Author's Notes
This chapter was the most difficult for me to write, so far. I started this thing about three different times and got several pages into it, only to read over and decide it was all shit. So it took me a while to get into a groove. This chapter's a bit shorter than they have been, but it's still a decent length, and I don't think any of you will be disappointed. Also, to be completely honest, I'm having a blast with Emily's characterization, so I'm glad so many of you enjoy it, because it's damn near my favorite part of this to write.
Warnings: mopeds, indecisive!Naomi
Abnormally Attracted to Sin
Chapter 8: Crossed Over the Line
By Persephone's Nautical Nun
"I think I've got a date with Emily tomorrow night," I say dejectedly, flopping down onto a seat next to Effy and Cook.
I had been on my way to the campus book store, needing to pick up a test sheet for a class on Friday, but as I was walking through the student center, I had noticed them on a couch and decided to join them.
Effy just tilts her head, but Cook looks ecstatic. A little too ecstatic, if you ask me. "It's about time," he says, smiling.
I turn my head to glare at him. "She tricked me," I explain, almost growling.
Effy smiles and stifles a laugh, but otherwise doesn't react. "What do you mean she tricked you?" Cook asks, looking genuinely confused.
"She made it to where I couldn't say no," I elaborate. "Look, do we have to talk about it?" I groan, finding a throw pillow and pulling it over my head.
"You're the one that brought it up," Effy points out, and I hit her with my pillow, which she promptly takes away.
"It's just that I don't know what it means. I don't know what to expect," I explain, thrusting my hands out, palms up. "What does she do?"
Cook laughs and claps once or twice. "What do any of us do?" he asks me, and I suppose he's got a point. "Just, uh, be yourself, yeah?" he advises. "And make sure to kiss her good night."
I flip him off, for the simple fact that I have no earthly idea how else to respond to that.
"Yeah, girls hate it when you don't kiss them good night," Effy agrees. Like she has any experience. Wait a minute…
What the fuck, why am I getting dating tips? This is beyond fucked.
I get up and storm out of the student center, imagining their smug little faces looking after me. Shit. I forgot to get that exam form. I guess I'll have to do that tomorrow before class, just another thing I've got to worry about.
*****
Emily shows up right on time, and I'm not surprised.
"You look nice, dear," my mother tells me as I come down the stairs. "Do you have a date?"
Now, there's an interesting question. To be honest, I've asked myself this same question a countless number of times since its conception, and I still haven't come up with a definitive answer. I mean, it's on date night, but the word "date" was never actually used. Then again, I'm getting picked up, rather than meeting her somewhere, and that's slightly more than friendly if you ask me.
"No, Mum," I say, making my way over to the door. "Just going out with Emily."
"Oh, okay," she says. "You girls have fun." Right. Like she even knows who Emily is. Not that it's her fault, really. I've taken special care to make sure my mother meets none of my friends. She's far too bat shit, wonderful as she is.
"Alright," I say and open the door. Emily looks stunning, not that that's shocking, or anything. She's wearing a boy's novelty t-shirt, with a strange tribal pattern spreading across the left shoulder and down the side, and it hangs off of her in all the right places. Her jeans are black, and surprisingly feminine, and I feel somewhat underdressed compared to her.
Which is silly, really, because we're both in jeans, she just makes it look so damn good.
Shut up, brain.
"Good evening," she says, smiling, and I find her good mood catching.
"Good evening," I respond, playing along.
"Ready to go?" she asks, shuffling her feet. It didn't take her long to become embarrassed.
I always found her mood shifts strange. She could be hurt one minute, and smiling the next. She could be playful, and turn around and become bashful. It's like the girl felt everything all at once, and couldn't pick one to keep for any length of time.
"Yeah," I say, and step out of my house, closing the door behind me. I look past Emily and realize she's shown up on a moped. I stop halfway down the walkway and arch an eyebrow at her, pointing to the motorbike.
"What?" she says, pretending to be offended. "I find them terribly romantic," she tells me, skipping towards it.
"Of course you do," I say, trailing behind, keeping a safe distance away from the vehicle.
She gets on, and motions for me to do the same.
"Oh, no," I say, putting my hands up. I'm not getting on that death trap.
"Oh, come on, don't be such a pussy," she taunts, and that's the end of that argument. I really do need to think about this defiant thing I have. It's probably going to be the death of me.
I climb on behind her and place my hands on her hips and try not to think about the way they feel against my palms. She turns around, smirking. "You're going to need to hold on tighter than that," she says, laughing.
I roll my eyes and slide my hand around her waist, clasping them in front of her abdomen. I can feel her chuckle, but she doesn't say anything as we drive away. I try to keep my hold on her loose, but the faster we go, the tighter I have to hold on, until I'm pressed flatly against her.
Her hair is whipping about my face, and getting into my eyes, and all I can see is this brilliant shade of red. I bury my face in her shoulder to protect my face, and I can feel her tense, before quickly relaxing.
She takes me to a tiny hole in the wall restaurant, where you have to walk down stairs into the sidewalk to even get to the door, which often opens into a smaller set of stairs in the actual establishment. The place is dimly lit and there are only a handful of tables, all lined against the walls, with partitions built around them. It was an informal kind of place, and she led me to the farthest booth, sitting us herself. I think she would have pulled a chair out for me if there had been one.
"What is this place?" I ask, leaning forward, watching as a young waiter makes his way over to us.
"Can I start you off with some drinks?" he asks us politely, looking back and forth between the two of us.
Emily orders a bottle of wine, and I'm surprised they have that available here. It seemed more like the beer and mixed drinks kind of place.
"Just a little place with delicious food that serves just about everything," she says, shrugging a shoulder. "But that's not why I like it."
Okay, I'll bite. "Why do you like it?"
She turns silent and gestures to our surroundings. I listen for a moment, but can't figure out what she's talking, or rather not talking about. "I can't hear anything," I whisper, afraid of disturbing the still.
"Exactly," she says, satisfied grin pulling at her lips. "It's like we're in our own little world," she continues, looking around at the booth. "And no one else can come in," she finishes, finally letting her eyes rest on me.
Where did that sudden hot flash come from?
This is ridiculous. How did I end up here? If someone had told me a week ago, that I'd be on a date with Emily Fitch, I would have laughed in their faces. Now, here I am, and I even seem to be enjoying myself.
No. This is not a real date. This is a one time thing that I need to do to clear my conscience, and then I don't have to deal with it any more. I like the sound of that much better.
I just need to focus. I need to be on the top of my game tonight. Failure is not an option. I need to pick a goal and focus on it. I'll give her tonight, but then I'm going to tell her that I'm straight, and all of this really is pointless, and we can finally end whatever this thing is that we're doing.
What exactly are we doing?
Focus!
The waiter comes back with our wine quickly and takes our meal orders, then politely excuses himself from our tiny world.
"So what's the deal with AJ?" I ask once he's gone, not knowing what's safe and what's not. "He's kind of…" I make a circular motion with my hand, indicating that I'm searching for a word.
"Vulgar?" she offers, and I couldn't have picked a better one myself.
"Yeah, exactly."
She smiles and shrugs nonchalantly. "AJ's AJ," she says, but that doesn't really explain anything. "He's a Sunshine Kid."
I feel one of my eyebrows trying to make its way into my hairline, and I rein it in. She sees it anyway. "His term," she continues, throwing her hands up. "Supposedly, like fifty years ago the US government did experiments on children with LSD. Like, they gave them a fuckton. And they grew up to be kind of crazy, and out there."
Now, I'm confused. "But that was fifty years ago," I say. "Surely AJ wasn't experimented on."
"Oh, no, of course not," she says, backtracking. "It's just that he started dosing before he really had the mental capacity for it, and he did it quite often."
"So he's what, special?" I ask, because I don't know how else to word it. I really am just trying to understand. I mean, that kid was seriously off.
She shakes her head emphatically. "Not in the least," she says. "He just thinks a little bit differently, and everything that crosses his mind comes out of his mouth."
I nod because I guess that makes sense, and the waiter comes back with out food. I had forgotten we were even in a restaurant. I understand what Emily meant now, about loving the place for the atmosphere.
We eat mostly in silence, speaking only to exclaim how delicious the food is. Emily seemed to know about all of these tiny little worlds that the rest of us never noticed, and I wonder how she's done it.
We split the bill, which relaxes my nerves a bit. Well, that and the wine. But because neither one of us paid for the other, it feels more like two friends spending time together, rather than some imposed date. Maybe that's all this is. Maybe I won't have to have that dreadful conversation at the end of the night, where I effectively cut her out of my life forever.
Not because I'd want to, but because I'd have to.
It doesn't take nearly the amount of coercing to get me back on the moped as it did the first time around, mostly because once you've been on it once, it seems a bit silly to make a fuss over it again. We take off, and soon I start to think we're heading back to Emily's place. I can feel a panic attack coming on, and I tighten my hold on her. We can't do this. Don't take me there, Emily, no good can come of it.
But she doesn't get that far before she parks, and I try not to heave a sigh of relief. She leads me down several streets, and into a random club, and I realize I've been here before. I was here exactly a week ago, actually.
Wow. It's only been a week?
"I really liked this place," she says, leaning towards me so that I can hear her over the music. She leads me into the bar area, where it's quieter. "I wanted to get to know it. Hope you don't mind."
I shake my head. "Not at all, I liked it, too," I reply.
There's a slight moment of awkward where we're just looking at each other stupidly before she finally breaks it. "Right. So go grab a table, and I'll get us some drinks," she's shoved her hands into her pockets again. We all know what that means. She's off before I have a chance to respond.
"Okay," I say to no one, and turn in the direction of the tables. I pick one in a corner out of habit.
It's still early, and the place hasn't quite hit its swing, yet, so Emily's not gone for long, and finds me quickly. She seems to have taken the time to work her confidence back up.
Alright, what have we got here? Shots of rum. That's interesting.
"So tell me something interesting," she demands, sitting down across from me.
I laugh, because it's such a strange request. "Like what?" I ask, downing my first shot. It burns wonderfully down into my stomach.
She shrugs her shoulders and knocks back her own shot. "Anything," she says, smiling.
Thanks for the clarification.
I think for a moment, searching my brain for something worthwhile. I'd hate to disappoint her, after all. I knock back a second shot to try and buy myself some more time. Still, all I can come up with in the time is "I told Effy and Cook we had a date." I want to take it back as soon as it's out.
I can see her work to keep her face neutral, and when she arches an eyebrow at me, the timing is completely off. "Oh, really?" she asks, taking her second shot.
"Well, I didn't know," I say, waving my arm like an imbecile. "It was never discussed. I mean… is it?" God, could I sound like any more of a freak?
"Do you want it to be?" She looks up at me from the table slowly, and her look is intense. I start to feel as though I'm having my own private summer.
"No." Maybe. I don't know. Down another shot.
"Then it's not a date," she says, leaning back, and taking another shot. I've noticed that she hasn't started any round, and is just keeping up with me.
I can hear the song change on the dance floor and Emily moans in pleasure. Wow, that was an interesting sound. "I love this song," she groans, and stands up. She grabs my arm and tries to pull me towards the dance floor, but I won't let her. "Oh, there are those walls again," she says, dropping my arm and sounding disappointed. My brow furrows at her words. "You know I can see them, don't you?" she asks me, arching an eyebrow.
She sighs through her nose and tilts her head, scrutinizing me. I don't like the way it feels, like there's something just beneath the surface of my skin that may come jumping out at any moment. "You analyze everything to death, don't you? Until there's nothing left of it. Don't you ever just let yourself feel? Don't you ever want to just let yourself go?"
"I'm not sure I know how," I mumble, taking my fourth shot.
Emily leans forward and grabs a glass from the table, shooting it quickly. "Let me show you," she says, extending her hand to me.
I take her hand, and the only thing I know is that I'll never know why.
She leads me out of the bar area and onto the dance floor. I can feel the bass in the floor beneath my face, erratic and slow. The music is slow, but driving, and a woman is crooning along with it. Emily drags me all the way out into the middle of the floor, which has slowly been filling with people, and starts to sway.
She dances by herself first, outlining her body with her hand, turning her cheek towards her shoulder. Her eyes are closed, and she's biting her lip, and her hips are rolling in torturous slow time with the music.
She opens her eyes, and they look darker than I've ever seen them before, though I don't know if it's the alcohol or the music or both. She moves closer to me and slides the pads of her fingers down my neck. I still haven't begun to move. I'm too caught up in watching the way she moves her own body, and I'm hit with the realization that this is the same thing that happened the last time I was here.
The alcohol, and the music, and the atmosphere, and Emily combine to create this alternate reality where I want things I couldn't possibly, and my head is starting to feel fuzzy.
There was something I was supposed to be focusing on. There was a point to all this, somewhere back down the road, but I honestly don't remember what it is, and as Emily slides her hands to my hips I can honestly say I don't give a shit.
She moves me in time with her, and I know I'm not going to be able to get away with standing here like an idiot, so I give in and start to dance with her.
Her body never stops moving as she slides on hand down my arm. She closes her fingers around my hand and guides my hand up around her neck, and she snakes her other arm around the small of my back, pulling us closer together.
It's too much. It's all too much, and I can't stand it anymore. Her eyes are burning into mine, and I think if I don't get away I'll never breathe again. I start to laugh, because this situation is ridiculously absurd, and pull away.
She grabs my wrist just before I push through enough people to separate us and pulls me back to her. I'm impressed by her upper body strength. I never would have thought someone so small could be that strong. She wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me so close that our bodies are pressed against each other. "Just let go, Naomi," I feel rather than hear her say into my ear, and her breath is hot and tickles.
She turns her back to me and wraps my arms around her waist. She reaches an arm up and runs her fingers through my hair, clenching them into a fist at the nape of my neck, and the sensation is indescribable. She drags her nails along the skin on the back of my neck, I find myself sliding my own hands down her abdomen to her hips.
I don't know if it was the rum, or Emily, or if I had just finally gone completely insane. There is absolutely no explanation for what happens next, and I'm really not proud of my actions.
But when she turns her face towards mine, and I see her mouth in profile, see the way her bottom lip sticks out ever so slightly as she releases it from between her teeth, and the way her eyes are shut in concentration, it feels as though my body is no longer my own, and whatever is going to happen is going to happen, and there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it, no matter how hard my brain screams in rebellion.
I do the only thing I think I'm physically capable of.
I kiss her.