Author's Notes

Ladies, and gentlemen, boys and girls, I'd like you all to gather round. In honor of this chapter, and hitting over fifty reviews, and getting over 1,000 hits on this story in a single twenty-four hour period, I present to you… a shameless self-plug. Yes, that's right. I'd like to appeal to your humanitarian side, and direct you kindly to my profile, where you will find a homepage link that will direct you to a book. Not just any book. What's so special about this book, you ask? Well, I wrote it. It's called Here, in my Head, and while it doesn't contain Naomi and Emily, it's still a pretty decent read that you might consider checking out.

Come on. Help a starving author out. You know you want to.

Warnings: metaphorical ice bucket, convenient store violence

Abnormally Attracted to Sin

Chapter 9: Let's See In Cold Daylight

By Persephone's Nautical Nun

She stiffens, completely stops moving, and I start to wonder if I've crossed some kind of line, but then her grip on the back of my neck tightens, and she opens her mouth, and her breath is hot, and bitter, and comes in heavy pants. I can't help but tighten my hold on her hips, and pull her impossibly closer to me.

She breaks her lips away from mine and leans her head back against my shoulder, her eyes still closed, as though she's afraid this won't be real when she opens them. I can't believe it's real anyway. Her neck is elongated and exposed, and I can see the pulse just beneath her skin, and I don't think about it as I lower my head and press my lips against it. I can feel the vibrations of her groan against my mouth, but otherwise wouldn't have known it happened. It causes me to snake my tongue out and taste the flesh of her neck, the pure taste of sweat and skin exciting me somehow, and I move my hands back to her waist, wrapping my arms around her.

She pulls away from me, and I find myself growling in frustration. That was unexpected. I don't have time to vocalize my discomfort, though, because she turns around to face me and covers my mouth with her own, forcing my lips open with her tongue. Oh, my God, she tastes like alcohol and I think I'm becoming drunker by the second. Her hands are raking back across my scalp, and tugging gently at the roots of my hair, and I find myself biting down on her bottom lip in retaliation.

She rips our lips apart by pulling back at my hair, forcing my head back and reattaching her lips to the side of my neck. I groan as she starts to suck, and I start to feel something growing in the pit of my stomach. She moves upwards from my neck to my ear, taking the lobe between her teeth and nibbling ever so gently. "Let's get out of here," she says, and I'm nodding dumbly, because higher brain functions no longer work.

My world is spinning, and my head is swimming, and I know I'm being dragged somewhere by my wrist, but I can't concentrate on where I'm going, or who I'm with, or where I am, or even who I am. All I know is that there's this deliciously warm body out in front of me, and I'll die if I don't grab hold of it and hold on forever.

The need is so intense that I somehow have her up against the wall outside of the club, my hands wrapped loosely around her neck, tilting her head towards mine, and drinking her in. I can feel the chill of the night air against my body, so I press myself even closer to her. Her hand moves to my collarbone and grabs a fistful of my shirt, twisting, as her tongue slides against my teeth, and I can feel the wanting radiating off of her.

Move, feet, move! I'm being dragged again, away from the club, down the street, and I have to stop several times for a kiss, or a touch, because I'm going to explode if I don't touch her, right now, and we really can't find somewhere fast enough.

She throws me against the wall halfway up the stairs to her apartment and kisses me. Hard. I can feel her teeth against my lips, and I wonder for a second if she's not trying to completely devour me. I have to tilt my head upwards to meet her, and I'm suddenly very thankful for stairs. I gasp as she hooks her index finger in the hem of my pants before she proceeds to drag me up the rest of the stairs.

She fumbles with her keys at the door, and whatever was building in the pit of my stomach earlier has turned into a tugging at my insides, and I lean against her, bracing myself with my arm against the door, trapping her between me and the closed door. I can hear her sigh, and she leans her forehead against the wood as I slide my hands down her back and around her hips to her thighs and back up to her shoulders.

She finally gets her door unlocked and we stumble through the threshold, almost falling over on ourselves. Somehow, we manage to stay upright, and the next thing I know, I'm pinned against the newly closed door, doorknob digging wonderfully into my back, and Emily's got my wrists pinned against the door.

Emily…

I flash of doubt goes through me as she trails her tongue slowly up from the base of my neck to my jaw line, but I push it aside. She trails her fingers down the other side of my jaw line and guides out mouths together, even and slow, and the sudden change disturbs me. She slides her tongue between my lips and kisses me deeply, lazily, exploring my mouth until I can't breathe anymore.

What happened? Why the change?

She breaks the kiss and finally looks at me, and that's when I understand. I can't maintain eye contact with her for too long, because I'm afraid I'll drown in the emotional depths I see in them.

God, I'm a prick.

There's a flash of confusion across her face, and then she's trailing kisses down my neck again, trying to reignite whatever it was that just went out. It's no use, though. Everything's come flooding back to me, and now everything's worse than ever, and it's all because I finally let myself go.

Well, I shall be sure to keep myself one hundred percent contained from now on, won't I?

I bring my hands up to her shoulders and push her away from me. I don't even know what her reaction is because I can't bring myself to look anywhere other than the floor. I swallow hard against the lump that's gotten caught in my throat. "I can't," I force out, and the words are hoarse. I clear my throat. "I'm sorry."

I feel her take a few steps away from me before she sighs. "Of course."

I feel the need to explain, even though I know I don't know how. "It's just…" my hands move in front of my body, searching for something to say that can make this better. "Why does everything have to mean something?"

I finally look up to see her leaning against the metal pillar in her living room, arms folded across her chest, and her eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. Possibly the same one I was fascinated with moments ago. She looks more exhausted than I've ever seen her. "Have you considered the alternative?" she asks, and her voice sounds very far away.

It isn't much of an answer. I don't even know what it means.

She takes a few steps towards me, and I get the feeling she's barely holding herself together. "Good night, Naomi," she says, in that tired voice of hers. She moves past me and into her bedroom, closing it tightly behind her.

I hang my head, and show myself out of her place.

I don't go home. I don't go anywhere. I walk aimlessly and mindlessly, smoking cigarette after cigarette, and try to make sense out of this night.

In the cold light of morning, it still looks the same.

*****

A little bell chimes as I push open the door to a convenience store, and I grit my teeth. I'm so tired, and wired, and essentially tweaked out (which is ridiculous, because I don't touch uppers), that even that little piece of sunshine is enough to rub me the wrong way.

"How may I help you?" the woman behind the register asks monotonously, yawning. It's good to see someone else shares my distaste for all things nice and happy.

I ask for a pack of cigarettes and she rings them up for me. I pay her, and we don't bother exchanging thank yous or come agains, and I'm extremely thankful for it.

A sharp pain shoots through my jaw, and suddenly I'm on the floor.

"What the fuck?" I exclaim, bringing a hand up to the back of my head. I hit it on the counter on the way down, and there's already a large bump on my head. I look up to find Katie towering over me, and I think I can actually see the smoke coming out of her nostrils.

"Now, I don't know what you did," she says, her voice low, pointing an angry finger at me. "But I was on the phone with Emily all night, and I was left with the very strong urge to hit you." She shakes her hand and examines, and I think she's hurt herself a bit.

Well, good.

"Mission fucking accomplished," I grumble standing up. I'm still holding my head, and I hope she'll take it as a white flag and back off. I don't have the energy to fight with her right now. I work my jaw once or twice for emphasis. It was already stiff, and I was slightly worried about my speaking abilities in several hours.

Damn, girl could throw a punch.

"I would ask you what the fuck you did, but you wouldn't tell me, anyway," she says, and I think if she'd been tall enough to look down her nose at me, she would have done it.

"I didn't do anything," which technically isn't a lie, but rather the problem itself.

She nods, disbelieving. "Right. Exactly. I don't have time for this." She turns on her heels and heads towards the drinks in the back, opening the door and grabbing a container of chocolate milk. On her way back to the register, she grabs a package or two of cinnamon rolls.

I glance at the cashier and Katie and back, and I'm filled with disappointment. I had liked that woman, but she hasn't reacted to the scene that just happened a foot away from her.

Funny. That's exactly what I liked about her before.

I push open the front door and cringe at the fucking bell again as I walk through it. I stop on the sidewalk to pack my cigarettes and light one. It didn't take long for my habit to come back in the least, and I'm fairly uncomfortable with that idea.

"Stuck around for round two, did you?" Katie asks me, coming out of the store, her items in a bag.

I don't rise to the bait, instead gesturing towards her purchases. "Give up on your girlish figure, then?"

She rolls her eyes and looks off towards the road. "They're for Emily, not that it's any of your business," she explains. She turns her face back to me, and its lost a lot of it's nastiness, though not all. "Comfort food. Ever since we were kids."

Well, I don't know what to say to that. I don't know what to say at all. I don't even know why I'm still here. I want nothing more than to get out of this situation. "Right."

She scoffs at me and stomps off to her car, and I inhale deeply on my cigarette. I wince as my jaw flares up with pain at the motion and realize this is going to be a long day.

*****

I wince as I hold an ice pack against my cheek. I had purposefully avoided any reflective surfaces on my way home, and waited until I was in the privacy of my own bathroom to survey the damage.

It's definitely swollen, but not as badly as I thought it would be, and a purple bruise, that gets deeper where her knuckles hit. I can still open my jaw as widely as I ever could, and the soreness is bearable, so I think I'll be alright as long as I can keep the swelling down.

Still, I have every intention of living like the Phantom of the fucking opera for a few days.

The bump on my head isn't nearly as much of an issue, and after a few aspirin that headache goes away.

I've got the curtains closed, and the lights off at eight o'clock in the morning on a Saturday, trying desperately to fall asleep, because I haven't gotten any sleep since Thursday night, but the damn ice pack is cold, and making it impossible for me to get comfortable.

Well, that's the excuse I'm going with, anyway.

I'm trying not to recognize the fact that my brain is still reeling with flashes of Emily. I'm not revisiting the places we could have gone if she hadn't broken the mood with her damn feelings. I'm not remembering the way my hands felt as they moved across her body.

I'm just not.

I don't know at what point I fell asleep. I don't even remember falling asleep. I figure my body must have finally just turned itself off, like a toy whose batteries had run dry. But the next thing I'm conscious of is my phone ringing. I grope for it a few times before finding it and discovering that Effy's calling me… and has apparently been trying to call me for the last two hours.

I groan into the phone, not even bothering with an actual greeting.

"I need you to clear something up for me," she dives right in. "I heard from Cook, who heard from JJ, who said that Freddie said Katie punched you out. What the fuck?"

There are way too many people involved in that sentence for it to make even a tiny bit of sense. "Okay, first of all… what?" I ask, still not completely coherent. It kind of feels like I'm waking up from a coma, or at least what I think waking up from a coma might feel like, since I've never actually done it.

"Did Katie punch you out?" she simplifies.

"Only technically. Depends on your definition."

"Word has it; you went down in one hit."

"Well, to be fair, she did sneak attack me, and I was exhausted at the time," I try and reason. I still am exhausted, actually, and would love nothing more than to go back to bed. What time is it, anyway?

Oh, good lord, it's three in the afternoon.

I'm suddenly amazed at my ability to function during daylight hours during the week if I get my days and nights so fucked up during the weekend. Perhaps I underestimate myself.

"Oh, my god," she says, though of course it doesn't sound like shock at all. Effy's voice is never anything but even and controlled. "I'm coming round."

"No, Effy, don't," I start, but she's already hung up on me. I think about trying to call her back and talking her out of it, but I really don't have the energy to try and fight her over the phone. Though, really, I don't have the energy to have a conversation of any sort with her in person, because then I'll have to be on the top of my game.

Effy's observational skills and intellect are really fun when you're feeling okay, or when they're directed at other people, and that's about it.

Well, I've got no choice. I can come out of hibernation early, and meet her downstairs, and have a chat on the porch, or go for a walk. Or, I can continue to live like a hermit, and risk my mother showing her inside, which would no doubt lead to many embarrassing tales of her yesteryears, and offering Effy all the hard liquor.

Ugh. Mum still hasn't even seen me, yet.

I make my way quietly down the stairs and out the front door, deciding that waiting on the porch for Effy might be in my best interest. The sun's way too bright for its own good, though, and I have to squint in its light.

Effy doesn't take long showing up, and the first thing she does is examine my face. "What'd you do, then?" she asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Why do you automatically assume I did something?" I ask, arching an offended eyebrow in her direction as she sits down next to me.

"Well, Katie may be a bitch," she says, lighting a cigarette. "But I've never known her to be prone to random acts of violence."

I sigh and look out towards the road, refusing to answer her question. It would just open up a big can of worms that I don't want to open up. Can't I just get some sleep? Can't I rest before I'm forced to go back and investigate all of this?

She changes tactic. "Date with Emily didn't go so well, I take it."

"No, it went fine," I say, shaking my head. "It went really well, actually." I can see her draw back slightly, and I know I've finally shocked her. Score one for me. Too bad I'm in no mood to savor the moment. "But it wasn't a date."

"No?" She's wearing her skeptical look. Jesus Christ, fuck off and go analyze yourself.

I'm sorry. I love Effy. Really, I do. Just not when she's focused on me. "No," I respond evenly.

"What am I missing here?" she asks, shaking her head. "Great night last night, bruised face this morning. Where are the missing hours?"

I rub my face in my hands and sigh because I really don't want to be doing this right now. "Please, Effy," I say, and I hope I don't have to say any more. I hope I don't have to plead with her to just let this drop for now. I know there will be questions that I have to answer eventually, but I need to figure out who's worth answering to and who's not, and damnit, right now I could just use a friend.

Thankfully, I don't have to explain all these things, because Effy just leans back in her seat and takes hold of my hand. She continues smoking, and starts to entertain herself by blowing smoke rings, and performing other various smoke-related experiments.

She doesn't say a word, but I know she's there, and it's exactly what I need.