Cat got out of bed and took a walk down the corridor today. She wasn't exactly supposed to do it, but she did it anyway. Badass anarchist mothafucka. My kinda girl – go Cat

I don't own Skins, but if I can borrow it to make a sick girl happier, then I don't exactly care.

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7. Observe And Engage

Naomi

I was sat alone in the living room at the cottage, staring at my computer screen but not really taking anything in. The pattern we had decided on for our working schedule, was one day at sea followed by one day at home working on the results. But of course we didn't really have enough results yet to be doing anything of importance so there had been a lot more facebooking and tweeting than actual work. I'd sent an email to our tutor back at uni to let him know that everything had settled into place. I'd made numerous cups of coffee and smoked numerous fags, but it didn't really distract from the fact that I pretty much had nothing to do. I'm not really one of those people who could just say 'fuck it' and pack it in to watch a movie or just go to the pub. If my brain thinks it ought to be doing something then it will have a damn good stab at it, even though I usually end up being paralysed between the two extremes and don't achieve anything or get to have any fun either. But today my mission was even more frantic than usual, because I knew that if I let my guard down even for a moment, I would find myself drowning in her. In Emily.

Thomas had fucked off somewhere. I think he was still annoyed with me for having dragged him away from Katie last night. It was for his own good. Having learned about the love triangle of doom that Katie was mired in, I knew she would only be using him to get herself some kind of distraction. She would take advantage of Thomas's good nature, and leave him broken hearted. I had tried to explain this to him, but he was having none of it.

"You're too cynical, Naomi," he said. "It closes you off and stops you seeing the good in people. Katie was a lovely young lady."

"Mate, she was a bitch until you showed up," I said. "Then she turned on the fucking charm in an instant. It was like she flicked a switch or something."

"Maybe she is just trying to reach out for something," said Thomas.

"You mate, and your gullible little heart," I scoffed. "She's just like all the others. She can pick out a kind-hearted soul, and immediately see how she can use it to her advantage. When are you going to find yourself a nice girl?"

"Perhaps when you stop being such a pussy and actually take a chance on someone," he retorted.

"I'm not a pussy," I countered. "I'm just being smart."

But I was saying it to myself, cause Thomas was already out of the door.

I wasn't being a pussy. I'd gone to the pub hadn't I? I'd talked to her, hadn't I? I hadn't run a mile when she had started flirting with me, or at least I think she had. Fuck, maybe she was just being friendly. I mean I know I have personal space issues, and I know that Emily was flouting them, but maybe that's just how she is. Some people are just that touchy when they're being friendly. I mean look how she was with Effy. She'd shoved her hands down her best mate's bra for God's sake. And she was always punching or poking Cook. She taught surfing, she was a physical person. And those kind of people are always much more tactile. It was probably nothing. I mean she was so fucking beautiful, she could have any girl she liked. What would she want with me? I'm not edgy or alternative, I'm just me, and all I'd ever done was act like an idiot in front of her.

But then there was that look she gave me just before she left, when I found her brown eyes cutting into me, and slicing and dicing any resistance I might have had. I sure if she had asked me to follow her to Vladivostock in that moment I would have gone. I don't like it, it freaks me out. Surely no one person should be able to have that much control over you, should they? Thomas would say it was love, and that it was perfectly fine to feel this way, that that is how love should feel. But what if I couldn't trust her? She was obviously experienced from the way Cook was joking about it. I had seen what loving a Fitch girl had done to Effy. Did I really want to end up like her, wallowing in narcotics just to be able to face the pain? It was ridiculous. It was Stacey Matthieson all over again. Except I'm a grown woman, not some stupid teenager with a crush. I needed to get some focus. I needed to regain some control. I needed another fucking cigarette.

I opened the door to the cottage and smoked whilst I boiled the kettle for yet another cup of coffee. I know I had probably gone way over my limit for the day, but I had to get my brain working properly and to stop spinning round in these stupid fucking circles over a girl. A girl for Christ's sakes. Yes, I know I am gay but it's only a part of me, it's not who I am. There are far more important things that I need to be thinking about here. Trying to stop our planet reaching the tipping point being one of them. I took my coffee outside and sat on the little bench in our garden. Maybe the fresh air would help to clear my head. Beyond the couple of fields I could see in front of me lay the dunes, and beyond that the beach. It was beautiful, so peaceful, and I could hear the sound of the sea from where I sat. But the sea was no longer a thing unto itself. The sea was now welded to the image of Emily the first time I saw her, and that image fired off an electrical shit storm in my brain.

She would be there now, with her class, the water wrapping itself around her as she introduced the other women to the mysteries of the sea. Women who weren't me, and I couldn't fucking stand it. It was like I could hear her calling me, physically drawing me to her with open invitation. She hadn't given me her number, or told me to look her up on facebook. She had told me to come and find her at the sea. Emily Fitch was no ordinary girl, and all the fake-ass hippy bullshit that my mother used to spout, like destiny and karma and soul-mates started spinning round in my head, doing battle with my rational brain, until my rational brain decided on the perfect solution.

There was no point trying to force a sense of control, when it was clear that I did not have one. I did not know what was happening to me, but when you get a set of results in an experiment that you do not understand, you can't just pretend that they didn't happen. You have to investigate, you have to make an active effort to understand. You cannot just sweep them under the carpet and hope that they will go away. No, I had to face this Emily thing head on. I had to find out what the fuck was going on before I could attempt to explain it. I needed to acquire data, and to do that I needed to observe and engage with the subject.

I ran most of the way to the beach, even when my progress became more difficult once I had reached the dunes. I was hyped up on caffeine and nicotine and excited to get started on my more scientific approach to Project Redhead. As I crested the last dune and saw the bay spread out before me, I scanned the waves to find them. There were a few random pods of surfers about, but Emily's must be a larger group. I took a chance that they would be down at the Rhossili end, and headed off to the left to try to find them. It wasn't too hard to spot them in the end. Most of them had wetsuits and boards with the Fitchwater logo and that ridiculous slogan on them, and I smirked at the memory of how cute Ems had looked the first time she had said it. And then I saw her, talking intensely to one of the women in the shallows. She looked completely in her element. Even though I couldn't hear her, I could see she was animated. I could almost feel the enthusiasm as she used her hands and upper body to illustrate what she was saying. The girl she was talking to was hanging on her every word, as if Emily was some kind of sorceress who could give her control of the wave. Emily put her arm around the girl's body as she finished her pep talk, giving her a squeeze of encouragement before sending her back out into the waves. Observation number one – Emily is generally tactile, using physicality to assist communication. Or a tart.

Fucking stop it, Naomi. You are allowing your emotions to impede the observations. But I hoped she wasn't a tart. I really didn't want her to be a tart. Emily turned and dived back into the waves, slicing through the onrushing breakers as if they were nothing at all. Observation two – Emily is really good at swimming. Fuck, she was disappearing from view. I needed to get closer. I changed into my swimsuit and ran down to the water, screeching to a halt as my toes hit the edge of the surf. Fuck, if this thing with Emily was going to go any further, I was going to need to invest in a wetsuit. I did my usual pointless trick of sneaking into the cold liquid bit by bit, needlessly prolonging my torture, despite the fact that logic dictated that Thomas's approach was far superior. As usual, I got stuck once I reached waist height, unwilling to take the final plunge and put my head and shoulders under the water. But then I heard her voice, shouting encouragement at someone and laughing, and my body went into automatic. With no thought for my fear of the cold, I plunged head first into the water. I had to get closer to her.

Which was fucking easier said than done. I don't know how Emily had made it look so easy, but I was getting a right battering trying to get through these waves. My 'on the boat analysing data' vision of my future was getting a serious promotional boost right now. Every time I seemed to be getting somewhere, some massive big fuck off wave would knock me backwards almost as far as I had come. I wasn't that crap of a swimmer, but I was already getting tired. And the jitters I was getting from the stupid amount of caffeine in my body weren't helping either. Shit, why didn't Emily teach badminton or something? That way I could have sat having a fag on some bleachers watching her play. If I'd have had any sense, I would have just given up and waited on the beach for her to finish her class, but the all-new obsessive stalky pervert she had turned me into was determined to carry on. I saw another big breaker coming my way, and tried to do what they did, which was to dive right through it. I was astonished at the peace I found under the water compared to the turmoil above, and was actually feeling quite proud of myself as I breached for air on the other side. But I didn't have much time to congratulate myself, as the next thing I heard was Emily's voice shouting "No, Panda, No." I had only a second to register a blonde girl careering towards me on an out of control surfboard.

If I had had my wits about me I would have just dived and let her sail right over me, looking cool and impressing Emily at the same time. But I did the opposite. I panicked. I started flailing recklessly in attempt to escape and the edge of her board smacked me in the jaw. 'Panda' then fell off, and the next thing I knew I was smacked on the head from behind. I lost my sense of direction and awareness as another breaker hit us, and I was whirled around in its path like a rag doll in a tumble dryer. I was under the water, and I was freaking out. I had no idea which way was up, and my lungs began to tighten in my chest. I flung my arms and legs in all directions, hoping that one of them might propel me to the surface, but it was fucking useless. I was going to fucking drown.

Suddenly I felt my arms being pinned to my sides from behind. I wanted to scream but my lungs would have filled with water. I wanted to fight, but whoever it was that held me had a grip of steel. I could feel them pulling me in one direction, and I could do nothing but comply. Almost instantly, we breached the surface, and I opened my mouth to take a huge gasp of air. I caught half a mouthful of water, and I started to panic again, until my fear was punctured by the most beautiful sound in the universe.

"I've got you," said Emily, one arm still clamped firmly around my body, whilst the other held my head above the water. "Don't fight me Naomi. You're going to be ok. I've got you."

With anyone else I would probably have kept on struggling, but her quiet authoritative tone and the feel of her strong arms around my body made me all too willing to let her take control.

"Ok, now try and breathe normally, Naoms," she said. "I'm going to help you back to the shore. Don't worry about trying to swim, babes. Let me do all the work."

I felt her legs kick off underneath me as she held me on my back above the water. She didn't fight the waves that closed in on us, instead she used them to increase our momentum towards the shore. She kept whispering soothing and encouraging words into my ear, and I felt my body starting to relax under her guidance. She released her vice-like grip on my arms and curled her arm round my waist instead. All of a sudden this terrifying experience had become an extremely pleasurable one instead. I felt completely safe with her, and could allow my thoughts to drift from my own personal survival to how fucking good it felt to have her this close to me. Observation three – Emily's physical presence appears to have a direct correlation to my own sense of wellbeing.

"There we go, all safe and sound," she said as she guided us to our feet in waist deep water.

Is she gonna be alright?" came a distraught Bristol accent from behind my shoulder.

Emily span us round to face a very guilty looking Panda, standing a few feet away, the offending article bobbing about on its leash behind her.

"She's going to be fine, Panda," said Emily in that same calm voice that just made you absolutely believe her. "It was just an accident. Don't let it upset you. You need to go back out there and get straight on another wave. It will all be good."

"If you're sure," said Panda.

"I'm sure," smiled Emily.

Panda wandered back out into the waves, where the other teacher immediately looked after her, and Emily turned back to me.

"So how you actually feeling?" she asked me. "It sounded like a nasty crack. I've been smacked in the head by a board a few times, and it's never exactly pleasant."

"I'm good, I think," I said, unwilling to relinquish the safety of her grasp, but feeling the need to test the truth of my statement. Just as I managed to steady myself and stand on my own two feet, another fucking wave came and knocked me sideways. Before I could fall, however, Emily's arm was round me again. Jesus, I felt like some pathetic damsel in distress, but I wasn't exactly hating the end result.

"Ok, let's get you to the beach," she said, and have a proper check on you."

I had to allow myself a little smile about the thought of nurse Emily giving me a thorough once over, and I slipped my arm around her shoulder as we walked over to the sand. She sat me down, and knelt down in front of me.

"Whereabouts did it hit you?" she asked.

"In the face, and on the back of the head," I said, feeling like a little kid with a grazed knee.

"Well, that's not so bad," she said.

"How do you work that out?" I pouted.

"You're less likely to have gotten a concussion," she grinned, feeling gently round the back of my head.

"Ow!" I moaned, when she hit the spot.

"Yeah, you've got a bump," she grinned. "That's good news as well. Means the swelling is outside of the skull and not inside. I think you're going to pull through Ms Campbell."

She sat down beside me, and we both watched the waves in silence for a while.

"Not going back to class?" I asked her, immediately cursing myself for the suggestion."

"I'm just gonna wait here a while, symptoms sometimes take a while to show up. Let me know if you feel dizzy or nauseous, or experience blurry or tunnel vision."

Are you fucking joking, Emily Fitch? How could I tell her I felt all of those things? Not because of some stupid whack on the head, but because she was sat so close to me. Because she put her arm back round me when she noticed the goosebumps on my flesh. Because our thighs were now touching all the way down. The very thought of her makes me feel dizzy, and my stomach churns over with nerves, because I can't find the words to tell her how fucking beautiful she is. I've had acute tunnel vision for the past two days, because all I can focus on is her. She looked back across at me, and I visibly shivered. I knew it wasn't the cold, cause my body temperature was raging.

"How are you doing?" she asked me softly.

"I don't… I don't know," I mumbled.

It was the only truth I could tell, because being next to this girl ripped up the rule book of everything I thought I knew about how the world worked, everything I thought I knew about how 'love' worked, and everything I thought I knew about how I worked.

"Here, let me take a look at your eyes," she said, scooting round to face me again, and taking my head in her hands.

I thought I was going to explode when she stared deeply into my eyes, moving her head around and studying how I followed her.

"Hmmm," she said.

"Hmmm?"

"Well, your pupils are dilated, but you seem to be able to focus well enough," she said.

Of course my pupils are dilated, the most gorgeous woman in all creation is touching my face. I lowered my eyes. I didn't know how much more of this I could take.

"You're hot," she said.

My eyes shot back up to meet hers.

"I mean, you feel hot," she said, realising the innuendo, and putting the back of her hand on my forehead as if to prove her professional point.

"Who's prime minister?" she said, embarking on a comedy set of head injury questions.

"A cunting tory arsehole," I replied, making her burst out laughing. God how I loved it when she laughed. I could be in a fucking monsoon and the sun would be bursting out of my heart if she was laughing. She was so close, I could see her beautiful breasts rising and falling with her breath.

"How many fingers?" she asked.

I swear I must have turned bright red in an instant as my shiny new pervert brain gifted me a 3D IMAX surround sound presentation of how many Fitch fingers I wanted and where. I couldn't stop the gasp that escaped from my throat, nor the way I tore my eyes from hers and stared into the sand. The sand that I would have been quite happy to have swallow me up in my entirety, as I heard Emily emit a nervous giggle, and knew that she had clocked what I had been thinking about.

"Am I holding up," she said, trying to hide the laughter in her voice. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Dear Universe, please let me have a severe concussion, in order that I may sink into an unassailable coma and never have to wake up to face this embarrassment again. But Emily was still close, and waiting for her answer, so I reluctantly looked up at her hand.

"Two," I mumbled reluctantly.

She seemed satisfied with my answer, and smiled at me with genuine affection. I was pleased to have somehow gotten away with the recent fiasco, and not sent her running for the hills with my gutter dwelling mind. And then my brain decided to completely disconnect from whatever it what that controlled my mouth.

"Good number," I said quietly.

Emily's eyes lit up.

"Naomi Campbell," she said in faux shock. "I didn't think you were that kind of girl."

I'm not, I wanted to protest. It's just you and your saucy temptress ways. You make me say and think and feel all kinds of things I have no control over. But I just bit my bottom lip and stared at her nervously. I kept waiting for the bottom to fall out of my world, for her to realise what a useless pervoid fuck I was and abandon me. But she didn't, she just kept looking at me from the depths of that infernal closeness. I was the vampire and she was the sun, and any minute now her power and her purity were going to make this evil body burst into flames.

"You're ok, Blondie, I think you're gonna make it," she grinned. "There's just one more thing I need to try."

"Ok," I said, and sat there passively awaiting the next concussion test.

But it never came. Instead she leaned in and brushed her lips delicately against mine. It was sweet, and uninvasive. It was a question. Am I allowed to do this? Is this what you want? I'm sure she already knew that answer, but I opened my mouth to give my assent.

Were we only supposed to blow the bloody doors off? Cause suddenly the whole building was in fucking flames. My hands were in her hair before I even knew what I was doing. The taste of her seemed to be reverberating round my whole body and doing little dances on my flesh. She opened her mouth to meet mine, and when she moved her lips against me I felt it in my stomach. I felt it in the back of my neck. I felt it in my bones. Like she had always been there, but I had only now discovered her and woken up. I felt her tongue dancing across my lips, and my hands pulled her tighter in as I opened up to welcome her. I'm not sure what I had been doing up until now, because this was fucking kissing, man. This was the most glorious feeling on earth. This was kissing that mattered. They should have important summits on kissing that felt this good, to make sure that there was more kissing of this nature, because if everyone could understand this feeling then the world would be a place of peace and unity and joy. There were little men and women performing rituals of celebration in my head, dancing and chanting 'Emily Fitch's Lips, Emily Fitch's Lips' over and over again. Because Emily Fitch's lips were the single most important thing in the world right now, and they must never be allowed to leave mine. I felt myself trying to chase her, when she eventually pulled away.

"Woah," she said in genuine surprise, and exhaled strongly a couple of times before she took her next breath. "Well, that seemed to go well."

We stared at each other breathlessly, neither one of us seeming to know what to say.

"Do you want to go out?" said Emily eventually. "I mean with me. Do you want to go out with me on a date?"

I could barely restrain myself from answering with 'well duh', but managed to squeeze out a simple yes. There followed a brief interval for more breathless staring before we heard the voices of the other women approaching as they wandered inshore after class.

"Do you want a ride?" said Emily, collapsing into giggles as she realised yet again how we suddenly seemed only to be able to communicate in innuendo. "Home. Do you want a ride home on my scooter?"

"I'd love a ride with you," I said, no longer caring that I sounded her friend Cook.

"Fuck," she smiled, suddenly looking coy, which only made her even more devilishly attractive. "What have you done to my brain?"

"Well I could tell you," I said. "But I'd have to give you a chemistry lesson."

"Is that what this is?" she said, standing up and pulling me to my feet. "Chemistry?"

Observation four – I didn't much care what it was any more, but I knew that I wanted it.