5. A Collapsible Plan

Naomi

Two cold showers and several coffees later and the world was still a little fuzzy round the edges. I was standing outside the door of the Golden Lion doing deep breathing. She asked me out. She asked me out. She asked me fucking out. Well ok, she didn't so much ask me out as invite the pair of us to come along and meet all her friends, but still, she wanted to know me, despite how much of a fool I'd made of myself at the harbour. And she was sweet, and she was lovely, and she was Emily. My sweet, lovely Emily. Ok so not exactly mine exactly. But she was here, and she was real, and oh my fucking God, how was I going to get through the night when I couldn't even get through the door?

"Calm down, Naomi," said Thomas soothingly. "You're going to hyperventilate."

He pulled me into a friendly hug. Thank fuck for Thomas. I was so lucky I had him. He had totally saved the situation down on the quay. And he was here for me now, being the calm voice of reason, whilst I freaked out like a fifteen year old on a first date.

"It's ok, Naomi," he said. "I've got your back. But anyway, she seems like a really nice person."

Yes, a really nice person. Just being friendly, like friendly people do.

I needed to stay calm. I needed a plan.

Step one. Be casual, take an interest in her friends and all the rest of the people round here. Don't be a stalky nerd.

Step two. Make sure she knows that Thomas isn't your boyfriend.

Step three. Engage her in stimulating conversation. Use your wit and your brains to fascinate and intrigue her.

Step four. Get her alone. Ask her outside for a smoke or something.

Step five. Pretend she's got something in her hair. Step closer. Close the distance between you. Pull her into a gorgeous kiss. Put your tongue down her throat. Get your hands on her tits. Drive her wild with passion. Take her home. Get her naked. Make her scream your name as you fuck her until dawn….

No shit no, Naomi. Jesus, what is wrong with your fucking brain?

"Are you ok, Naomi?" asked Thomas, as I screamed aloud in frustration.

"I think I'm turning into a pervert," I told him.

"Or maybe you're just in love," he smiled.

"How can I be in love? I've only met her twice," I moaned.

"Well, if you don't actually go inside, you'll never get to find out," he said. "Take the plunge, remember?"

"Ok," I said, straightening my clothes and fussing with my hair. "Take the plunge."

"That's my girl," grinned Thomas.

It was the same pub we'd had dinner in the night before, but tonight it was a lot more crowded. Guess this band were good then. Or maybe they were shit but there really was fuck all else to do round here. We'd only been here a couple of days, but I was already able to pick out a few familiar faces. There was really only one face my ever expectant eyes were waiting to see, and I immediately started scanning the bar to find her. I thought I saw her across the room, and started making my way over, but shit, she certainly looked way more dressed up than I'd expected for a band night down the local. Oh fuck, a rush of adrenalin hit as the thought sped into my brain, maybe she dressed up for me… Or Thomas. Shit, maybe she dressed up for Thomas. I got a little closer, but her hair, would she really have had time to die her hair purple, since we'd seen her on the quay? I mean, it was nice and everything, but that red had been so awesome…

"Emily?" I said hesitantly, trying to make my way past the two big blokes standing between us.

"I'm not Emily, you dick," said the woman, turning to look me up and down in annoyance. "Who the fuck are you?"

I stood there with my mouth open. Why had I managed to turn into such a socially inept clown the moment I'd set foot on this peninsula? She looked like Emily, but she wasn't Emily, and she certainly wasn't sweet, and lovely, and friendly.

"I'm Thomas, so pleased to meet you," came the voice of my guardian angel from behind my shoulder, and the demeanour of the she-devil that had been cloned from Emily changed from hostile to friendly in an instant.

"I'm Katie," she smiled, in a smile that I was sure she reserved for attractive boys. "So very pleased to meet you too."

She held out her hand, and giggled in a feminine manner when he took it and kissed the back of it.

"Enchante, Mademoiselle," he said, sending Katie into further spasms of delight.

Jesus Thommo, you cheesy fuck, do you want a trowel to lay on that half baked faux smoothness, or what?

"I see you've met my sister then," the beautiful husky voice of the sea goddess said softly in my ear, and I was suddenly begging for even an ounce of Thommo's half baked smoothness.

"You might want to keep an eye on your boyfriend though," she grinned.

"He's not my boyfriend," I blurted out.

Oh well, that was step two dealt with. Shame I'd somehow managed to miss out on step one.

"He might want to pretend he is, if Katie gets her claws out," she laughed.

"Thomas and Naomi are marine conservationists," she said, raising her voice so that Katie could hear. "They're going to be around for a couple of months, conducting a study of pollution levels in the current channels."

"Ooh, sounds complicated," said Katie, keeping her attention fixed firmly on Thomas. "You must be ever so clever…"

Emily shook her head and smiled at me again.

"I think I'm just going to let her run with this one for a bit," she smirked. "We can come back and rescue him later. Can I get you a drink?"

"Yeah, that would be good," I mumbled.

Yeah, that would be good? Fuck me, I am a scientist. I am articulate and

intelligent. I am a modern, powerful woman and I can hold my own against pretty much anyone. So why does this girl keep reducing me to the level of a buffoon? She grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the bar, and I took total leave of my senses. She was touching me. All the blood rushed from my head, and pulsated round my palm where my flesh was meeting hers. She was touching me, and I never wanted it to stop.

"Oi Gav," she yelled with surprising volume and confidence at the barman. "Get us a pint of cider mate. And something for the lady…"

Both Emily and Gav looked at me expectantly. Shit this was the part where I was supposed to say something, but my brain couldn't make the connection between thought and speech, because all it's resources were still celebrating the fact that she was touching me.

"Naomi?" she said dropping my hand and waving hers in front of me. "You still stoned?"

"Vodka," I managed to force out, now that the connection had been broken.

"Just vodka?" said Emily, raising an eyebrow.

"And lemonade," I said quickly. "Vodka and lemonade."

We grabbed our drinks from Gav, and looked for somewhere to sit or stand.

"Hey Emily," called a massive lad with a buzz cut as we passed him by. "Who's your lovely new assistant?"

"Fuck you, Jonno," bantered Emily playfully, heading for a door at the back of the pub. I willingly followed her through it.

"They're a funny old bunch," she said as she leant against the wall in the back porch outside the pub. "But they're alright once you get to know them."

I looked around to find we were alone. Shit, step four already. Emily kept messing with my plan, and I hadn't even had the chance to impress her with my stimulating conversation. Emergency protocol one. Have a cigarette. I pulled out my pack and offered her one, but she declined.

"I only tend to smoke when I'm wasted," she grinned. "So where are you staying? Are you in a BnB or something?"

Oh God thank you, small talk. Something I could possibly cope with.

"No, we've hired a cottage quite close to the beach actually," I said, forming my first entire sentence since I had met her.

"Oh well that's better, I suppose. You'll be able to party."

"We came here to work, not to party," I said.

Oh fuck, that came across as really pompous. She's not going to want to get to know me if she thinks I'm a funsponge.

"Oh, yeah, of course, right," she said, looking a little crestfallen.

Fuck, I had to rescue this and NOW.

"Though it doesn't hurt to blow off a little steam every now and again," I said attempting a casual smile.

"Is that what you were doing in Bob's boat this afternoon?" she smirked.

I had to laugh, the cheeky little minx.

"Busted," I said holding up my hand in admission, and relaxing for the first time in her presence. "So what about you? I'm guessing you live round here."

"Yeah, I work in the family business Fitchwater Watersports. 'Swim like a Fitch!'"

"What?"

"Exactly," laughed Emily. "Our surname's Fitch, and my parents have an irrational love of pun based marketing slogans."

I didn't take the piss. My mind was too busy running the words 'Emily Fitch' over and over again in my head.

"My Dad does all the boys toys stuff like paragliding and jet skis, Mum teaches windsurfing, and my little brother James is a devil in a sea kayak. I run the surf school and Katie takes care of the sunbathing…"

"They have classes for that?" I said stupidly.

"No," laughed Emily, finally looking at me like I was a nitwit. "But if they did, Katie would be your girl. Actually, she runs our retail department, and she's pretty fucking good at it. Particularly making surfy boys part with their money."

"Do you like it?" I asked her.

"I love it," she told me, her eyes lighting up when she told me about how she was in the sea every day. She was enchanting. I could have listened to her talk all night. Her voice was so sexy she could have turned me on reading excerpts from Deuteronomy, but she was so animated and excited when she talked about what she did and about the wonders of the local seascape I began to seriously doubt my earlier assertion that I couldn't possibly be in love. Step five began to transform itself from fantasies of getting laid to the simple desire to keep hearing this woman talking for the rest of my life. I hadn't even noticed that the porch had filled up with people, until a loud call interrupted the divine music of my true love's voice.

"Emilio! Blondie!" yelled the car park boy, waving a half empty pint in our direction. "Get me my sunglasses. My eyes are suffering from an overload of hotness here, ladies."

"Hi Cook," laughed Emily, shaking her head. Surely she wasn't friends with this bozo?

"You might wanna get back inside, Blondie," he said. "I think your fella's about to be eaten alive."

"He's a big boy," I said. "He can look after himself."

There was no way I was leaving Emily with this sleazy Cook character. His eyes lit up and he waggled his eyebrows at us.

"All the more for the Cookie Monster then. How about it ladies? Fancy a threesome? I could be the meat in your sandwich."

Emily poked him in the stomach.

"Even if I was up for it, I'd have to knock you back for that old cliché," she told him. "And anyway, last time I checked, Hell hadn't actually frozen over."

"Yet again, she wounds me," said Cook, staggering back dramatically as if Emily had dealt him a fatal blow. "When are you going to give me a chance, Ems?"

"Better start saving up for the operation," she winked at him.

Operation? What? Ems? How fucking cute was that? Why did he get to call her Ems? I wanted to call her Ems.

"Guess I have to console myself elsewhere," sighed Cook. "Gotta love these women's surf courses of yours, Ems. Lotsa fresh totty for da Cookie."

"You are disgusting, Cook."

She cuffed him round the head, but there was still no malice in her voice.

"Excuse me?" said Cook, feigning offence. "Pot? Kettle? Colour naming arrangement? What about that dreadlock chick who's been giving you puppy dog eyes all night?"

"She's not my type," said Emily hurriedly.

"What do you mean?" laughed Cook. "She's totally your type. You love those alternative chicks. What was it you said? 'Girls with tattoos make me totally horny'. Remember that one with the pink hair? We could see you two coming for miles."

"Whatever Cook," said Emily, her voice showing irritation with him for the first time. "We should go inside, the band will be on soon."

Emily pushed back on in without waiting for either of us. Emily who is gay. Gay Emily. Sweet, lovely Gay Emily. I felt the grin start pulling my face apart as I thought of it. Emily is gay. I wonder where the nearest tattoo shop is…

The sound of Cook's raucous laughter punched into my daydream.

"Oh it's like that is it?" he howled. "Get in, Blondie. Just make sure ya get me pictures."

"What the fuck, Cook?" I frowned at him.

"Ya just found out Ems is a muff monkey, and now you're smiling like a beauty queen. It ain't rocket science, babe."

I didn't have an answer for him, so I abandoned him and went back inside. I looked for Emily in the crowd, but she was so fucking tiny, it wasn't easy. Suddenly any girl in the place who looked even slightly alternative had become my enemy, so when I caught her talking to a devastatingly beautiful girl, with backcombed hair, ripped clothing and dark smoky eye make up, I was just about ready to break. I watched in horror as Emily put her hands in the girl's hair, pressed their foreheads together and stared deep into her eyes. Clearly, the dreadlock chick held no interest for her because she already had this. The girl was fucking beautiful, how the fuck was I supposed to compete with that? So what if Emily was gay? She also had a ridiculously hot girlfriend. I was just about to go and throw myself off the cliff, when I saw Emily sweep her hand through her own hair, and search around the room. She didn't look turned on. She looked worried.

On instinct, I went straight to her. If Emily was hurting, then I was hurting too. Girlfriend or no girlfriend, I wanted to help her.

"What's wrong?" I said once I had reached her.

"It's Effy," she said, looking down at the brunette. "She's completely fucked."

"Isn't it a little early to be that drunk?" I asked.

Emily shot me a look.

"She's not drunk," she said.

I looked over at the girl who had lurched into Emily's arms. Her pupils were practically eclipsing her irises.

"Jesus, she's really wasted," I said.

"She doesn't normally get like this," frowned Emily. "I mean she gets high. A lot. But she normally knows how to handle herself. Effy, what have you taken?"

"New batch," murmured Effy. "Got to test the merchandise. It's good customer service."

"How many?" insisted Emily.

"Just the one," said Effy. "Until I got here and saw that."

Both Emily and I followed her gaze to where Katie and Thomas were still obviously flirting.

"Fuck's sake, Effy. Why do you do this to yourself? You know what she's like," said Emily.

"Hey, I'm just having fun," said Effy. "Just like Katie's having fun. We're all just having fun."

"You might want to get your friend out of that," said Emily, looking at me. "Katie's just using him. There's some fucked up little mind games going on round here. You wouldn't want to get involved."

"It's all his fault," said Effy menacingly, furrowing her brow and smouldering with anger.

"Hey, Thomas hasn't done anything," I said defensively.

"She doesn't mean, Thomas," said Emily.

"I need the loo," said Effy, getting to her feet remarkably efficiently considering the state she was in.

"I'll come with you," said Emily.

"I'm not a child, Em," said Effy disdainfully.

"Give me your drugs then, Eff," insisted Emily.

Effy shrugged, and discreetly handed her a small bag.

"All of them," said Emily firmly.

Effy rolled her eyes, and stuck her hands out to the sides, daring Emily to frisk her. To my surprise Emily did just that. I found myself considering acquiring a serious drug habit just so I could undergo such treatment at the hands of Emily Fitch. Especially when she reached inside Effy's bra and pulled out another wrap. Effy smirked, and my heart sank as their physical familiarity led me once again to the conclusion that they were lovers. Effy was still out of it, but she seemed to be gaining a measure of control, as she blew Emily a kiss and disappeared in the direction of the ladies. Emily sat down heavily, and let out a long sigh. I sat down beside her, and put my arm around her shoulder.

"Is she going to be ok?" I asked gently.

"Yeah," said Emily wearily. "She's always ok. She does a lot of drugs, but she knows what she's doing with them. She's fucking hard as nails, apart from one devastating weakness."

"What's that?"

"Katie."

"Katie?"

"Yep, Katie. She's completely in love with her. Has been for years."

"Katie?" I repeated, seeking clarification for something I was finding hard to believe.

"Katie does have her good side," shrugged Emily. "But she's not interested. She's totally into Freddie."

"So why is she hitting on Thomas?"

"To try and make him jealous, I guess. Not that it's going to work. Freddie is infatuated with Effy, but Effy hates him because she thinks he's keeping her from Katie."

"That's fucked up," I said trying not to laugh, but Emily caught me out and started giggling herself.

"Personally, I think they should all just get it on in a big bisexual threesome, and have done. Then the rest of us could stop getting dragged into their drama."

Oh God, was that the kind of stuff she was into? Is that why she didn't tell Cook to fuck off? Have they done that kind of thing before? Oh fucking brain, stop thinking, stop thinking.

"So who's this Freddie then?" I asked.

Before Emily had time to answer a loud crashing guitar chord, made my head spin round towards the stage. At the front of it stood a tall handsome boy with a cheeky lopsided grin and an old beat up guitar.

"Hey everybody," he said. "Are you ready to make some noise?"

The response from the punters in the crowd was a mixture of enthusiasm and apathy, apart from one.

"Fucking Freddie," growled Effy, having mysteriously reappeared beside us. She started heading towards the stage. I noticed she had a half empty vodka bottle in her hand.

"No, Effy,' said Emily firmly' leaping into her friend's path. "We are not going to bash Freddie's head in with a vodka bottle tonight."

I looked at Emily in alarm. Was this actually a possibility? Ems shrugged back at me apologetically.

"I think I'd better get her home," she sighed. "I'll see you round though, yeah? I'm at the beach most days, or you can find me if you Google Fitchwater."

"Swim like a Fitch," I offered by way of a goodbye, earning myself the most wonderful peal of Emily laughter.

"I will," she said, twinkling her eyes at me.

She didn't leave. Well, obviously she did, but she held my gaze for way too long before she did so. In fact it was only the sound of Effy threatening to 'wrap that fucking guitar round Freddie's neck' that caused her to look away from me. And I looked too. I ignored the band on stage, as I blatantly checked out her ass whilst she dragged Effy away from the love triangle of doom. So my plan had been shot to shit, but Emily Fitch was gay. Effy was not her girlfriend. And at the very least, she wanted to be my friend. The rest I could work on. Time to go and rescue Thomas from the evil twin.