Emily tried not to be angry at Tony. It was just…it wasn't anyone's business was all. That night with Effy was ancient history - they didn't even mention it between themselves, so why the hell did her boyfriend suddenly think it was appropriate dinner conversation? He was just being Tony…open and playful and honest. But it had killed the rest of the dinner party abruptly for reasons Emily wasn't quite sure she understood. Naomi had turned instantly cold…which was because…because of how she thought Emily had tried to hide the story from her, was that it? Though it wasn't like they'd quizzed each other on their sexual histories or anything; they weren't those kind of friends. She had hidden it though, she remembered awkwardly, she'd avoided it quite obviously only the last time they'd spoken together, after seeing Katie in the park. That was it, right? The reason for the crushing silence? Emily tried over and over to think it through. Alicia's behaviour hadn't changed very much afterward, but then Emily had found it obvious from the beginning that the woman didn't like her…all evening she'd proven her skill at passive aggression to be at a positively Olympic class level. So what the hell had happened that night?
Three days had gone by and she hadn't heard a thing from Naomi. She didn't seem to be able to bring herself to contact her either, because a new and slightly scary explanation for Naomi's discomfort over Tony's revelation had sprung to mind. Did she think I…liked her? Like, liked her liked her?
It was a fear she'd had around female acquaintances before. It was one of the reasons she sometimes had difficulty in making new friends, if she was honest. I could smile and talk to that girl in the tea room, but what if she takes it the wrong way and freaks out? It was a stupid paranoia, nothing but a hangover from all those taunts and jibes she'd weathered through college. But Naomi had been different; right from the beginning Emily had felt like her real self around her. And since Naomi was actually gay, the fear had somehow been neutralised. Add in the fact she also had a girlfriend and the old worry had never even crossed her mind. Still, by the time the third day rolled around with no word at all from Naomi, her fear was now in full flight. She cringed to imagine it…Naomi was so beautiful and amazing and so- well, she must be used to having people falling over her left, right and centre. And here she was thinking Emily was a nice, safe, reliable friend to have, until all of a sudden she starts looking like a raving closet case with a schoolgirl crush. It was humiliating. Because she wasn't. The thing with Effy…it was just the drugs. And it totally hadn't remotely been worth all all the crap that had followed.
Emily crushed her face into the pillow. She'd been tossing and turning for almost two hours now. The clock told her it was nearly midnight. She wished Tony was here and not in fucking London. What she wouldn't give to have his safe arms around her now, so all these thoughts would just leave her alone. She closed her eyes, willing sleep to take her away. The sound of her phone ringing jarred her fully awake. She picked it up in surprise and stared at the name on the caller I.D. Naomi Campbell.
"Hello?" she managed. A rough male voice came back at her, talking loudly over the sound of music and shouting voices.
"Emily?" he asked.
"Uh, who's this?"
"My name's James. Look, I know you've broken up with her and everything, but I think you need to come and pick her up. She's a mess, y'know. Really hurting."
"Um, sorry…what?"
"Look. Naomi's just gone to the bar again. She doesn't know I'm calling you. You've really fucked her up okay? So I think you should come down here, right the fuck now, because I can't take her home with me and she shouldn't be left alone right now."
"Where is she?"
"We're at Keith's pub. Just get here."
"Okay, let me just…"
"Oh and Emily? I think you're a right nasty bitch by the way. I've never seen her like this." The call was cut and Emily stared at her phone. What the fuck?
.
.
It was technically after kicking out time when she arrived at the pub, and a steady stream of drunk middle aged men were gathering outside, eyeing her with interest as she got out of the taxi. Didn't quite seem the place she'd imagined Naomi and her art crowd to hang out in. She pushed her way through into the door, ignoring the bugger off, we're closed gesture from the lardy looking barman. She spotted Naomi slumped on a stool and leaning on the bar, looking terrible. Next to her stood a man with sandy brown hair and a- holy shit, it's fucking Cook…
He spotted her at the same time and started laughing as she approached. "I should've guessed when I heard your name. Always said you was a lezzer, didn't I? Just Nomi's type too."
Naomi's head jerked up and she nearly tumbled backwards off her stool. "Fuck's sake," was all she managed, before Cook slapped his hand on her back, pushing her forward again and keeping her upright.
"Come on then love," he hauled the blonde to her feet. "Your ride is here," he winked at Emily, and rocked his hips lewdly in her direction. She rolled her eyes.
"What have you done to her?" she asked angrily. Naomi was barely able to stand, Cook's firm arm the only reason she wasn't sliding directly to the floor.
"What have I done?" he retorted. "It's not me that fucked her over. Come on, help me get her in a taxi."
Emily wrapped her arm around Naomi from the other side and together they struggled outside, easily jumping the queue at the rank due to their obvious burden and Cook's threatening leer. The driver looked unimpressed, but they managed to wedge the blonde upright in the seat between them. "Address?" he asked.
"Well?" Cook demanded. Emily gave the driver her address.
"She's not actually my girlfriend, you know," she said to no one in particular.
"I know, you stupid cow. Broke up with her three days ago she said, just before she stopped making any sense at all. Doesn't mean you're off the hook though."
"I didn't- …oh fuck…" Emily trailed off as realisation dawned. "Her girlfriend broke up with her? Alicia, you mean?" An agonised groan came from Naomi which Emily interpreted as an indication of assent.
'Didn't hear anything about any Alicia. Your name came up a few times though. Don't know what you've done there Fitch but I'm not impressed with ya."
"So you helped her drink herself into a fucking coma?" she glared. "How the fuck do you even know her?"
"Met her at one of my mum's shitty art shows years ago. We go way back, me and Nomi. Don't we love? Called me out of the blue tonight though. Haven't seen her in years," he nudged her. "You alright in there?"
"Fuck off Cook…don't wanna see her," Naomi slurred.
"Bit late now sweetheart. Up you get." He shoved a fistful of change at the driver then between them they dragged Naomi through the doors and eventually got her up into the apartment. Cook picked her up bodily and carried her over the threshold. "Bit romantic for us, eh Naomi?" he grinned down at the blonde slumped in his arms. "Where's the bedroom?" He walked through and deposited her on the bed. He looked over at Emily and dusted his hands pointedly. "You start looking after her from now on, alright? She's fucking special she is. Top shelf quality. So stop fucking her up, or me and you…we're going to have words." He pointed his finger at her sternly and strode out of the room, closing the front door behind him with a sharp bang.
.
.
Emily started to feel exhausted, as she looked down at the spot where well under an hour ago she'd been tucked up and trying to sleep. Now her place in the bed was being taken up by the long, lithe and entirely comatose body of the same blonde woman who'd been disturbing her thoughts in the first place. Emily rubbed her eyes in disbelief at the weirdness of her life for a minute, then remembering all those nights with Sid, she bent down and removed Naomi's shoes for her. Since it wasn't Sid, she removed her socks as well. She eyed Naomi cautiously. Right then. She unbuckled the belt around her slim hips, pulling it out through the belt loops and being careful not to touch the soft skin of her slightly exposed abdomen. Fucking jeggings… she frowned, not quite sure what the best protocol for this was. Finally telling herself not to be so pathetic, she quickly reached out and undid Naomi's trousers, feeling a strange sense of deja vu as she did so. She had a moment of panic when the tugging of the the tight jeans under Naomi's hips started to pull the blonde's bright blue knickers down as well causing Emily's eyes to widen as she quickly jerked them back again before they reached any kind of dangerous territory. Pulling the trousers off over Naomi's feet, she averted her eyes and quickly wriggled the duvet down from beneath her and covered her all the way up to her neck, before sitting on the side of the bed, breathing heavily - with the exertion. Right, well. I'm sleeping on the couch, she decided firmly. She grabbed one of Tony's tshirts and quickly changed into it, throwing her clothes over the chair, nicking his pillow and heading out to make up her own bed for the night.
She paused in the kitchen and downed a glass of cold water, then filled a large glass for Naomi. Scrunching her nose at the forethought, she also grabbed a large empty bowl for her, and switching off all the glaring lights in the apartment she entered the bedroom one last time. Naomi appeared to be alive, since she'd turned herself onto her side, hugging Emily's pillow under her head, the frown crumpling her sleeping face visible in the soft glow of the lamp. Emily placed the glass on the bedside table, and the bowl on the floor beside her.
"I'm so sorry Naoms," she murmured sadly, carefully reaching out and replacing a strand of blonde hair back from where it had fallen over her face. She was just straightening up to leave when Naomi's hand let go of the pillow and grabbed hers tightly. Emily paused and looked down. The girl's eyes remained closed. Her frown increased, but her grip didn't loosen. Slowly Emily sat back on the bed beside her. "Hey," she said quietly, feeling unsure. Naomi only choked a little in response. "Hey…" she repeated, softly, reaching out with her other hand to stroke her hair again. Without letting go of her fingers, the blonde shuffled over until her head was resting in Emily's lap and she began to cry in earnest.
"Don't go," she snuffled, sounding broken.
Trying not to dislodge her, Emily moved her body around until she could rest comfortably back against the headboard. Feeling increasingly awkward about Naomi's cheek resting against her bare thigh, she slipped under the covers, pulling them up around her waist before letting the blonde's head nestle back into her lap, feeling the bed shake slightly as the sobbing overtook Naomi's body. Emily let her cry, simply running her fingers through her soft hair, over and over again.
.
.
Emily woke up from her doze more than an hour later to find the lamp still on and her back twinging uncomfortably at her semi-upright position. She gently pushed Naomi away from her, giving her room to slip down the bed to ease her spine. She rested there a second, her aching neck luxuriating in the softness of a pillow beneath her head. She felt Naomi shift beside her, and stiffened as the blonde wrapped her arm tightly around her waist and pressed her face warmly into the crook of her neck.
"Naomi," she said firmly, pushing her shoulder, trying to wake her up. Naomi only responded by tilting her head slightly up until Emily felt her lips brush against her neck. Before she could react, the blonde had planted several hot, open mouthed kisses along her throat, her tongue stroking heatedly against her skin. A small sound of shock escaped Emily's lips at the fiery sensation that tore through her body, her cheeks flaming as her insides contracted painfully all in one powerful instant, as if something inside her was trying to crawl away from her skin. She felt, rather than heard Naomi groan in response.
"Al…god I'm sorry…I love you…please Alicia-"
Emily wrenched herself from the blonde's grip and spent the rest of the night staring wide-eyed at the ceiling above the living room sofa.
.
.
Bright blue slowly revealing pale skin, and my lips are- Emily opened her eyes again. Her lips are being bitten, that's what they are. Unclamping her teeth and wincing at the pain, she blinked to dismiss her dream, then checked the time on her phone. 06:37. Time to get up.
Nothing but silence emanated from the bedroom, so Naomi was probably still be passed out. She was dreading the next part, where she'd have to sneak in and grab her work clothes out of the wardrobe after all the accumulated weirdness of the night before, but she figured the earlier she did it, the less chance there was that Naomi would already have woken up. So, steeling herself, she crept over and quietly opened the door. The room was empty. On top of the neatly made bed, there was a note, written in tiny letters on the back of a wrinkled receipt Naomi must have found in one of her own pockets. Emily pulled open the curtains to let in the grey early morning light and began to read.
Ems,
I think I remember you and Cook and a taxi, so I figure you must have come to my rescue. I don't know how or why, but I know I needed it. So thank you. Guess that means you know about Alicia too. Sorry if I drunkenly rambled at you. I'm a wanker, ignore anything I said. I've decided to go away for a bit. Spain, Cyprus, perhaps. By myself. Spend some time by myself, you know, do some thinking by myself. I'm not sure when I'll be back. You're a good friend Emily.
Emily sat down heavily on the bed. "I'll miss you," she said softly, and listened as the silence rang out in response.
