi. Er, Naomi Campbell."
She looks stunned. "Yeah, go ahead have a go at me; I've heard a million of them already."
"Why would I do that? You seem nice, Naomi."
We laugh and converse for several minutes, walking through the aisles and not really buying anything. "I'm having fun, you know. Walking round at the grocery, talking and laughing," She smiles at me. "Yeah, so am I." We get into a heated discussion about why dogs wag their tails all of sudden, honestly, I don't remember how or where; all that mattered was that the girl beside me was talking to me. Speaking to me. Time passes, and suddenly it's 9.45 PM, and we'd been talking for more than 15 minutes, but it felt like just seconds ago we had made conversation. "How was it?" She asks me, a gentle smile growing gradually upon her face.
"How was what?" I look a bit confused, thinking that somebody told her I'm a slapper, but then another thought crosses my mind, I know absolutely no one, get a grip, Naomi. "You know, the rhubarb and Weetabix casserole?" I grin at the pathetic attempt at the lie. "Mind you, it tasted like dog's bollocks. But, I just didn't have the courage to tell gran. She's got lots of pride in her cooking." Emily nods. It's 10 PM, and Tesco's is 24 hours, but I don't think we'll be spending the next 14 hours here, no matter how tempting it sounds. I like Emily. "It's getting a bit late," She says turning to face me after stopping dead center in the middle of the aisle that we were strolling through; I've lost count of how many we've walked through. "I should be getting home. We should hang out some time, though. You seem nice, Naomi." I let my gaze fall to everywhere but her eyes. "Yeah," I say, scratching the back of my neck, and then letting my arm fall slack to my side. "I suppose it is getting a bit dark. I better head home, too. Could you… Would you mind if… Never mind, bye Emily."
"No, wait!" She says, catching my arm just as I turn around, almost abandoning her once more. "What is it? Tell me."
"Could I… get your number?"
A look of stun marches across her face and eyes, casting a trail of shock, left for me to wipe away. I want to, so badly, to brush my thumb against her face, and tell her not to be confused. Wait. How do you even know she's gay? Now she's gonna think you're trying to turn her.
"Look, its find if you don't want to, I mean I've barely known you a week. I can just walk away, and pretend this didn't even happen, and go our separate paths. If that's what you want. I don't want to, but if you'd like me to, I will." She doesn't reply to me. Several seconds pass before I get fed up. I turn away from her, making my way down the egg aisle when I hear a, "Naomi! I'd love for you to have my number!" She jogs up toward me, taking my phone out of my jeans pocket, her touch lingering there, little pin-pricks of the pad of her finger letting her creamy hand awake and fill my soul. But we're just friends. I don't know if I like Emily in that kind of way. And what was that about me scolding myself, saying I don't even know she's gay? Why do I keep doing this? We're friends. Emily doesn't like me like that, and I don't quite return the favour. I turned rigid, and the look of determination of her putting her number into my contact's list, her left eyebrow rising slightly as she typed in her number, flesh leaving gentle tapping sounds across the touchscreen. We are stood in the front entrance of Tesco's, bright red hues bouncing off the blues of the illuminated sign on the front of the building, that makes us look like tiny ants. The wind is blowing hard, and a slight chill in the air leaves a tinge of pink on my cheeks. Emily doesn't look cold. Actually, she looks rather hot to me, I add to myself in my head. Fuck off!
"Naomi?" Emily says, snapping her fingers in my face. The sound of what my ears think is the noise of a camera's flash going off and Emily, brings me crashing down into the real world. Just great, Naomi! You fucking zoned out on her! "Yeah, sorry, Emily. Deep in thought."
"Right. Here's your phone…" She trails off, handing it to me.
"Cheers."
"See you, then."
"Yeah, see you."
She walks away, her black singlet, high red rugby socks, and black skirt making impact with the wind. I watch her get into her car, drive off, and soon head towards mine, going through the same routine. Click, unlocked. Open, slam shut. Click, locked. Click, seatbelt on. Subtle humming of the engine. Click, changing gears. I start the car up and sit for a few seconds, letting it warm up a bit. I turn on the heater, and unlock my phone. I go to my contacts, searching for Emily's name. I read, in tiny printed black letters: EMILY FITCH, 0784653444, and next to it, a picture of her gorgeous face. She must have added her picture to my contacts while I was in thought. I smile at the idea of the cute redhead's face forever in the memory of my phone. I decide to text her before heading off. "THOUGHT I'D MAKE THE FEELING MUTUAL. NAOMI, 24, I DRIVE A CROSSOVER BECAUSE IT'S A FREE COUNTRY. I'M A PEROXIDE BLONDE BECAUSE I, TOO, AM A BADARSE REBEL. MY FAVOURITE COLOR IS RED, AND I'M GLAD YOU SAW ME AT THE STOPLIGHT." I send the text, and make it home within minutes. I shed off everything but my knickers, put on a singlet and submit myself to a coma. "Fitch. The girl who has my heart," I murmur, before letting my head hit the pillows, while the rain makes a gentle tap, tap, tap on my windows. I fall asleep.
A/N: WOO! Did you like it? Next up: Emily goes to Mars and cuts off her left leg, having it replaced by a banana with two tentacles! Haha. Anyone think that was funny? No? Okay, I'll stop. Anyway, did you enjoy the chapter? Also, if you told me what you would like to see next in this story, it would help me out a bunch because the customer is always (usually) right, so I want to make the next chapter perfect for you guys. I think I might step out of the Tesco bit for a while, and focus on more of Naomi's personal life, and this is COMPLETELY AU, with a load of Skins quotes in it, and I'm really trying to make my fic different from all the other, so, you know how Naomi & Emily will call each other Ems or Naoms? Well, in my fic, they'll be calling each other different but also super bad arse nicknames, but please don't let that pull you away from my story! I'm also thinking of what do do with Emily. I don't ever pre-plan what's going in what chapter and what not, I just get random ideas while doing stuff, and I immediately get on Microsoft Word to put it in the chapter that I'm writing. So, all the stuff I write is just occurring ideas. Is this one a bit short? I was trying to stretch it out without all the droning. Sooo, PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU'D LIKE TO KNOW IN THE NEXT CHAPTER. A) MORE ABOUT NAOMI B) EMILY'S POV C) MORE ABOUT EMILY D) THE INTRODUCTION OF KATIE FITCH D) A CLUB SCENE IN THE NEXT 2-3 CHAPTERS E) SHUT UP, NOW! F) I DON'T CARE JUST KEEP UPDATING G) CUSTOM. OK, THANKS FOR READING, GUYS!
Xxx – Gords! (sorry if it's too short, and sorry if there's mistakes, I just skimmed through it, didn't see anything wrong that popped out. Keep reviewing! Also, the more reviews, the longer chapters, for some reason, reviews just give me more positive ideas, and motivate me, and make me get all giddy and excited. )