My head. My fucking head. I didn't drink that much. I know I didn't. Did I? Oh fuck. I feel sorry for Naomi. Naomi... I was in the same bed as her wasn't I? I cracked an eye open but didn't see the blonde laying beside me, only a cold empty place next to me. I'm sure I was in the same bed... Shit. I got up from the bed and crept around the corners, hoping to see her sitting somewhere but she wasn't. I sat at the table and bit my lip. Where was she? I did come to Ireland didn't I? This isn't some sort of weird dream? I'm I high? Fuck, I am aren't I?

"Alright Ems, I've got some fucking good food here!"

I turned so quickly I actually felt an ache in my neck. "Naomi!"

She raised her eyebrows, "Yeah. Er, yeah."

"Sorry, it's just I thought I was... high or something."

She laughed, "High? Save that for another night, yeah? Do you like lasagne?"

I just nodded, not really understanding why she was asking.

"Good, because I'm making it tonight. I can only make that along with toast and poptarts."

"You don't really make poptarts, you just heat them."

She shook her head with mock sadness, "You and Effy. Pair of twats when it comes to my food."

"Effy?" I laughed.

"Apparently my sandwiches aren't the best. They are. Fucking good in fact. I'll make you one. Not now though, I'm making lasagne tonight," She winked at me.

"Shouldn't you have a hangover? My head kills and you drank way more than me."

Naomi smirked, "You get used to it."

I watched her as she brought in two bags and placed them on the kitchen cabinet opposite the table I was at. She first took off a rain coat she had on and shook out some of the rain from it. She began unpacking the bags and placing them in cupboards. I knew I should help, but I was content just watching her.

"So what is there to do around here?"

Naomi laughed, "Fuck all." She turned away from the cupboard and rested against the cabinets casually. "Just the company of one another and maybe some places to explore. And get drunk of course."

"Of course," I smiled. I didn't mind her company one bit. "Well I don't mind what we do."

"Watching films sound alright? There's a thunderstorm outside you see."

I hadn't noticed until she said. The rain could be heard loudly hitting the roof and windows of the small cottage. It was only a few seconds later that a loud boom could be heard.

Naomi sighed, "Would happen just when we arrive. Ah well, I've got some good shit in this place."

I laughed, "Like what? My Little Pony?"

"What? No! Why the fuck would I have My Little Pony?" She snorted. "I do, on the other hand, have some good horrors."

"Horrors? I don't like horrors," I mumbled.

She rolled her eyes, "Of course." She walked out of the kitchen area and beckoned me to follow with a wave of her hand.

I hadn't explored the cottage yet and hadn't actually seen the living room. She walked in and raised her eyebrows suggestively at the room. It was no surprise really. It had shelves of films and a fucking huge TV.

"Fuckin' hell..."

She went over to a small table and opened a draw, revealing packets of cigarettes. She took one out and lit it. "Uncle is a fucking huge film fan. Smokes a lot too. My favourite uncle," She smiled. "You should see the other room as well. Record player with the fucking biggest vinyl collection you'll ever see." She used her hands to gesture how big the collection was and grinned. "I'll show you that later. Let's focus on the films now." She went over to the first huge shelf of them and began to scan. "No horrors," She mumbled, "What about a comedy?"

"I don't like comedies either..." I was beginning to feel like a pain.

"Good, neither do I. I hate actions too, so none of them."

"Romance?" I didn't really suppose she would like them.

She shrugged, "Sure. Nothin' wrong with a bit of love." She scanned again and finally picked something out. "Elizabethtown sound alright?" Apparently she didn't mind romances.

"Never seen it. Who's in it?" I went over and looked over her shoulders at the DVD case.

"Kirsten Dunst and Orlando Bloom."

"Sounds good to me," I nodded.

"Oh you hear Orlanda Bloom and instantly want to see it," She laughed.

I pushed her lightly and laughed, "Shut up! Gay remember?" It felt so comfortable saying it.

"Ah, it's all about Kirsten Dunst then."

She placed the cigarette in an ashtray as she put the DVD into the TV. She turned the TV on and waited for it to show the film. When it did, she picked up the cigarette and placed it back in her mouth.

I took a place on the sofa in front of the TV and followed her as she came and sat beside me, relaxing straight into it. "Woo! I'm tired already."

I chuckled, "A lot of energy you hold there Naomi."

She yawned, "I know. I smoke too much." She stubbed out the cigarette and pressed play on the remote.

It took me a while to direct my attention from Naomi's blue eyes to the actual TV.


"That was fucking shit," Naomi mumbled as the end credits rolled.

It was. I nodded my head and laughed. "It was a bit shit."

A yawn escaped her lips prompting her to cover her mouth and throw her head back slightly. "I am fucking knackered Ems."

Surprisingly, I wasn't all that tired. I'd spent most of the film thinking things over, more specifically thinking of mentioning Naomi's encounter with that girl at the party. I was beginning to question whether it was a spur of the moment, or an actual sexual preference. I could easily slip it in casually and get an answer, I didn't want to seem curious for my own purposes, but then again, Katie had already gone and fucking told her I liked her.

"I'm gonna get started on the lasagne." She pushed herself up and walked out the room.

I sat by myself for a while, still wondering whether to ask, but decided to just forget it for the night. I got up and went to the kitchen where I saw Naomi was taking various tins and packaging.

"I always fucking loose the pasta sheets. Always."

She started checking cupboards and mumbling to herself. I directed my eyes to the table where I had been sitting and noticed the box of pasta sheets. I chuckled and picked them up, walking around the table to where she was.

"Looking for these?"

I hadn't realised how close behind to her I had gotten until she turned around and our noses were mere millimetres from touching. She looked straight at me causing the familiar sensation of fire on my cheeks that seemed to be happening more and more recently.

Slowly, a smirk began to twitch at her lips. She looked down at my hands, "Exactly what I was looking for." She took it from my hand before turning around again.

I blinked and swallowed the lump in my throat and cleared it with a small cough, "Need any help?"

She shook her head, "You just sit down and I'll do all the work." She began to laugh to herself, "I've never really said that about food."

"What do you mean?" I knew exactly what she meant.

She turned to get a recipe book from the place beside me and I noticed an amused smile on her face. "Nothing."

I laughed, "It's alright, I've managed to guess what you meant."

She placed a saucepan on the stove and began adding bits and pieces to it, stirring at first and then turning up the heat. She came and sat opposite me.

"Oh? And what did you suppose I meant?" She smirked.

I gave a nervous laugh.

She shook her head from amusement before picking up a salt shaker and fiddling with it. I decided this was probably the best time to ask her considering we were somewhat on the subject on her sex life. Forget about putting it off. "So, do you always do all the work?"

"Food or sex?" She asked casually.

"Sex," I mumbled back, shyly.

She looked up from the salt shaker then back down at it, shrugging. "Depends really."

I licked my lips, "On what?"

She shook some of the salt out on the table and began making shapes within it with her finger. I watched as she did it, waiting for an answer.

"On who it is. If the person is a twat then they can do all the work. If it's someone who I've actually found interest in, maybe. Most of the time though, it's both." She looked up at me, "I'm sure you don't want to hear about my sex life though," She chuckled.

I did. I did a lot. "Better hearing about yours than mine."

"Why?"

I looked away embarrassed, "Because I don't actually have one right now."

She chuckled, "I see. No girls you've seen round at parties taking your interest?"

You. "I doubt any of them are gay," I said.

"You don't have to be gay to get with a girl."

Here was my chance. "First hand experience?"

She smirked, "Cheeky."

I didn't know if she was going to carry on or leave it at that, but I hoped she would tell me.

She shrugged and looked back down at the salt on the table. "I find it ridiculous that the sex you get with determines what orientation you are. I mean, sometimes I find a female to be, well, more attractive than a male and sometimes it's the other way around."

"So you're bisexual?" I tried to clarify.

She shook her head. "No, I wouldn't say that. I'd say..." She bit her lip, "Some nights I'm gay, other nights I'm straight." She smirked and looked at me. "There's no point labelling what can't be labelled."

A lump appeared in my throat again, but I just nodded. I wondered how often she had gay nights in comparison to straight nights.

There was a noise from behind her, causing her to turn around quickly. "Fuck! The sauce!" She got up quickly and took the saucepan off the stove. "Let's leave that conversation for another time, yeah? I'll give the lasagne my full attention for tonight."

"Okay," was all I said.

I looked over at the salt on the table but saw it had all been swept to one side. She reached over and took a bit of it.

"Sauce could do with some salt."


I cringed as I took a bite, "This is, um, really nice Naomi." I tried to like it. I really did. I tried to get past the fact that the sauce tasted a bit like, well, shit.

She tapped her plate with her fork before cringing in a similar fashion as mine. "Alright so it's still toast and poptarts." She laughed and leaned back in her seat, "Fancy a sandwich?"

I nodded and picked up my plate along with hers, emptying them into the bin while she got up to start making her apparent 'fucking good' sandwiches – prompting a giggle to myself and a confused smile from Naomi. I hadn't realised how fucking cold it was until I sat back down at the table. I shivered and hugged myself.

"You cold?" Naomi asked straight away.

"Oh, kind of," I mumbled, not wanting to be a bother to her.

"Follow me mia cara," She said while kicking the fridge door closed. She picked up the plates of sandwiches and walked out of the kitchen area carefully.

"Mia what?"

She laughed before turning around, using her back to push open a door that I hadn't been past yet. "Mia cara," She said again. "And here is the beautiful vinyl collection. Magnifico, sì?"

Where was all this foreign language coming from? Not that I minded – I rather liked it. I was finding it extremely attractive. "Do I want to know what you're saying?" I asked with a quick laugh as I glanced around the room. It was a dull, yet pretty yellow with vintage flower patterns running around the room. There was just one sofa which was one of those old ones you pictures your nan to have – the flowers sewn in and the colour to be off white, more creamy in fact. Even the lighting was dim, with only the lighting of a couple lamps, making the entire room look comfortable and homey.

"I was saying nice things, don't worry."

I smiled, "What did you say?"

She placed the plates down on the small table in front of the sofa and smirked at me before going over to the record player. "How do you feel about Bob Dylan?"

"Never really listened to him," I said truthfully as I sat down on the sofa. I leaned forward and took a bite out of one of sandwiches. It was actually pretty nice, but with sandwiches being virtually impossible to mess up, it was hardly an achievement. I didn't tell Naomi this though.

"You've never listened to Bob Dylan? What the fuck have you been listening to?"

I took another bite, "I dwunno, struff?"

"Emily Fitch! Don't talk with your mouth full," She said, with her back still to me.

I half choked on the sandwich as I laughed. "I said; I dunno, stuff? Mainly just Katie's shit."

"Which was?" She inquired.

"Spice Girls, Liberty X, Westlife. That shit."

She snorted and came and joined me on the sofa. She closed her eyes, relaxing her features. A small smile appeared on her face as she waited for the music to start. A guitar began to play and she cracked her eye open as she glanced at me. I couldn't help but smile back. She was too beautiful. I don't think I was ever going to stop saying that in my head, not until the day when it wasn't true - AKA: never.

"Hurricane, Bob Dylan's best song in my opinion. 8 and a half minutes of pure amazingness. Try and get Lady Gaga to sing an 8 minute song without it mentioning her muff munching tendencies or something about a poking faces."

I laughed and turned onto my side so I was facing Naomi directly. "It's called 'Poker Face' in reference to the expression."

"Whatever," She said with a grin, "I don't listen to shit like that."

"What do you listen to then? Besides Bob Dylan, of course."

"Of course," She repeated with an amused tone. "Marc Bolan, ever heard of him?"

I shook my head, "No."

She rolled her eyes, "Ever seen Billy Elliot?"

"Yeah, I've seen that. The ballet dancing kid?"

She laughed at, what I assumed, was my description of the film. "Yeah. The ballet dancing kid. All the good songs off that were his, well his bands. , heard them?" I shook my head. "Cosmic Dancer, Get It On, Ride a White Swan, all his."

"I like that song Ride a White Swan," I said. It always reminded me of the summer when I went round to this girls house. She was just a friend, but I adored her. She was a bit like Naomi actually, music taste wise.

She nodded, "Me too. Here comes the story of the hurricane, the man the authorities came to blame," She sang quietly as she relaxed back into the sofa again. "I'll put on after this. Though you do know what that means? A law of Naomi's vinyl room."

"What's that?" I asked, half laughing, half with fear.

"We're lighting a spliff and getting high."

I smirked, "And this is a law of yours is it?"

"Nah," She smiled, "Just decided it then. But still."

She got up from her place and left the room but was back in mere minutes with a pack of cigarettes. I watched as she put it on the table in front.

"I thought we were-"

She put her hand up, "Ah, ah, ah. Wait." She opened it and revealed a small pack of weed a long with some skins and a lighter with the odd cigarette in the pack. She rolled out two before getting up and changing the record. Ride A White Swan began blasting. She lit one of the joints and took the first drag before handing it to me.

"Here's to us. I due moschettieri!"

"What the fuck are you saying?" I giggled out, already feeling the effects.

"Who the fuck knows, Ems, who the fucks knows."


If you hadn't realised, I don't have a beta which is the reasons for any mistakes you see hehe, I'm not looking for a beta though, I'm too lazy for one. Soooo, if you see in mistakes lemme know? :D R&R!