"Oh fuck."
Naomi bit off the end of her nail, tearing off skin along with the neon pink-painted crescent. She threw her mobile on the floor opposite her, and sat against the wall cross-legged, staring at it. The more she looked at it, the more Naomi thought it was spitting words at her. Everything that Katie had ever said to her were swirling around in her head.
Dyke!
I saw you looking at Emily. Having sordid fantasies?
You're probably a lesbo like your sodding hippie mother.
Enjoying the lady gardens in la-la-land?
Fucking Lezzer.
Been munching muff recently, Naomi?
Stay away from my fucking sister, Campbell.
Naomi screwed her face up, trying to block out Katie's voice, but it just got louder. She could see her pulling faces and making snide comments, her scowls and disgust pressing further and further towards her.
And then Naomi couldn't help but think of Emily.
And Katie's words were still going round in her head, even though Naomi had clamped her hands to her ears to stop more noise getting in.
And finally, Naomi had to remember what had happened on that bouncy castle.
She didn't know why she had tried not to think about it so much. For the past few hours, since she got home from Pandora's 'sleepover' slash drugs orgy, she kept replaying the scene over and over again in her head. In fact, she kept replaying the whole night, mainly spent hiding in the mud behind Pandora's mum's daisy bushes kissing Emily.
The problem was, the more Naomi thought about Emily and Katie, the less annoyed with Katie she felt and the more guilty she became about Emily.
Her mum's stupid doorbell went off.
Sighing, Naomi hauled herself off the floor and wandered over to the front door, expecting to tell the postman to fuck off because her mum wasn't interested.
But as soon as she opened it, she felt lips pressed hard over hers, arms wrapped around her tightly and the smell of shampoo hitting her.
"Jesus!" Naomi broke away from Emily hastily, "It's like you're on fucking speed."
"I missed you."
"We've only been apart for six hours."
"Well, I still thought you'd text me."
"For fuck's sake Emily. It was just one night."
Emily cocked her head, heaving her bag up onto her shoulder. She waited for Naomi to say something, but she just stared at the floor, not wanting to be in this situation. Exasperated and upset, Emily swivelled round on her heels, wiping her eyes with the corner of her jacket.
Naomi stared at her walking away.
Closing the door slowly, she walked back into the living room and picked her mobile off the floor shakily. She scrolled down her messages, reading the texts.
Call me xxx
Have you got the mud out of your hair yet? Xxx
Still a cock-cruncher? Xxx
Suddenly, her phone began vibrating. It was an unknown number. She accepted the call, bringing her mobile to her ear tentatively.
"What are you Naomi?" She inhaled quickly, wanting to recognise the voice. But it was impossible, "Gay or straight?"
The call cut off. For once, Naomi didn't know the answer. She didn't even know if the call was real or imaginary.
Naomi sank onto the floor, collapsing in tears. She didn't care what Katie thought, so why was she getting so hung up over this? She didn't have a problem when she was ringing up Emily to find out if she was going to this gig tonight. So what was different now?
She knew that she was rejecting someone who liked her. To be precise, the only person who had wanted her in months. But she wasn't sure if she wanted her too. Naomi didn't want to pigeon-hole herself, to let all the pricks and bigots in the world stick her in a box and call her gay and ostracise her. Yet at the same time, Naomi knew that she was all about defying the norm. She'd always hated bending to fit in with other people's stupid ideas. And she didn't want Emily to hate her, she wanted her to like her and Naomi guessed that she must find Emily attractive somehow because they ended up together nearly every fucking time they met. So why was she so torn over this? Why did decisive, confident Naomi Campbell feel (for the first time in her entire life) so...lost?