Author's Notes

First of all, thanks for all the kind words. You guys are awesome. Second, I couldn't resist. I just had to redo the blowbacks scene. I wasn't planning on it when I sat down to write the chapter, but when I got to that part, it just seemed ridiculously natural.

Abnormally Attracted to Sin

Chapter 3: Bring Your Own Sun

By Persephone's Nautical Nun

I down most of my freshly pour drink quickly. I feel my brain starting to turn certain parts of itself off. Good. There are things I don't want to think about right now. Effy hasn't spoken, and I think it's going to stay that way. She's not going to leave, though. Not unless I do. I can already feel the Effy Stonem adhesive to my side because she thinks I shouldn't be alone.

Whatever.

Freddie and JJ walk into together shortly after, and then I know why both Katie and Emily showed up. JJ and Emily have bee great friends since college, and Freddie and Katie gravitated towards each other for the simple fact they didn't really have anyone else. JJ, Freddie, and Cook were all still friends, though. It's strange, how many tiny cliques are in our circle of friends. No one got along with absolutely everyone else. Some people got along better with most of us, but someone, somewhere in the line had a problem.

Maybe we all just needed to grow up.

Though, why Cook didn't just tell us he invited everyone is beyond me. That boy never did make much sense.

"Where's Cook?" Freddie asks, looking at Effy. Ha. Not his girlfriend, my ass.

"He went to take care of Emily," she says, glancing at me. "I'll tell you later," she continues, after seeing his confused face.

"Hello, Naomi." JJ's stiff with me, but he always has been. I think he's got it in his head that I've wronged Emily in some epic way.

"Hi, JJ," I say to him, not bothering to make myself sound cheerful. It's not because he's JJ. It's because I feel like shit, and I'm kinda tipsy. I no longer want to be here. "Sorry I can't stay," I say, standing up. "I need to be getting home."

"Oh, okay," JJ says, looking me up and down just like everyone else has. He doesn't say anything, though. I'm actually really grateful to him for that. I don't know that I could have handled another Emily-centric interrogation right now.

"I'll come with you," Effy says, gathering her things.

"No, you don't have to do that." I've already given up, though, and you can see it from my posture. Effy just shoots me a look, and that's the end of that.

"Why is she wearing Emily's clothes?" I can hear Freddie ask JJ as we're leaving.

Effy lights up two cigarettes when we get outside and passes one of them to me. I gave up smoking a while back, but I take it anyway. There's nothing wrong with self-medication. I know it'll calm my nerves.

Still, when I inhale, I'm not prepared for just how good it feels. I had managed to quit long enough to forget the almost orgasmic satisfaction that comes with fire back on your tongue.

We walk slowly, and in silence. I don't know if she'll ask me about it. This is one of those situations where she'll either let it work itself out, or something needs to be said or done, and she won't stop until she gets it out.

I really hope it's not the latter.

I flick my cigarette butt off into the street when I'm finished with it, and shove my hands in my pockets. It's the only thing I can do with them right now.

"You know you're going to tell me what happened, don't you?" Effy asks several minutes later.

"There's nothing to tell."

"Liar."

I stop in my tracks and sigh heavily. The alcohol's made everything heavy, and I'm not sure I've got the strength for this. Effy turns around "Let me guess. You weren't expecting to see Emily today, because you told her you had something to do. Somewhere around there?"

I nod and look at the ground. I watch her ripped stockings come into view as she walks closer to me.

"Look, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do," she says softly.

My head snaps up, and my brow crinkles in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," she repeats. "But you really should do everything you want."

I don't think about the words that almost come tumbling out of my mouth. I have no idea I'm going to say them until I've already started. "I'm just sca-"

"I know," Effy cuts me off. Thank god, because I think if I started, I'd never stop. Everything's just so fucked up, and I don't know how to make it better. I don't even know if I want to make it better.

Well, that's just great. I'm real in touch with myself, aren't I?

Effy turns around and starts walking. I think I hear her mutter "All in good time" to herself, but I can't be sure.

Sometimes, I wonder if I just live my life in defiance of everybody around me.

*****

When I got home, I went right to sleep. I hadn't realized just how exhausted I was until I was back in my own bed. I had been glad for a place to sleep that was close by last night, but I hadn't gotten the best night's sleep in the world.

Convincing Effy to leave me alone wasn't all that hard. She just gave me one of her patented looks, you know, the kind that demand action of you, because if you don't, you're a hopeless prick, and the guilt will one day overtake you. Yes, Effy can say all of that with a look. It was actually really scary.

I felt a lot better after a nap, too, as though the problems with Emily weren't nearly as dramatic as I made them seem earlier in the day. Sure, I needed to do damage control, but this wasn't the end of the world. Emily wasn't really anything to me, after all. And I wasn't anything to her.

Hell, she shouldn't have been as upset as she was. It's not as though we have to report in with each other.

Still, I know I shouldn't have lied to her. It was childish. I should have just told her that I wasn't interested, and that would be that.

So, why can't I seem to do it?

I glance at my cell phone and realize that it's already eight o'clock. The night's going to get started soon. I also notice I've got a few missed calls and a text message from Cook. He wants to me to meet "everybody" at yet another club tonight. At least I know who's going to be there this time.

But no one will be there for at least another two hours. I decide it might be better to talk to Emily now, then try and deal with the tension that may surround us all later tonight.

I grab something quick to eat, and I'm already headed toward her place before I start sending her text messages.

"Hey, Em. Sorry about earlier. What are you up to?"

I only have to wait a few minutes for her reply. "Not much. Reading a book and trying to decide whether or not to go out with everyone tonight."

I slow my pace so I can type out a reply. I've never been good at texting and moving at the same time. "You should. Can I come over?"

I make it about half a block before I get my reply. "Sure."

That last one's hard to read. I have no idea what kind of mood she's going to be in when I get there.

The building that Emily lives in is old, but cool. The outside is painted in reds, and yellow, and blue, and I think the colors were really bright at one point. I can see artists from several decades ago living in places like this, sitting in their windows, sketching the passersby. They're University students in my head, and ambitious. It's a transitional kind of place.

Now, it almost looks like a place junkies go to squat and shoot up. Not that Emily does either one of those, the place just kind of gives off that vibe.

My stomach starts to feel tingly as I make my way up the stairs, but I manage to convince myself that I'm just really out of shape, despite the fact that I walk everywhere. Sometimes, I run.

I can hear music coming from Emily's apartment before I even get to it. It's muffled and I can't quite make it out, but it sounds like one of her underground girl rock bands, where the lead singer has a ridiculously high and cutesy voice, a distinct contrast to the heaviness of the music.

Goddamnit, why do I know this?

I take a deep breath and knock on her door. A few seconds later, I hear the volume being turned down, before she answers the door. She seems winded, and her hair's kind of scraggly. "You got here fast," she says, stepping aside to let me in.

"Yeah, I was kind of already on the way when I asked," I admit, stepping past her and into the living room. She's moved her electric guitar from her room to the far corner of the living room, opposite her stereo system, which is still playing her crazy music. I can easily see Emily jamming out by herself, playing along, pretending she was giving a concert. It's too bad she doesn't appear to have an amp. I would love to hear that.

"Wow," she says simply, moving over to her stereo and turning the music off completely.

"Oh, you can leave it on," I say, absentmindedly. I was actually kind of enjoying it. It was intriguing, and had a good beat.

She arches an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything, just turns the music back on. She doesn't turn it back up, though. She makes her way over to the big metal pillar that's going from floor to ceiling in the middle of her living room, and leans against it. "So what's up?" she asks.

She's defensive. She hasn't smiled at me all night, and she's kind of tense. She stands with her arms crossed across her chest, and won't maintain eye contact with me for long... But she's also not angry. Mostly, she just looks tired.

I wonder briefly what her and Cook talked about. I'd ask him, but I know he'd never tell me. It's one of his better traits, actually.

"Look, I just wanted to apologize," I say, outstretching my arms as though I'm at a loss for words. I guess I kind of am, but I know I'll find them. "It was immature, and I never should have lied to you."

Her shoulders tense as she takes a deep breath. She shoves her hands into her pockets, and I realize I've embarrassed her. God, I'm a fucking cow. "Hey," she says, turning from me and making her way into the kitchen. She only looks at me again when she's safely behind the counter. "It's not that big of a deal. Really. It was just… with Katie and everything…" she lets her sentence trail off. I think it's as close to an acceptance as I'm going to get, considering we both know it wasn't Katie that bothered her the most. Still, I'm grateful for the out.

Well, since I'm here, I might as well take an interest. "What's up with that, anyway?" I ask, moving to her former position leaning against the pillar. It closes the distance some, but there's still space and a counter between us, so I think we both can breathe. "I thought you guys had worked through all of that." I thought I remembered Cook saying something about it, a while back.

It was never any secret that Katie had issues with her sister's sexuality. Even I noticed the way it affected Emily throughout our time in college. Emily had always been quiet and overshadowed. Anyone who paid any attention could tell you she was miserable. But then she started standing up for herself. She came out, and started created an identity separate from her sister's.

I thought it was really great of her, at the time. That took a lot of guts.

But that move threw Katie's world view completely off-kilter, and she didn't know how to deal with it. She had always been the leader, and then when Emily wasn't there to follow her anymore, she didn't know what to do. I can still remember several cafeteria episodes where Katie lashed out in anger at Emily, simply for daring to be different.

But things had quieted down, and I had just assumed they had finally managed to patch things up. They are twins after all. Isn't it physically impossible for one to go on without the other? Or something? I don't know, there's supposed to be some mystical twin bond that no one can break.

How can anyone else really compete? Genetic law dictate's they'll always be each other's number one.

She sighs and shrugs a shoulder, leaning her elbows on the counter. "We have, for the most part," she explains. "She just… thinks I'm wasting my looks, or something. It's not so much the gay thing, and more the style thing."

Wow. There's an explanation I wasn't expecting. I also don't believe it, but it's really none of my business in the first place. It's hard to imagine anyone thinking Emily was wasting her looks. She didn't flaunt the typical things girls flaunted, but that just added to the entire look. Instead of never-ending cleavage, she'd wear a t-shirt that would call attention how slender her shoulders are. Instead of mini-skirts that look like they're painted onto her body, she wears pants that provide just a hint of the shape of the leg underneath the fabric. She wears beads and cloth around her wrists to call attention to her hands, and undecorated fingers. She has very clean nails…

"It's just hard on her," Emily says softly, as though she knew I didn't believe her. Her voice is so gentle that I know it's best not to push it, though. Interestingly enough, I had no desire to delve further into this until she spoke that way. Now, I just really want to know the cause of that sound. It's not one I like hearing.

I nod in understanding, even though I really don't.

I know I never really will.

We sit in awkward silence for a few minutes before she breaks it by looking at her phone. "We've still got an hour before we're supposed to meet Cook," she says, rifling through a tin on the cabinet and producing a spliff. "Care to get the party started early?"

Ah, yes. That's just what we need. Drugs when we're alone with Emily Fitch. Fan-fucking-tastic idea. I can't, however, get out of this situation. I can't flee, because I've come here to apologize for doing just that. "Sure," I say, smiling, and making my way over to the counter, surprising even myself.

She's already got it lit by the time I get over there, apparently deciding she was going to partake with or without me. Hey, that's an idea. What if I politely decline? No, there'd be no point in that. For one thing, I already said I'd smoke it with her, for another, I'll be doing far worse later tonight, anyway. She hands it to me and stretches, eyes looking at the ceiling.

Some might call her cat like.

She exhales above us as I take a drag, and smiles. Her eyes already have a mischievous glint to them, and I'm suddenly on edge. No amount of weed is going to soothe my nerves, now. "Do you want to do blowbacks?" she asks me when I pass it back to her, grinning slyly, and waving the spliff like a glow stick.

I scoff slightly, mostly to myself. "I never got blowbacks," I say. "Why can't people just smoke the damn things straight?"

She laughs at me. I kid you not, she laughs at me, not what I said. "Because it's fun," she explains, as though that should be obvious. "Have you ever tried it?" Her voice is defiant, and I find her good mood catching.

"No," I admit. "But, being all seeing, I already know it's shit."

She laughs again, this time with a disbelieving shake of her head. "Come on, then," she says, leaning over the counter. "Everything once."

This is one of those moments when I'm clearly being challenged and should really back off. But as I've thought about many times, I think I'm just defiant by nature. This leaves me with a serious dilemma. I can back off, and defy her by not rising to the challenge. Or, I can rise to the challenge in attempts of defiance.

I study her for a moment, trying to figure out what her motives are. She's expecting me to pull away, it's written all over her face. This is a test of some kind.

Fuck it.

I meet her halfway over the counter, and her eyes widen ever so slightly in surprise. Ha! She wraps her lips around the burning end of the spliff and quickly grabs my hands, bringing them up around the other end. I lean my face towards hers, and she moves her hands behind my jaw, guiding my face to hers. Her fingers are gently stroking the skin along the nape of my neck, and I realize that she's got calluses on the pads of her fingers, probably from playing the guitar. The palms of her hands are soft, though.

There's a rush of smoke, and it tastes different than it did a moment ago. Now, it's mixed with her breath, and it tastes sweeter, and headier. It quickly becomes too much, and I sit up quickly, trying to keep the massive amount of smoke in my lungs.

She smiles as I exhale, long and slow. This is going to be a long night.