CHAPTER SEVEN.

"Oh my God, I'm so fucking bored," Naomi groaned, throwing another magazine onto the coffee table.

"You keep saying it like it matters," Emily looked over, handing another magazine to her blonde friend. "They said several hours."

"Why are you still here?" Naomi asked.

"Oh. Do you want me to go? I should fucking be going," Emily stood, collecting her bag.

"No. Stay." Naomi reached out immediately. "I didn't put that well. I meant why would you want to stay?"

"All your fucking bitching is making me wonder the same," Emily replied sarcastically.

"I'm incredibly grateful you are here," Naomi admitted. She had hated the idea of sitting here alone, but Emily had sat right next to her without a word, and had remained with her all this time.

"Yeah?" Emily grinned.

Naomi knew Emily was flirting, but didn't quite know what it meant.

"I'll even buy you a drink or two when we get out of here," Naomi decided that if Emily was okay with a bit of flirting, why shouldn't she join in?

"You can invite me to Effy's party." Emily had heard something about it shouted at her by her rampaging sister just before she slammed the front door shut.

"It's a deal," Naomi replied.

Before Emily had a chance to reply, Naomi's name was being called.

"A second degree sprain, Miss Campbell. Simple as that, really."

"Which means?" Naomi sighed, this doctor was openly checking Emily out and it was giving her the shits.

"You should use these and try to stay off your ankle as much as possible," he handed over a pair of crutches. "But as soon as you think you're okay to walk, you should try. Gently."

"Okay," Naomi begrudgingly took the crutches.

"You must have been walking around on it, Miss Campbell. That swelling was quite pronounced."

"Yeah," Naomi tried to get up, but Emily was blocking her path.

"Will she need pain medication?" Emily asked, holding onto Naomi's shirt.

"Yes. I'll write out a prescription. Oh and ice, she'll need to keep doing that today, okay? Every two hours for about half an hour. Then tomorrow and Tuesday you can change it to two hours: twenty minutes. Don't forget to elevate. I'll show you how to correctly wrap the ankle." His attention was directly on Emily and Naomi suddenly knew why Emily was holding on. She was uncomfortable.

"Ems, can you get the car?" Naomi didn't know how to help Emily, but at least getting her out of the room seemed a smart idea.

Emily smiled, happy to comply.

"If you have any questions on your friends treatment, you should call," he was a nice man, but Emily didn't want him to get his hopes up. She knew he wasn't her type.

"Oh, and no alcohol. Drinking creates bleeding and swelling, and you don't want that," he added.

Naomi hated doctors. She really fucking hated them.

After buying two new compression bandages, some anti-inflammatory medication and a larger ice pack, Naomi tried out her crutches. They were a fucking disaster. She had landed on her sore foot several times between the corridors and Emily's car. So much for staying off them with the help of the crutches, she thought.

"You should have waited," Emily scolded as she opened the back door.

"I have to fucking get my ankle massaged when it heals to prevent scar tissue or some fucking ridiculous thing."

"So you don't re-injure your ankle, yeah. It's important to strengthen the ankle."

"I already got the lecture about letting it heal properly, thanks," Naomi replied sarcastically.

"You're a cranky fucking patient," Emily smiled, holding Naomi's crutches for her as she got in the car.

"He said three to fucking six weeks before I can get back to regular activities, Em!" Naomi groaned in frustration.

"Do everything right and it might be less than six," Emily replied matter-of-factly.

"Oh no, you're one of those easy-going people. I fucking hate those kind of people," Naomi replied good naturedly.

"I see injuries at my gym, and whilst I'm not a trainer, I do have first aid training," Emily pushed back some of the blonde hair that was falling over Naomi's face before getting in the drivers seat.

"Do you still want to go to Effy's party with me?" Naomi asked, a little nervous about Emily's answer.

"Of course. You'll get a whole lot of sympathy and I'll be dancing and drinking the night away right in front of you," Emily joked, knowing how any of what she just suggested would make Naomi fucking cranky.

"You, Emily Fitch, have a fucking mean streak," Naomi chuckled.

"Naomi, I want to tell you something, but you can't freak out, okay?"

Naomi nodded and bit her lip.

"I'm really fucking enjoying myself with you. I've not laughed and really fucking talked to someone in a long time. I used to with Katie, but we've changed so much now. I just wanted to tell you that in case Katie fucks things up."

Naomi couldn't help but smile.

"You had me worried for a minute," Naomi admitted.

"Why?"

"I thought you were going to tell me you wanted that doctors number," Naomi joked, pleased when Emily's laugh tore through the car.

"Just don't tell Katie. She already thinks I'm a fucking freak," Emily cringed, not exactly wanting to say that.

"Fuck Katie. You need to be the one who is happy with your decisions," Naomi wanted to delve into that remark, but knew Emily wouldn't tell her anything more than that.

"Okay, so tell me how to get to your bookstore," Emily again, changed the subject and again, Naomi let her.

TBC ... Thank you for reading.