Naomi heard the front door close as Emily left for work. She was aware of the fact that she had to get up and go home…it really wasn't something she could reasonably avoid. But what's so great about reason anyway? With that philosophy in mind, she shifted away from what she assumed was probably Tony's side of the bed, (eugh, gross…remember to shower later, jesus) and snuggled down into the sheets Emily had recently vacated. She buried her face in the pillow, inhaling the scent of what must be Emily's shampoo. And Emily's perfume. And Emily's skin. That and the smell of green, a small smile cracked over her face.

Okay, well, this has been great and all…how about you mosey along now and GET UP! Her body refused to obey her. Come on, seriously now, she told herself sharply, what are your options here? Go home at once and face the music like a man, or just lie here in Emily's pillows forever? Unfortunately her plan to argue herself into action backfired immediately. She'd weighed up both options carefully, listed the pros and cons and the second plan had won. It would be okay, she decided. She'd simply hunker down here until Emily took pity on her and brought her meals. Tony would probably be a bit irritated at the third person in their bed, but that was okay - he could just fuck off. Then Emily would join her there and - ah, fuck, a sudden explosion of masculine sneezes in the other room brought her reverie crashing down around her ears.

The walls of the apartment were extremely thin. After Emily had left her alone with her coffee and her thoughts, she'd heard the muffled sounds of cosy breakfast conversation, Emily's adorable soft laughter, and horribly enough, even the sound of kisses smacking in the next room. That's right Naomi…happy heterosexual man/woman couple kisses. His lips and Emily's. Suck it up and move on. She swung her legs out of bed and discovered she'd at some stage lost her skin tight trousers and slept in just her pants. Thankfully her jeggings were fairly obvious, thrown untidily over the arm of the chair next to the bed. Right then. No shoes though. They must be in the living room. She peered in the mirror, ran her hands through her hair, rubbed at her cheeks, rolled her eyes and she was ready to face the world.

"Morning!" the cheerful voice made her jump and then scowl. Tony was sitting on the couch, and putting on his shiny black annoying wanker shoes. He grinned at her inanely. "How's your head then?"

"Great," she gritted her teeth. "How's yours?" Empty?

"Fine thanks. Sleep okay?"

"Yeah, like a passed out alcoholic baby. Did you take my trousers off while I was unconscious?" she glowered at him.

"Fuck no! I made Emily do that. I thought you'd be more comfortable. Don't you remember?"

"Well no…I was unconscious. As previously mentioned." Comfortable is not exactly the word I'd choose for my feelings about that, you big tit.

In the end they'd wound up leaving together. She could hardly find an excuse to stay mooching around their apartment all day when he was stood around around chatting at her. Didn't this guy have a job to get to? He seemed happy to wait while she used their bathroom, drank a glass of water and found her shoes, then escorted her pleasantly all the way out through the halls of the apartment complex. He swung around a briefcase, which probably contained nothing but a Bob the Builder lunch box and his favourite comic books. An awful thought struck her. Did Emily make him sandwiches? Fuck she hated him. As they reached the pavement, she fought the urge to take his arm and walk down the street with him, experiencing vicariously the simple pleasure of living life as a normal, boring, privileged, white, heterosexual, posh, male snotball like the lovely Mr. Stonem. Have whatever she wanted, and have it easy. Have Emily. She'd have an irritating bounce in her step then too. Never in her life had she wanted to be someone else so badly as that hungover morning in the sunshine, on her way home to argue with Alicia.

"Goodbye Tony," she said abruptly. Drop dead Tony. "Enjoy your sandwiches." He seemed completely unfazed by her cutting tone and smiled and waved as she turned on her heel and left.

"Nice meeting you," he called after her. What a completely monstrous cunt.

.

.

Christ, Alicia must have vented her rage on some poor cleaning crew instead. It was 9:15 in the morning and looking around you'd have no idea there'd been a huge party in their apartment merely the night before. Everything was back to gleaming white, except for the colours thrown around by her artworks, still waiting for collection from their places around the walls. She stopped for a moment, in front of the final painting she'd completed for the series. Originally she hadn't been too sure if she'd really accomplished what she'd intended with this one, but standing in front of it now she felt tears spring into her eyes at her sudden craving for the woman who'd inspired it. She'd buy her mother a first class ticket to London for opening night, she decided, and put her up in the best hotel room money could buy. Like that'll fix my guilt for never visiting. Maybe I'll go visit her right now. Instead she crossed the vast white room and tentatively opened the door to their bedroom.

Alicia was sat in the window seat, dressed for work, but apparently motionless. She stayed gazing out the window and didn't even turn her head as her girlfriend entered the room. "Al," she said. "Al, I'm sorry. It was a beautiful idea. I just…I didn't expect it, and I felt a bit trapped was all." She crossed over and sat in the opposite end of the window seat, gently nudging Alicia's leg with her foot, trying to force her to look at her. When she finally did, Naomi was stricken to see the tears standing out in the stormy green eyes. She almost never saw her girlfriend cry.

"I make you feel trapped." It was a statement, not a question.

"No…babe, I just…" Naomi trailed off, unable to find a way finish the sentence.

"That girl Naomi…after she left…you chased her out the door like a bat out of hell. I saw your face… what the fuck is going on?"

"Jesus, nothing is going on Alicia!" she exploded instantly. "You know what? I can have my own fucking friends alright? I'm so sick of you trying to control me, like I can't make my own goddamn decisions or choose when I want to smoke a pissing little joint or have a say about who I do and don't want to spend my time with! You just pick and pick and pick at me…what the fuck do you want me to do? Who do you want me to be?" Naomi found herself shaking with anger…totally pure, self-righteous anger at Alicia and the injustice of the way she was being treated. Anger so big it could block out her total guilt for the fact that her girlfriend wasn't just being paranoid and Naomi was a lying sack of shit. Alicia's tears overflowed.

"I'm sorry…babe. I don't want you to be anyone but you. I just get so scared sometimes…that I'm going to lose you," her voice was pleading and Naomi's heart began to crack. She leaned in and pulled her girlfriend in tightly to her body. Alicia buried her face in her neck and all of a sudden she stiffened, pulling back from her, her eyes widening with disbelief. "You… …fuck! You smell like her! Naomi, you fucking smell like someone else's perfume, how dare you fucking lie-"

Naomi grabbed her by both her arms and shook her. "Al, for fuck's sake. You kicked me out of the apartment, I was completely fucking wasted and we passed out next to each other. In her bed. Nothing happened. I can't believe you don't trust me!"

Alicia stayed as still and rigid as a statue under her grip, until Naomi realised her fingers were digging sharply into her girlfriend's flesh, and she let go, feeling like a monster. The green eyes regarded her for a long time. "Promise me, Naomi," she said flatly. "Promise me there's nothing going on with her."

Naomi's stomach twisted inside her. All of her emotions were screaming at her at once. Suddenly she felt very clear on one thing: Alicia didn't own every single part of her. Her soul was her own. If she had some tiny, tingling feeling for someone else, that would never amount to anything, that had not a single chance of ever moving from a thought to an action, it wasn't worth losing her fucking relationship over. She straightened up and looked Alicia in the eye.

"Alicia, I promise you there's nothing going on. For one thing, Emily is straight. Second of all, she has a boyfriend. Third, we're just friends. And forth, it's you that I love."

Alicia stood up. She looked down at her girlfriend, her expression unreadable. "I believe you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "But my god Naomi, I wish that you'd reversed the order of your fucking reasons for why we're still together just now." She walked out of the room, leaving Naomi to sit alone, punching her fist repeatedly into the seat cushions.

.

.

Thankfully things got better. It took a bit of time, but over the weeks that followed, Naomi did everything she could to make things up to her, to make it clear to Alicia that she was still very much right there with her. They attended the exhibition opening at the Tate Modern and Naomi was on her best behaviour for the whole night. She reminded herself, as well as Alicia, that she knew exactly who her girlfriend was, and who was just her friend. Her straight, platonic, friend. Because she refused to give up Emily now…so much was at stake here. She loved Alicia, but if their relationship was going to work then her girlfriend had to know that Naomi was her own fucking person…not a pushover, not some malleable younger lover who'd do whatever she was told. Naomi Campbell was never going to be owned. The whole fight had served a dual purpose, she thought to herself. Alicia had learned to back off on her expectations a little and Naomi had learned what her priorities were. She wasn't going to fuck things up and lose Alicia…she couldn't. And Emily…beautiful or not, was utterly straight, utterly in love with someone else and her crush would eventually die a natural death. They'd be friends.

So friends they became. No subtext, no secrets. They had coffee together, and when Emily slipped the teaspoon sensuously into her mouth, Naomi averted her eyes and stared out the window at the traffic instead. They went to the cinema, and ate their popcorn from separate boxes. Naomi met her for lunch during Emily's long boring work day and as the redhead left to return to her office, Naomi kept her eyes resolutely ahead and did not, for one single second, turn around to watch the sway of her hips or the movement of her hair as she walked. Then she went home and painted, for hours and hours and hours. She didn't invite Emily back to her studio again. The didn't get drunk together, and since the fight Naomi had been doing her best to lay off the weed. Things were just…nice thisway. Arseholeface the boyfriend was away for a few nights a week and Emily seemed keen to see her friends. Friends. It was great. They were friendly, friendly friends.

There was only one thing. Alicia seemed to have finally accepted Emily's new place in Naomi's life, but her curiosity remained fairly high about the girl. And now she was becoming increasingly insistent that they invite Emily and Tony over to have dinner with them, preferably that weekend. For the life of her, though Naomi couldn't say why, she desperately did not want for that to happen.