HEY LOOK WHO'S BACK AND STILL ALIVE! you guys, I've been gone for months and I haven't lost a single follower. I've actually gained a few. I couldn't ask for better readers. Thank you all for sticking with me. I'm sorry I took so long to update, and I can't promise when the next one will be, but know I will never quit on this story. I said at the end of chapter one that I'm sticking with it no matter what, and I am. I hope this chapter isn't too bad. Thanks guys. Enjoy.
Emily
I wake up screaming for the second time in a week; sweat running down the back of my neck, bangs sticking to my forehead and a hot panic resting in my stomach and cheeks. Breathing heavily, I feel around frantically as my eyes adjust to the dark, because without having to look, I know I'm not home; the bed isn't right, the feeling isn't right, neither is the figure that bursts through the door thirty seconds later.
"What's happened?" The figure asks urgently, but steadily through the dark. Like usual, my initial reaction is to cower away from the offenders voice; which is especially too loud for my liking.
"Oh," It breathes, relieved, "Oh, Emily."
It starts walking towards me, and because I'm too tired to care or comprehend how vulnerable I look, I tuck my head into my arms, where it's shielded, where I don't have to see or deal with what's about to happen. Arms wrap around my shoulders in a very Cook-like way, but these arms definitely do not belong to Cook, neither did that voice; they're too skinny and gentle. Instead of a hard protective squeeze, it's a calm, inclusive hug, and I love it. The side of my head is suddenly leaning against something soft but sturdy at the same time. It smells good, comforting; like typical vanilla mixed with something warm. I don't ever want to move.
"It's okay," it whispers, rocking me the slightest bit. "It's okay, you're safe."
Normally I can't stand it when Cook rocks me back and forth, but now I can feel warm breath lightly tickle my neck and delicate fingers occasionally rubbing my shoulders. It's safe, I'm safe.
"What time is it?" I say into the foreign shoulder.
"Just past seven," they whisper.
"Where am I?" I say firmer as I realize I really do not recognize that voice.
"At my house," the grip loosens. The arms hesitantly slide from around my shoulders and the soft smell of safety drifts away with them. With the comfort gone and the dizzy sleep daze passed, it's a lot easier to lift my head and climb off the bed. Panic starts to bubble in my stomach again and with every move I make, it simmers a little louder. Standing beside the bed on the opposite side of the stranger across from me, who's now standing as well, I'm awake.
"Who's house."
"Emily," they turn and walk towards the door, "It's me," the light flicks on, "Naomi."
She stands there in a huge baggy t-shirt that ends just above her knees, her hair tussled, some strays flicking out at random, and her shadowy eyes squinting at mine as they adjust to the sudden light.
"What time did you say it was?" I ask, desperate to take her mind off the part of me she just witnessed.
"Just past seven," she answers croakily.
"You sound different." It's true. I don't know how I didn't recognize her voice the second she said my name.
"It's the morning; my voice is usually a little croaky." She yawns and stretches her arms above her head; the same arms that made me enjoy feeling protected for the first time in years just five minutes ago.
"I have to work in half an hour. I should get ready."
"Emily…"
"I have to get changed," I say, desperately trying to ignore the shivers of arousal spreading through my limbs at the sound of my name being said in that fucking morning voice.
She lingers there, in the doorway, in her baggy shirt with her long legs on display for five seconds before she breathes heavily through her nose and walks out closing the door.
I've never gotten changed so quickly.
Freshly clothed and freshened up, and definitely more awake, I enter the kitchen to Naomi in black sweats and a white t-shirt, the kind of fabric that hugs your body without being tight. She's standing over the stove, making what smells like bacon.
"Breakfast?" She asks without even turning to look at me.
"Uh, I really should get going, Naomi. I-"
"It's half passed seven, Emily. I'll drive you. Sit." She points her spatula to the left where there is an elevated counter with two high stools set on the other side. I hesitate for a moment, but only a moment.
We don't talk; I just sit there, and let the sounds of pancakes sizzling and bacon bubbling fill the quiet neither one of us wants to take on. It only takes another forty-five and a half seconds for Naomi to place three perfect pancakes and five pieces of bacon on a plate and put it on the counter in front of me, along with a bottle of syrup. Suddenly, the food seems a hundred times more appetizing. Finally giving my bitch of a hangover some attention, I begin to rub my temples and let my breathing even out without gasping like an idiot because I definitely was not just holding it for forty-five and a half seconds.
"How're you feeling?" she asks me, leaning her elbows on the lower part of the counter and living up to her apparent reputation of bravery by being the first to take on the silence without a stutter.
"Fine," I say through a quarter of my first pancake. She exhales an effortless laugh and turns off the stove. Grabbing her own plate- two pancakes and three bacons pieces -she walks around the counter and hops on the stool next to me. "How'd I get here?"
"Cab," she shrugs. I don't have to look to my right to know she's looking at me with those damn eyes.
"Right."
There's a period of time between that last word and my phone starting to vibrate loudly in my pocket. About three seconds. Three slow seconds holding the possibility that if we had hit four, I would have looked at her. And if I had of looked at her, I wouldn't have been able to look away. Those three seconds held that possibility. The possibility that I don't want to think about, because it's a possibility I want too badly to happen.
"Yeah?" I answer through another mouthful of pancake, trying to chew loud enough to block out my thoughts.
"Emsy!" Katie's excited high pitched exclamation makes me jerk the phone away from my face.
"Morning, Katie," I sigh.
"You alright?" She asks immediately.
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, you were pretty pissed last night. Naomi practically had to carry you out the door."
"Oh, yeah," I chance a side glance at Naomi, who's suddenly intrigued by her food, "right. Yeah, no, I'm fine."
"Good, I wanted to make sure you were okay. Anyway, Freds and I are having a little hangout tonight at mine. Want to come? You can bring Naomi if you like."
I really, really, really do not want to spend another night with my sister and Freddie. I'm about to voice so, but then Naomi looks at me again, and this time, she caught me. She looks at me like she knows what's going through my mind. She stares at me with pleading eyes; not a sad, begging plead, just a plead that says 'Come on Emily, don't be a tit' and hits something in my stomach and something else in my subconscious. Something that I don't realize makes me change my answer until after I've said it.
"Yeah, okay Katie. We'll be there."
I finished eating as fast as I could after hanging up with Katie. When Naomi dropped me off all I managed was a pathetic 'Thanks, see you later' before I jumped out of her car as quick as possible. I haven't seen Effy since last night.
It's fast paced as shit at Hanks today. I've had to clean up four disgusting drink spills, take two birthday cakes and four bundles of balloons out to some bratty kids with obedient parents, and tolerate three sleazy, drunken attempts at seduction by a determined group of middle aged men. I love this job, I really do, but that doesn't mean it's perfect.
I haven't been able to stop thinking about this morning; it's the only thing that's been distracting me enough to get me through this day alive so far; I'm losing myself in my own denial. I'm not even comfortable with Cook on nights like that. Cook comforts me, but I've never been comfortable in that situation. The idea that Naomi not only witnessed it, but wrapped her arms around me and calmed me down without hesitating a second, is too overwhelming to acknowledge. I'm ignoring the truth that Naomi saw my vulnerability, and I'm running with everything I have from the idea that for the first time in my life someone embraced me and I felt like I belonged there.
"Oi, sweet cheeks! How about another round of beers over here? I miss your wonderful eyes!"
I look up at the group of drunken men, all gaping at me as I wipe down an empty table. Taking a few deep breaths and muttering some words that would definitely get me fired, I smile a sweet smile that drips with sarcasm, not that they can tell the difference, grab my cloth and head to the bar to make their drinks.
I haven't even given myself time to think about going to Katie's tonight. This is going to be a long fucking day.
Eventually, work did end. I just experienced my first terrible day at work. Now I have to go meet Naomi so we can head to Katie's together. Knowing that I have to go and confront Naomi should make me extremely nervous, terrified even, but I'm not. I feel light; like there's a floating reassurance following me, convincing me that I'm going to be fine. I feel like, instead of walking towards a confrontation I don't want to deal with, I'm heading home; somewhere safe.
Something like that, anyway.
Nowhere in this area is a long walk, really; I'm at Naomi's, thankfully, before the calm feeling retreats. Naomi's a smart person; she's going to ask me about it. She's going to ask me what sort of horrible things I must have had to go through to end up waking up to my own screams. She's going to know that something has to happen to a person for them to have nightmares like that. She's going to read my mind, and she's going to confront me about it.
I knock on the door with a surprisingly steady hand. There's some rustling on the other side, a small crash, some loud thumps, then the door swings open to a frazzled looking Naomi.
"What the actual fuck do you wear to a casual event?" She's asks, slightly out of breath. She moves out of the way and dashes down the hallway, back to her room.
"Uh, something casual?" I say as I walk in and sit on her bed.
"See, the thing is," she stops rummaging through her drawer and faces me, smiling nervously, "I don't do casual."
"I've gathered," I say, looking down at all the black uniform articles abandoned on the floor. "You must have some, you know, normal people, everyday clothes?"
"But then see that's a whole other thing, isn't it? I do, but that is a whole section of clothing that I am not equipped to deal with." She goes back to rummaging through drawers, throwing clothes that look absolutely fine on the floor behind her. It's entertaining, to witness her without her spontaneity and quick impulse for once.
"Hey, calm down," I walk up behind her. "I've seen you in casual clothes before, why's now so different?"
"Because Emily, I have to look convincing."
"It can't be that hard!" I say just before she throws a t-shirt in my face.
"Yes it can!"
She continues on her frantic hunt around the room, tossing clothes on the floor like she's having a meltdown. I let out a breath of frustration, look down, and pick up a black tank top, a blue sweater, and a grey pair of skinny jeans and lay them on her bed. It's starting to warm up a bit now, or at least its finished snowing. It's just been pissing rain, turning all the soft, snowman-making-snow into disgusting, dirty slush. But it is still cold, so the black tank with the sweater will work fine.
"Naomi," I try showing her the outfit I've picked. She ignores me. "Naomi," I say a little louder; still nothing. "Naomi!" I say even louder, but it's like she's deaf. "NOAMS!" I yell; that does it. She spins around.
"Yeah? Sorry," she says quietly.
"Here," I point at the outfit, "this is fine."
She examines it for about two seconds before shrugging, "Yeah, that'll work. Thanks Em."
I nod and leave the room so she can change. When she's done, we grab our bags, I grad my coat, and we head out.
We don't talk about the nicknames.
"You do it."
"What? No, you do it."
"I don't want to do it!"
"What makes you think I want to do it?!"
"It's YOUR sister!"
"It's YOUR mission!"
Naomi groans childishly, "Fine," and knocks on my sister's door. She looks at me as I try to hide my smug grin. "Shut up."
I start to laugh just as the door opens, but it stops once I see who's just opened the door. I look to my left at Naomi; she looks just as lost as me.
"Eff?" Naomi asks incredulously. Effy leaves the door open and walks back into the flat, uttering a bored "Hey" over her shoulder as she goes. I look up at Naomi, who's staring after Effy. She looks back at me, shrugs, and walks in, "I don't know, Em."
I follow Naomi into my sister's living room, only noticing my eyes were glued to her figure the entire time once we're there.
"Hey Ems," Katie grins at me. "Naomi," she nods at Naomi with a polite smile.
"Hey Katie," Naomi and I say at the same time. We look at each other, and this time, just this one time, I let it happen. Naomi does too, until Effy clears her throat.
"Uh, right," Naomi mutters while I look away, hoping my face keeps its color. "What are you doing here, Eff? You didn't come in last night."
"Oh, she stayed here," Katie says coolly.
"Yeah," Effy adds, "Freddie fucked off with some buddies and I didn't want to wake either of you up, so I stayed here."
Naomi tries to say something, but Effy looks at her; and that's all she does, she just looks, and Naomi stops talking instantly and looks back. There's about a five second silent interaction between them. The exchange of Micro-expressions eventually ends with Naomi looking seriously displeased, Effy looking smug and amused, and Katie and I looking completely lost.
"Right," I say, breaking the tension, "where's Freddie anyway?" I couldn't care less about the location of that useless prick, but it's a better subject than whatever Effy and Naomi were just thinking about, clearly.
"Speak of the devil, ay ladies!"
The feeling in the room shifts the second he walks in. He's carrying a tray of glasses and a wine bottle under his arm. I know Naomi and Effy are just as uncomfortable as me right now.
"What do you say we get this pussy tasteful shit out of the way? Then we can move on to things a little more reckless, yeah?" He reaches into his jean pocket and pulls out a handful of perfectly rolled joints. He holds them out and waggles his eyebrows at me; just like Cook does when he's about to get us into trouble. He sits down beside Katie on one of the couches, Effy on her other side, while Naomi and I sit on the smaller one across from it. "So, what do you do, Naomi?" He asks, pouring wine into each glass and handing them out.
"Oh, I'm a journalist," she says nonchalantly. I look over at her subtly. What happened to the nervous wreck that was ripping apart dressers twenty minutes ago? It's like she completely transformed her personality. I can understand why she was chosen to be a part of the FBI.
"Oh yeah? Cool," Freddie smiles. He continues to investigate her; asks multiple questions about her personal life and a lot of other things that aren't any of his fucking business. The entire time, I watch in awe, as Naomi answers every question flawlessly, without a stutter; brave, just like at breakfast this morning. After Katie and Freddie have had three glasses of wine, not noticing the rest of us have barely touched our first, Naomi excuses herself.
"I just have to use the loo," she says getting up. She looks pointedly at me for a millisecond before heading down the hallway. I only wait about two minutes, not that Katie or Freddie would notice.
"I'm going to on check on Naoms," I say, getting up to follow her. I give Effy an apologetic look as Katie and Freddie giggle and play tickle each other; Effy just waves her hand dismissively.
Once I reach the bathroom, I knock quietly, "Naomi?"
It's silent for two seconds and I consider trying the handle before the door is swung open and I'm pulled in so fast it takes the shriek out of me.
"Keep quiet," she whispers as she goes back to rummaging. "Remember, we're looking for an 'M'."
"Right," I whisper back. We rummage around for another minute or so, not finding anything except razors, beauty products, and, much to my displeasure, many unopened condom packages.
"Okay, we're not getting anywhere in here. Let's head to the other room."
She opens the door and tip toes out, leaving me no room to protest, just to follow; so I do. There's only two other rooms besides the bathroom; the main and spare bedrooms. I close the bathroom door behind us and we make our way to the main bedroom at the end of the hall.
"We need to do this quick. This is dangerous, Emily," she whispers, closing the bedroom door behind us. "If you hear anything, tell me."
I nod stiffly and begin to explore with her. We search for three minutes with no luck; there's nothing under the bed, nothing in the night stands, and nothing in the dresser.
"For fucks sake," Naomi breathes, running a hand through her hair. She scans the room. When her eyes land on me, it's like her whole body relaxes, all the stress and pressure leaves for just a second.
"Are we going to talk about it?"
Those seven words are all it takes for me to freeze. I knew she wouldn't forget, but I did.
"Talk about what?" I mutter, averting my attention back to rummaging.
"Emily…" She says my name softly, exactly like she did this morning. I don't like the flashback it gives me.
"There's nothing to talk about, Naomi."
"Why did you wake up screaming at seven o'clock this morning, Emily?"
Her blunt approach surprises me. I guess it shouldn't, but I just didn't think she'd address it like that. I'm about to say something overly defensive, something I know I'd regret the second after I said it, just because of those fucking blue eyes, but a small crash in the kitchen, distracts me.
"Something just fell in the kitchen," I tell her.
"I heard. It's probably just Freddie and Katie tripping over their own feet, Em."
She's probably right, but then the giggles get closer. "Yeah, tripping over their own feet all the way to the fucking bedroom! C'mon, closet! Quick!" I whisper anxiously, pointing to the crooked doors.
If we had taken a second longer to cram in and close the closet door, we'd have been caught. We barely fit in the small space; Katie's shoes are all over the place and Freddie's coats are smothering us. Not to mention it's pitch dark in here. Naomi is no more than an inch in front of me and the smell of her sweet perfume is clouding my senses. I can feel her breath on the top of my forehead as she stands stock still and I think my knees have involuntarily started shaking. When Katie and Freddie walk in, a putrid marijuana stench follows them and takes my Naomi scented bliss away. Freddie always has sketchy shit on him. It takes everything in me not to cough.
"What the fuck is this stuff, Freds?" Katie demands.
"Just give it a bit babe, I'm telling you," his shady voice responds.
"Whatever," Katie scoffs.
"Hey, c'mon babe, don't be like that," says Freddie's voice, followed by footsteps going away from us, but toward Katie. He whispers something and Katie giggles.
"Oh god, please no," I whisper, scrunching my eyes shut. "This is so not what I signed up for."
"No Freds," more giggles, "Not now, Effy, Naomi and my sister are here."
There's a grunt of displeasure, but the giggles stopped.
"What do you think of Naomi and Effy anyway?" Katie asks.
"Effy doesn't talk, so-"
"Yes, she does," Katie interrupts.
There's an awkward moment between them, and Naomi and I exchange a suspicious glance. By now our eyes have adjusted to the dark, and I can't stop looking at her. She's leaning towards the closet door, staring at the floor.
"Right, well I've never heard her," Freddie continues, "but Naomi's cool. She's got it bad for Em."
It takes a minute for what he just said to register. Naomi doesn't move. I don't look away.
"Oh my god, right? Like talk about subtle body language," Katie enthuses. "They've got it bad for each other. I know my sister, and I've never seen her look at a girl with anything other than lust or disgust; not since dad died." A large weight crushes my chest. I don't want to think about it, I don't want to remember, I don't want Naomi to know, I'm not ready. "She definitely doesn't know how she looks at Naomi. She wouldn't be doing it if she did."
The second Katie finishes speaking Naomi looks back at me; it's reluctant, but she looks. Neither of us move a muscle. She's got such a concentrated expression I can see the cogs and gears turning in her head. I can't look away, not from those eyes. I won't look away. I shift my feet, and step on something sharp.
"Oh Jesus fu-" Naomi covers my mouth with her hand so fast I can't believe it didn't make a smack sound. Her other hand is resting on the side of my neck. I'm frozen.
"Did you hear something?" Freddie asks.
Naomi glares at me hard as Katie listens.
"No, nothing," she says, "now come on, Effy's still waiting, and Ems and Naomi have got to be done in the bathroom by now. Fuck, a quicky doesn't take that long. 'I'm just going to go check on Naomi,'" she mocks, "yeah right."
Katie's laughter is the last thing we hear before the door clicks shut behind them. Naomi slowly removes the hand covering my mouth, but leaves the one on my neck. All I can hear is my own heart pulsing in my ears, and all I can feel is the warmth from that hand and the pressure on my chest.
"Emily…" She whispers.
I don't know what to do, I don't want to know what she's about to say.
"What did I step on?" I say, opening the door. Her hand falls from my neck. The light from the bedroom exposes the closet floor. I kneel down and throw some beaten sneakers and old heels out of the way before coming across what penetrated my foot; a necklace, gold, simple, with a small 'M' hanging from the center. Bingo.
"Naomi."
Silence. I know she's behind me.
"Naoms," I say, standing to face her.
"Mm?" She brings her attention back from where I want so badly for it not to be. I hold up the necklace in front of her and as the small, golden M hangs in the air between us, so does everything else.
"Found one."
Her eyes don't leave mine as she takes the necklace out of my hands. Our fingers brush and I swear, in this second, I can feel both our hearts pounding.
"That was a long check in."
Naomi and I enter the living room to Katie and Freddie passed out on the couch, Freddie's head resting on Katie's shoulder, and Effy sitting impatiently on the couch across from them.
"Sorry, Eff," Naomi says guiltily. Effy sighs.
"Don't worry about it, twat," she says, walking towards us and shoving Naomi's shoulder with a playful smile. "Let's just get the fuck out of here, okay?"
"Whatever you say, prick," Naomi teases, shoving her back. I can't help but smile at them; I'm glad Naomi's got Effy. I can't imagine what Naomi's life would be like if she lived alone. They deserve each other.
The three of us head out the door after checking that my sister and Freddie were still alive.
"I'll see you tomorrow, then, Naomi."
She doesn't answer right away. I observe the ring hanging from her neck as she looks at me with blue eyes full of pity and a definite assurance that I will be answering her questions tomorrow.
"Yeah, see you."
I close the door to my flat behind me. Cook's sitting in the living room looking at some papers with a fag hanging from the side of his mouth.
"What's that?" I ask as I sit on the couch next to him.
"Newspapers," he mumbles, holding the fag between his lips, "I'm looking for a job."
I'm stunned into silence. Cook looking for a job? Like an actual, legally paying job?
"What? Like, a job job?"
"You bet, babe. I'm trying to get out of the drug business. It's dangerous and shit, you know? It's not right of me to keep getting you involved now, either, is it?"
"That's perfect news, Cook. Thank you. I'm so proud of you," I tell him. I wrap my arms around his left one, and rest my head on his bicep. He flips his papers a few more times before stacking them.
"What's up, Emilio?"
I need to go about this carefully. I could tell him the truth, I really could. I trust Cook with my life. I could voice the concern that's been clouding my mind for days. I could confess to him that, for the first time in three years, I might be falling for someone; but that would make it real, wouldn't it?
"What do you do when you're scared, Cook?"
"I don't usually get scared, do I, Red?"
"Oh just answer the question, wanker." I smack his arm lightly. He chuckles and turns his body so we're facing each other.
"When I'm scared," he rolls his eyes, "I do something about it. I either fix it or I face it. If I can fix it, great, but if I can't, I face my fears. Who wants to be scared their whole life? It's best to just do something about it, isn't it?"
As Cook speaks, it reminds me of that day that must have been weeks ago when I was sitting in Courtney's just after Jenna booted me out of her house and that man with the piercing eyes approached me.
"Learning to recognize when you're fucking something up is easy, the difficult part is being brave enough to do something about it."
I sigh. "How do you know if you're making the right decisions, Cook? How can doing what's supposed to be a smart thing feel so stupid? "
I don't know what I said, but it earned me a Cook smile. Not a classic Cook grin with broad teeth and dimples, but my Cook smile, the timid, slightly crooked, warm one. Instead of answering me, he lifts a hand and, still smiling softly, gently pokes the left side of my chest, just above my heart.
"Hearts are stupid, Em."