Good evening/ morning/ afternoon/ night and a warm welcome :) How are you?
Thanks once again for the lovely comments. My massive amount of work has subsided (briefly) so I thought I'd post an update for you.
A mini-essay to start you off: (NB not really an essay, I fucking hate essays)
There seems to be a bit of a mixed response to the fact Naomi kept a book around Mexico reserved for Emily. Well, in all honesty, I think it's a realistic thing for her to do. Let's not forget, Naomi is (or was) completely infatuated with Emily. Emily's persistence in chasing Naomi in season 3, then her stoic rejection of her in season 4 after the Sophia thing will quite effectively turn someone like Naomi a little bit mental. Naomi is weak, scared, and above all, she is dishonest. She's been lying for years (according to her grand speech at the end of series 4, she's been lying since she was 12). Denying yourself for that long turns you into a strange person. And it makes you very good at hiding away how you actually feel, until you're not even sure you actually feel it anymore. So, to Naomi, that book was more than a reminder of Emily. It's a reminder of herself. Who she really is, or who Emily made her feel strong enough to be, if only for a little while.
Okay ... so that's my very brief analysis of what's going on, (not brief enough, I hear you say). Onwards!
(ps: a note on my other story. Like I say, it is written, but on closer inspection I'm not entirely happy with it, so please forgive me while I take a bit of time to correct the crappy bits so it's good enough for me to present it to you? Don't make me make you read crap! Ta muchly)
Have a nice day
Emily became aware of sounds before she opened her eyes. The crescendo and fade of passing cars, the distant shouts and clinking of glass bottles from the night's wanderers, the metallic, hollow drone of the central heating, and the velveteen exhalation of breath from the sleeping figure next to her. She allowed her eyes to open, blinking as they adjusted to the darkness that cloaked the room.
Slowly, dark smudges clarified into definite lines and shapes, and Emily lazily surveyed the room in which she had awoken. Naomi's room. Much like her bedroom in her mum's house, this room was utter disorder. Furniture jerked out at conflicting angles, strewn with clutter from Naomi's life. Pages of words, heaps of clothes, discarded jewellery, books and films all stacked in disorganised and unstable piles. Everything seemed displaced. Emily let her head fall to the right, allowing her gaze to rest on Naomi's quiescent form, her face deceptively peaceful and content amongst all of the chaos she had created.
Emily's eyes fluttered closed briefly as she thought of the way Naomi had kissed her and held her last night, as if her very existence depended on it. She had never felt so needed and wanted in her life. She gently ran the side of her forefinger along Naomi's jaw line. Emily knew she had forgiven Naomi, but she was all too aware that Naomi was just as live and dangerous as she had always been. Emily let herself smile as she realised that she wanted to be there, as Naomi carried on, volatile and unpredictable. She found it fascinating. She always had. She was ready to get to know Naomi again.
She reached for the hand Naomi had curled up under her chin like a paw, kneading it loose and entwining their fingers together. She watched Naomi's eyes flutter open, hazily focusing on the sight in front of her. She blinked slowly several times, registering the information around her. She looked down at her hand in Emily's own, and then back up, her eyes uncertain, as if this all presented some kind of difficult arithmetic problem.
Unable to wait for Naomi to work it all out, Emily lifted herself up and kissed Naomi gently. She wanted to tell her that she wanted to be near her again, that fear and resentment had ruled her for long enough. Naomi's free hand slid from under the covers and under the thin layer of material to the smooth warm skin of Emily's back, tracing the undulation of her spine and the shifting shapes of her shoulder blades as she moved above her.
Emily broke from Naomi's kiss and looked down. She felt Naomi's hand flex against her back as Naomi opened her eyes. They shone ever so slightly in the dark room.
Naomi gazed up at Emily, casting her mind briefly back to the evening, how they had stumbled drunkenly into bed after finally managing to stop their ceaseless kissing upon her bedroom floor. Naomi sat up and gently pushed Emily down, twisting over to her side and pressing down on Emily from above. Suddenly, Emily's desire to admit her revelation to Naomi, took on a very different form.
Emily met Naomi's kiss with parted lips, running her hands along the ripple of her ribcage and up to the back of her head. She pulled her closer, rising up to her touch as Naomi ran nimble fingers along the length of her thighs. Her hands felt as smooth and warm as sun-bathed stone, her lips soft and wet like the flesh of a stone-fruit.
Naomi's touch became more forceful, and her mouth left Emily's to press rough kisses along Emily's pale and exposed neck. Each one of them caused Emily to twist and press against her as she clutched Naomi closer to her, her breath hot and ragged in her ear.
As Naomi pushed the base of Emily's t-shirt up and across her taught abdomen, she felt a firm grip encase her hand. She stopped, and pulled back to look at Emily.
Emily's eyes were closed as she made a conscious effort to calm her breathing. As radical as her revelation had been, she wasn't yet ready to surrender herself entirely to Naomi. She licked her lips slowly and opened her eyes. She smiled sheepishly at Naomi, whose chest still rose and fell with rapid breath. Emily reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind Naomi's ear.
Naomi chewed her bottom lip before pressing a soft kiss to Emily's forehead, and then let her slip from under her to the side, and leave the bed.
Emily silently gathered her things. She heard Naomi turn and sit up. Their eyes locked, and not a word passed between them. Emily tugged on her shoes and picked up her bag. Naomi sat completely still like she was in the presence of a timid animal, as if a sudden movement would cause Emily to bolt.
Emily cast one look back at the motionless girl in bed, before opening the door and slipping silently from the room. When Naomi heard the front door bang shut she let herself exhale the breath she was holding. The look in Emily's eyes before she left was unmistakable. She was forgiven. The fact that Emily had fled was irrelevant. In fact, Naomi had expected her to do so far sooner. She let herself fall back onto her pillow, and drifted effortlessly back into sleep. Emily's resolve had crumbled, she could no longer escape. This was Emily's Mexico. Emily's turn to realise that no matter how far she ran, Naomi couldn't be outrun.
Emily swayed unsteadily as another book was balanced atop the crooked tower of books Kyle had lumbered her with re-shelve. It made her think fondly of the towers of literature in Naomi's room, how they all seemed to tremble with the proximity of collapsing. She hadn't heard from Naomi all morning. Not even a simple text to enquire whether she had got home safely. She tried not to panic about the fact that Naomi could have simply mistaken her sudden departure as rejection. Surely she understood that everything was gaining too much speed. If Emily needed time, surely Naomi would be willing to grant it.
'Hello Ems,' came the cheerful morning greeting, the volume and suddenness of which causing Emily to drop the entire stack of books.
Her eyes met Naomi's, and one corner of her mouth flicked up in a brief, shy smile. 'How do you keep getting in?' she asked.
'Ninja skills?' Naomi ventured, 'Or the fact that your card swipey thing is buggered.'
'Well you're certainly no ninja,' Emily mused.
'Harsh.'
'Can I help you with something?'
'Can you help me with my hip flexibility exercises?'
'Naomi!' Emily chastised, feeling her cheeks burn instantly.
'Fine,' Naomi said nonchalantly, 'but let it be on your head if I get arthritis in later life.'
Naomi paused for Emily's comeback. But there wasn't one. Naomi rolled her eyes and stepped closer to the desk. 'Come out with me?' she asked, leaning forward on her elbows over the counter.
'I'm going to have to get them to tighten security here,' Emily cast a look over to the security guard at the front double doors who was seemingly immersed in a crossword book.
'Come out with me?' Naomi asked again.
'Why?'
'Because you want to.'
'Don't tell me what I want Naomi.'
'Well don't make it so obvious then,' Naomi replied with a smirk.
Emily rolled her eyes. 'If I say yes,' she considered, 'will you stop coming to the library.'
Naomi stood for a while in contemplation. 'Okay. Though I don't get why it bothers you so much.'
'It doesn't.'
'You're a terrible liar dear.'
'I just like to work in peace and quiet.'
'Ems, it's a fucking library. The only place quieter than this is a fucking morgue.'
Emily looked at her, hands on hips, 'Yeah, and then you turn up and suddenly it all gets very loud.'
Naomi, looked around, noticing several pairs of angry eyes focused on her and the slightly too audible debate she was having. 'Jesus Christ Em, keep your voice down. This is a fucking library you know.'
Emily merely let out an exasperated sigh by way of a response.
Naomi smirked, 'Come out with me, and I'll never disturb the sanctuary of your library ever again.' She held up her hands, 'Promise.'
'I don't know what a promise from Naomi Campbell is worth,' came the unswerving reply.
'Well, take a chance then Fitch,' Naomi told her as she moved away from the counter.
Emily watched Naomi's retreating form. 'For fuck's sake,' she muttered to herself.
She met the cold stare of a disgruntled student hunched over a writing pad on a nearby desk. He seemed rather obviously displeased at her unsuitable library conduct.
Emily glared at him, 'Oh get a fucking job,' she told him, crouching down to pick up her scattered books.
Naomi left the library through the broken barrier and the double doors and stepped out into the sunshine. She inhaled the warm air deeply, allowing herself a small self-satisfied smile. It all seemed so fucking simple. Was it always this simple?