Hi everyone, sorry for the wait. This chapter is a little longer than the last. I intended for it to show you a little more depth on Emily. Her relationship with Katie, how she feels about Freddie, her interest in music, and most importantly, her relationship with Cook. I wanted to emphasize that Cook is really all she has right now. Anyway, to the people who have reviewed, favorited, followed, or anyone giving my story a chance, thank you so much. I can't tell you how much it means. Enjoy :)


Emily

Bzzz…Bzzz...Bzzz…Bzzz…

I'm pretty sure that's my phone buzzing on my bedside table. This is the fourth time it's gone off so that means its Katie. She's so fucking impatient. It's not exactly like she expects me to be sleeping at seven in the morning.

Mine and Cook's flat is on the fourth floor so when the sun comes up in the morning it shines through all the front windows. Right now it's casting light gold streaks across my room, going all the way to the end of my bed. There hasn't been a sign of the sun for the past few weeks with this winter weather; hopefully it'll melt the rest of the ice while it's here.

It's nice, our flat. It's a lot better than living with Jenna. Grant you, the only reason Cook can afford this place is because he sells a shitload of drugs that he gets from Keith. Neither of us have a job. I've been working my ass off to find a local one, but every time I show up for the interview I usually have a wound of some kind on my face, so they decline me.

I'm trying to save up for uni; I've already taken two years off because I can't afford it yet. I've got a few thousand in an old bank account, that Jenna can't access, but it's not nearly enough to get me into the school I want. There's a school in London, a music school. Music is all I want to do. It's the only thing I'm good at, and the only thing that's mine. Becoming a performer would be nice. It'd be a big fuck you to all the people who assumed the worst of me or told me I'd amount to nothing. However, it's not my biggest ambition. Teaching music or just having more knowledge and experience with it, that's good enough for me. I can play any instrument if I want. I used to have a piano at Jenna's but when she kicked me out I could only rescue my guitar, so that's all I have now. Although he'd never admit it, Cook loves it when I play for him, sometimes he even sings with me.

My phone rings for the fifth time. She'll never stop. I grunt into my pillow and stubbornly reach my hand out towards where I think my phone is. I slap the table a few times before finally landing on my phone. Rolling onto my side, I press talk.

"Fucks sake, what is it Katie? You realize it's seven in the morning, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, it sure took long enough to wake you the fuck up. I figured you'd be sneaking out of some slags room anyway."

I used to pull as many girls as I could when I went out with Cook. I would end up at a different girl's house almost every night, but I stopped. I still don't know why, It just wasn't fun anymore. I haven't slept with someone in a few months.

"Actually, if you must know, I haven't been sleeping around all that much." Not that she'd believe me.

"Oh yeah, I bet."

Told you.

"Katie, I know it's hard for you to believe, but not everyone has the same level of need for sexual activity as you and your boy toy."

Katie and her boyfriend, Freddie, have been dating for about five and a half months now, she lives with him too. I hate him. She's fucking head over heels for him and he seems to make her happy, but besides that, I despise everything about him.

"Oh for fucks sake, again Emily? Can't you at least pretend being nice to him for one fucking day?"

Katie knows I don't approve.

"Nope."

Not that that'll change anything.

"Why not? What's he ever done to you? He likes you! He's nice to you even when you treat him like shit Emily."

Oh god, if I had a dime for every time my sister has used that one I'd be fucking rich. Like I care if he likes me or not. I can't stand his cocky attitude or his fucking smug smirk that I want to punch off his face.

"I've told you a hundred times Katie, I don't need a reason to dislike someone. I get a bad vibe from him."

"Whatever. Look, I called for a reason. Can you meet me?"

Is she serious?

"Katie, let me just say again… Seven in the fucking morning!"

"I have to talk to you!"

"Why can't you just tell me over the phone?"

"Alright, fuck, so I kind of wanted to see you because I miss you. You came over to see James two days ago while I was out. I missed you again."

Oh.

I sigh, "Sorry Katie," I rub my eyes and throw off my blanket. With a grunt of effort, I get myself into a sitting position. "Meet me at the park in half an hour?"

"Thanks Emily."

Sometimes it surprises me how much Katie's changed since high school.

"I'm always here for you," I assure her just like I assured James two nights ago.

"I know. See you in a bit."

There's a faint click and the line goes dead. I put my phone back down and get up to go make some coffee.

The only distinction between our kitchen and living room is the flooring- and the furniture too, obviously -the kitchen is all checkered tile while the living room is a dark blue carpet. A giant window takes up most of the living room wall; the sun comes through it the most. With the sun shining through this early in the morning, our living room could make an outstanding picture. Except for Cook passed out on the couch with scattered beer cans all around him. That ruins is a bit. He couldn't make it to his room last night apparently. He's sprawled out on the couch, snoring like a fucking lion, and he's left beer cans all over the fucking floor again. He can keep himself perfectly showed and fresh but when it comes to putting the same effort into our living environment? Forget it.

I turn back to the coffee pot after dumping in all the water and flick the on button. As I lean on the counter and wait for the coffee to heat up I absent-mindedly touch the necklace I shamefully wore to bed last night.

I saw her again yesterday. Now I know she doesn't want to be seen. She fucking ran away from me! Like properly bolted, out the door, onto the sidewalk, down the alley, and poof, gone. I know how she manages to disappear now too. She doesn't, she's just fast. I went back to Courtney's after she got away to see if the other mysterious girl with the long, dark hair that was with her would still be there. She wasn't.

I can't stop thinking about her. Why did she run? Why can everyone else talk to her except me? Why did she fight off Candice the first night we met? Why won't she tell me her name? Why me? And those are just the questions. I thought she was stunning when I saw her in the alley, but that was in the dark, through tired eyes. Not to mention she was sweaty and covered in black. When I saw her properly for the first time in my coffee shop, regardless of my reputation of fucking girls and leaving them- so, in a nutshell, I don't do feelings –something unexpected happened. It was literally like time stopped and for a few brief seconds it was just us in that shop, everything else slowly fading away more the longer we held each other's gaze.

This is bad. I don't allow these thoughts. I don't need anybody else, it's me and Cook against the world. Plus, who would want me anyway? I'm trouble, nothing but a burden. Not to mention, if I did end up finding a girl, I'll probably just hurt her. Not because I want to either, I just will because hurt is a packaged deal with me. You'll get it whether you want it or not.

A loud snort coming from Cook and the smell of hot coffee brings me back to reality. No more letting her distract me.

I pour two cups, one for me with two scoops of sugar and some cream and one for Cook with nothing. He's going to need it since he's waking up. I walk into the our living room, carefully balancing two full mugs, and sit down next to Cook as he gets himself into a sitting position. He rubs his eyes like I did this morning and accepts the mug I'm offering him with a tired grimace.

"Holy fuck, what time is it?"

"Bout seven," I gently touch his check where it's slightly swollen and purple, "you okay?"

He smiles a big, full, Cook smile, "I'm fucking fantastic Emilio! Bit of a hangover, but nothing the Cookie monster can't handle. What about you? You're eyes a little fucked; you get home okay last night?"

I didn't tell Cook about the anonymous blonde. I'm not ready to tell anyone else about her. I don't know as much as I'd like to yet. As for Candice, I've never told anyone about my unfortunate weekly encounters with them. Candice is my problem, nobody else's. I can handle it myself. Cook just thinks I get into bar fights or fall over too often when I'm drunk.

"I'm fine Cook; probably just fell over or something last night."

I put my coffee down on the table and wrap my arms around him from the side, resting my check on his broad shoulder. I feel him drop his head on top of mine to sort of hug me back.

"Play me a morning song?"

I love that I'm the only one who gets to see this side of him.

"I can't today, I have to go meet Katie," I let go of his neck and stand up. "Sorry Cookie."

I kiss his forehead and head to the shower.


Regardless of the sun that hasn't been overshadowed by a dark cloud yet, it's still freezing out. It's almost February, not that that's anything to look forward to; it'll still be cold out.

I'm sitting on an old bench that's been in this park since Katie and I were kids. Katie and I grew up here; we've lived in Bristol our whole lives. We both went to a local public high school and she's attending uni here too. I'd be attending London's Royal Academy of Music right now if Jenna hadn't intercepted. Shit, no thinking about her now, I'm having an okay day so far and I can't let Jenna ruin my mood. I haven't seen Katie in a while, now that I think about it. I miss her too.

"Ems!" She runs up to me.

I jump up off the bench as soon as I see her. I didn't know just how much I missed her until I see her.

"Katie!" I wrap my arms around her and we give each other a crushing hug.

"God, I missed you," she says as she pulls away. Her face drops when she see's mine. "Emily!" She cups my face in her hands. I grab her wrists and pry her fingers away from probing the now faint bruise around my eye.

"It's nothing," I turn my head to the side. I can't deal with the way she's looking at me.

"Oh, Emily," she grabs my hands and makes us both sit down. Tears are threatening to escape the corners of her eyes. "What's happened to you?"

"I'm still Emily, Katie." I grip her hands a little tighter and smile reassuringly at her.

She holds my gaze for a few seconds before sniffling once and wiping at the corners of her eyes. When her hands come back down to her lap she's smiling excitedly at me like nothing had happened.

"Right then, I have so many things to tell you. Get this…"

We continue talking about anything and everything. Discussing things from how she and Freddie are doing to what the newest trends are and so on. Katie doesn't see me much; she's always so busy with fucking Freddie, figuratively and literally. She just doesn't have a lot of time for me anymore. I know she loves me, I just wish I felt like she loved me more than Freddie. Lately I haven't been so sure.

After saying goodbye to Katie with another crushing hug and a tear or two from her, I make my way back home. Cook's still here when I come in, surprisingly enough. We only really see each other in the morning or at night; we're usually out together or on our own doing whatever the fuck we want. The perfect life for most people my age, and here I am, wanting to go to university. Figures.

"Ems! Just the bird I wanted to see! I've been waiting hours for ya. We're going out." Cook says after I close the door behind me.

I smile at him as I hang up my jacket. He's sat on the couch, shirtless, and it looks like he's cleaned up the beer cans he left lying around everywhere. A faint cloud of smoke coming from the ash tray on the table is hovering above his head and makes the suns beams coming through the window look foggy. There's some horrible sitcom playing on the telly in the background that I suppose he was watching while I was gone.

"Cook, it's one in the afternoon." He already wants to go out and get trashed. No rest for the wicked.

"Yeah? What's your point? I reckon we go to Keith's for a bit, just you and me, then hit a club. How about it lil red?"

Couldn't hurt I guess. Something to get fucking Fredric off my mind would be nice.

I shrug, "What the fuck."

He grins proudly at me as he jumps up off the couch, "That's my girl!"


We arrive at Keith's a few minutes later, the sun's still out, but it's still cold.

"Hello, Christina! Pour me and red here some drinks, would ya babe?" Cook insists the second we walk through the door.

I smile at Christina- she's just the bar maid that seems to be the only other employee at Keith's besides Keith himself -and follow Cook to our usual seat at the back.

"So, pull any last night?" I ask him with a teasing smile.

He winks at me, "obviously. What about you red? Been fucking long enough since we got you laid."

I laugh lightly as Christina puts a tray of four pints down in front of us. Cook takes a large gulp of his first one and belches. I don't touch mine.

"What's up with you?" He asks me, his eyebrows forming little worry squiggles.

I don't think he's talking about my lack of sexual activity.

"Nothing, I'm just a bit tired I guess. Early morning." I grab my first pint and take a long sip. Maybe that'll convince him a little more.

"Well, wake the fuck up Emilio man!" He downs the rest of his pint in one go and pats his stomach. He grins at me mischievously, "We've still got the rest of the day."

Two more pints and four hours later and Cook and I are ordering shots at a different bar. The stools are vibrating with every pulse of every beat coming from the massive sound system and there's sweaty, intoxicated bodies dancing everywhere. The strobe lights are all sorts of different colors, but other than the various color flashes everywhere, it's black. Cook gives me a signal with his thumb indicating that he's going to go dance. I nod and smile in response and order another shot of vodka as he disappears into the sea of chaos.

Something about that blond has thrown me off. Normally I'd be pissed out of my mind and grinding any girl who would allow it. But instead I'm sat at the bar, alone, thinking about a random girl who remains nameless. It's not like I didn't already have enough random nameless girls in my life. Don't get me wrong, I love going out with Cook, he taught me how to have fun when all I wanted to do was wallow away in a pit of my own misery. I just feel a little distracted. Something, anything, has to happen to take my mind off her.

A series of startled screams and vicious roars suddenly break out through the violent thump of the music.

Of course. I will bet you anything that's-

"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME CUNT!"

I guess saving Cook's ass from a group of thugs is distracting enough.

I jump off the stool and shove my way through the mass of noise and movement until I get to where the thunderous threats are coming from. Two extremely pissed looking men about Cook's size have his arms pinned against his back while another one brings his arm back to throw, judging by Cooks bloody face, another punch. I have to act fast.

I walk up behind him calmly so I don't alert his buddies. I tap his shoulder and he spins around with an aggravated glare that turns into a disgustingly sleazy smirk when he sees me. His hair is dark brown and gelled back, with little curls sticking up just below his ears, it looks a bit like a mullet. He's a head and a half taller than me and he's wearing a sleek, silver tux that makes him look taller. Not that I'm intimidated.

I smile sweetly at him before flashing my eyes at Cook and catching him wink at me. My heart's beating at a, what has to be, unsafe speed as the brute takes a small step closer. I've grown out of a lot of things but I'll never grow tired of the thrill that is Cook and I acting spontaneously. Mullet head opens his mouth to probably try out a hopeless pick-up line or brag about how him and his buddies are currently beating up a lesser being, but all that comes out is a suppressed grunt because of how hard I've just sacked him. He drops to his knees and a mumbled 'fucking bitch' makes its way through his clenched teeth. By now Cook's knocked out one of the guys and I guess the other one pussied out because he's nowhere in sight. Cook's face is bloody as fuck which makes it look more brutal than it actually is. Once I get him home and wash it off he'll be fine. He's about to continue where he apparently left off before I grab his arm and drag him away from the caveman I just sacked. Cook could go all night but we're both wasted and delusional. It's time to go home.

We trip over our own feet as we make our way through damp streets that are, hopefully, leading us home. We're laughing so much it's hard to breathe.

"So I… I told him… I told him he could suck my cock... And he… He didn't accept my offer." Cook breathes out through his laughter.

"Oh my god Cook. I'm not always going to be around to save your ass, you know!" I tease him.

"Yeah you will," he lightly shoves my shoulder and smiles at me broadly; "It'll always be us against the world Em."

"Always," I smile genuinely at him. "Now, we're going home," I smack his butt, "move it!"


I head straight for the couch and collapse at the same time as Cook closes the door behind us. He walks over to join me, sinking into the cushions with a content sigh. I bring my knees up to my chest as we sit together, our breathing being the only sound in the room. Cook looks over at me with a conflicted expression, like he wants to ask me something but isn't sure if he should.

"Oh, out with it," I tell him.

He looks away for a second, the back again. "Think you could play me that song now?" His tone is soft.

People really shouldn't judge Cook so much by his first impression. He has his adorable moments.

I smile warmly at him before going to get my guitar. I know exactly what I'm going to play for him. When I come back out I sit in one of the chairs opposite him and rest my guitar on my lap. I know he likes this song.

I clear my throat and start gently strumming the acoustic version of the song, slowing it down a bit so it sounds a little sadder, but in a pretty way.

When the night has come…

And the land is dark…

And the moon is the only light we'll see…

No, I won't be afraid,

Oh, I won't be afraid,

Just as long as you stand, stand by me…

I prefer John Lennon's version, but I know Cook likes Ben E. King's better. I close my eyes and try to make it sound as sweet as possible, which can be difficult because of my husky voice, but I've practiced enough. Plus, if Cooks smile is anything to go by, I'm doing okay. I swear, that smile would make Voldemort understand mercy.

So darling, darling, stand by me…

Oh, stand by me…

Oh, stand, stand by me, stand by me…

After a few minutes I finish the song by holding the last chord until it dies out. The room is dead silent as I hold my breath, waiting for his reaction. I'm not dreading rejection, Cook loves it when I play for him, but playing in front of anyone has always been nerve-racking for me. Cook, Katie, and James are the only people I've ever played for. Oh, and dad, I played for dad once.

Cook's reaction is something rare. Something I know he's only ever shown me and something he'll probably never show anyone else. He doesn't talk. He doesn't ruin the moment with words, he just continues smiling. A smile designed for my eyes only. It's not face-splitting and smug like his usual contagious grin. It's genuine and warm and honest. It's a little sad too. It's a smile that shows his vulnerabilities. Vulnerabilities that only I know he has.

I put my guitar down gently and lean it against the chair. I pad across the room and sit next to him, resting my head on his shoulder like I did this morning. When I first moved in with Cook Katie continuously asked me, why him? He's dirty and vulgar, perverted and blunt. But no one understands us, and that's part of the reason we're a team. So to answer Katie's question; Sitting here quietly with Cook in our dimly lit living room, and the feel of his shoulder moving slightly with every breath he takes, and the soft whisper of 'thanks Emsy' being the only sound in the room, that's why. Because this, this feeling of only being allowed to be ourselves with each other, and being able to sit together in a silent room full of unspoken secrets and weaknesses but not feel compelled to expose them, that's our friendship. That's Cook and I, and no one will ever come close to understanding us.


I hope that was good enough, let me know. I said the same thing last time, I know, but I really shouldn't take too long to upload the next chapter. I have it all planned out. Thanks for reading.

~Shae