And so she ran; ran until her feet screamed. Heels were never her deal, and even with numerous influences pumping through her veins, they still managed to riot against her.
"Fucks sake," she mumbled, pulling off her heels and slinging one under each arm.
She felt her face scrunch as she peered around her.
Wait and surprise; or keep running. Taunting Emily.
It wasn't often the game took such a sporadic turn. It made her mind spin and her stomach flop. Naomi had to gain the control back. The twitch in her lower stomach from Emily's shenanigans pushed her competitive nature back into gear.
She never could think clearly with Emily in the picture. She'd practically just bludgeoned a lad up simply because Emily had pushed the stakes a bit higher in this game of theirs, for crying out loud. Thinking was definitely out.
Emily had told her to run. She was a devilish thinker, always something brewing behind those seemingly innocent eyes. She had said it with purpose. Question is, where?
Sudden clarity rang through her head. Naomi grabbed it tight and took off running again, urging the pill to spread its fun through her blood stream. Begging it. It was her turn to shine.
She stumbled across a dingy pub. A large brick building that reeked of liquor.
This pub indicated a place of solace for Naomi and Emily. In all its dilapidated glory, it had been a hub for many end-of-evening drinks, flirty banter that left them tearing out of the place and on one special occasion, a place where Naomi had finally reached so deep into Emily, she knew she'd never be able to pull back again.
It was their default; their truce.
But there was a different buzz in the air tonight, Naomi knew it. Welcomed it. Especially as she came upon the window and saw the familiar red head poised in a booth, tracing the sweat on an untouched mug of lager.
Taking in a deep breath, finally feeling the pill, she smiled and sauntered into the pub. She walked up the bar and ordered the cheapest drink on the menu, knowing she had absolutely no intention of drinking it.
"Hey, no shoes, no service," the bartender quipped.
Entirely aware of the red head behind her, staring a hole into her back, Naomi leaned over onto the bar.
"Serve me, or fuck off," Naomi said, deeply and pointedly. The bartender stared. She stared back. Leaned a little bit further over the bar. Certainly not for his benefit.
Not a minute later and a drink in hand, Naomi turned on her heel, noticing Emily now staring hard at a wall. Willing herself to stare. Naomi smirked.
The booth next to Emily was empty. Walking past Emily, Naomi traced her finger on the cold, wet glass of her own drink, and placed it on Emily's back, tracing around her to shoulder as she walked past.
Predictably, almost amusingly, Emily shuddered. Naomi pretended it didn't send a shiver through her system. She relished in the achingly slow process of turning this game back around in her favor.
She sat her self in the booth next to Emily, purposefully situating herself in Emily's eyeline. Catching those soft brown eyes, she hid a smile.
"This game is mine now," Naomi thought.
Then Emily smirked.