Author's Notes

Sorry for the seemingly filler chapter. There are a few important things discussed, and some characterization that you may or may not catch, depending on how in depth you analyze the content. Shorter chapter, yet again. I've gotten to the point in writing this where the excitement of creation has worn off, and all that drives you is the idea of an eventual shape. So bear with me.

I've gotten a few questions about the book I mentioned last chapter, so let me clear that up real quick. No, I did not co-write it. I wrote the whole thing. The website credits two people, but Victoria was my editor. So, there. Also, yes, it is angsty gay chick lit, because that's just how I roll.

Going out of town tomorrow. Don't expect an update for several days.

Warnings: minor character relationship growth, use of the word "oozing," Cook growth

Abnormally Attracted to Sin

Chapter 10: Put Out the Call, But not to be Saved

By Persephone's Nautical Nun

"Oh, what happened to you?" my mother exclaims worriedly, rushing over to me and taking my face in her hands as soon as Effy and I step into the house. I tried to get her to leave, but she refused, so I guess I can't avoid letting my mum meet my friends any more.

I really wish everyone would stop fussing, it's not that bad.

"Mosh pit," Effy says with a tilt of her head. What the fuck, did she have that planned? How does she come up with this shit?

"Are you Emily?" my mother asks her, hands clasped together.

"No, Mum, this is Effy," I say, dropping my head. Why can't people just stop asking questions?

Her head snaps up to me, and the confusion is evident on her face. "I thought you said you were going out with Emily?"

"Yeah, well," I start, but Effy cuts me off. Thank god, because I don't know what might have come out of my mouth if I had been left to my own devices.

"We all met up," she explains, and Mum seems to accept it. She's not all that suspicious, though, so I'm not sure it's quite the testament to Effy's lying capabilities. Though, I'm sure they're formidable, considering she's so stoic all the fucking time. A blank stare would be considered completely natural for her.

"Right. Come on, Effy," I say, motioning for her to follow me with a wave of my hand. I figure it's safer to take the lull in conversation as an escape, and go ahead and get out of here before I get all tangled up in Effy's lies.

I collapse onto my bed as soon as we're in my room and Effy shuts the door behind us before sitting in the chair at my desk. "You don't have to stay," I tell her for the umpteenth time. "I really am just going to sleep."

"I know," she says, crossing her arms across her chest. "I just don't want to leave you, okay?"

It seems like strange behavior, but I'm not really the best judge these days. "Suit yourself, then," I grumble, and dive into a sea of pillows and blankets. It doesn't take long at all for me to fall asleep, and I actually sleep through the night.

*****

Hands.

That's the only thing I'm conscious of. Hands. There are two of them. At least, I hope there are two of them. I can't really be sure, though, because they're all over me.

They're sliding, and stroking, and grasping at me, and I can't breathe. I can feel the reasons behind them, how much they want to touch me, and handle me, and make me believe I'm something I'm not. They want to gather me up, and put me in a box, and oh, fuck; now there are lips.

The hands have grabbed at me too hard, and now I'm oozing. They have tightened their hold on me so hard, that I feel my insides being squeezed out of me, and there are lips, catching my liquid self as I drip away, and I'm torn apart faster the more I try to escape.

There's a flash of red, and I wake with a start. What the fuck kind of dream was that?

"Morning," Effy says, and I remember I'm not alone. She's leaning against my dresser, arms crossed in front of her, and I'm suddenly very weary about the fact that she stayed in my room unattended all night. I can just imagine the conclusions she's reached about my person based on my Gaiman collection.

What? I think he's a cool guy. Neverwhere was the shit, and I'll never look at Snow White the same way ever again thanks to "Snow, Glass, Apples."

"Bad dream?" she asks, eyebrow already raised. She should just leave it there permanently, I'm sure it would save her time and energy.

"Yeah," I say, groggily.

"Feel better?" she asks, coming to sit on the corner of my bed.

"Yeah," I say again, this time with slight wonder. Things really do look better on the other side of sleep, and my face doesn't hurt much anymore. I don't know why anyone would ever become an insomniac, it's terrific medicine for whatever ails you, be it physical or otherwise.

Of course, who needs sleep when you've got hard drugs?

"Good," she says, smiling. "Now you can tell me what exactly happened the other night."

I resist the urge to hide back under my pillow, and settle for sighing up at my ceiling instead. There really is no getting out of this, and I wonder for a moment why Effy's pushing so hard. It seems somewhat out of character. "Fine," I say, one corner of my mouth pulling upwards. "But can we please go get something to eat first? I'm fucking starving."

She smiles and chuckles, and this is one of those rare moments when Effy looks like something other than a vampire. They don't happen often. They're few and far between, but every once in a while, a little hint of life will come out, and it's always wonderful when it does. I'm actually really glad that I've amused her. "Yeah, we can get breakfast," she says, grabbing my hand and helping me out of bed.

*****

We're sitting in a corner booth (yes, I've got a thing for corners, no, I don't care what this means) in some chrome-polished wanky retro diner, but they make really good breakfast food, so I can forgive them for their atmosphere. Effy's sitting across from me, sipping a coffee while I tuck into my breakfast sandwich. I can practically hear my arteries clog, but I'm so far beyond giving a shit that I don't even remember where it's located.

"Alright, you've got your food," she says, setting her mug down. "Out with it."

I force down my current mouthful of food and take a sip of my own coffee. My jaw's a little stiffer today than it was yesterday, but a lot of the pain is gone. "I don't even know where to begin," I explain with a wave of my hand.

"The beginning's usually a good spot."

Oh, well, gee, we could trace that back all the way to middle school. We'll be here all day, thanks, Effy. "What if the beginning's really dull?" I ask.

"So then start at the beginning of the not dull part," she says, with an extra head tilt, and I think Effy's patience might finally be reaching its end. I never thought I'd see that ever.

The interesting part. Right. I take another bite of my sandwich in an effort to buy myself more time, like in those Twix commercials, but apparently my sandwich is not as magical, and I haven't come up with some off the wall one-liner that would completely resolve the situation and create positive outcomes for myself by the time I've finished chewing. "I guess that would be the kissing, then."

I don't think I've ever seen Effy's brow raise quite that high before, and I've seen an awful lot of her variations on the look. She doesn't say anything, though, clearly waiting for me to elaborate all on my own.

Okay, I guess I can do that. There's no point in running from it now, right?

So, I tell her. I tell her about the dance, and I tell her about the kiss. I tell her about the scattered journey to Emily's apartment, and about how I couldn't get there fast enough. I tell her that I put a stop to it almost as soon as we go inside.

"I don't understand," she says, shaking her head, and placing a hand on the table, palm up. "If you were so into it, why did you put a stop to it?"

I'm at a loss, because even though I have a reason, one I happen to think is actually valid, I'm not sure I can explain it unless whoever I'm explaining it to is actually in my head. "It's just… it's Emily," I say, and that's enough of an explanation for me.

"What's wrong with Emily?" she asks. Oh, look, another head tilt. I could see that coming from miles away.

"The fact that she's Emily." I don't understand why people can't seem to grasp this concept. "It's just kind of sordid, okay?" I ask defensively. "Besides, the whole mood changed as soon as we got inside. Everything slowed down, became less random. She looked at me and I could see…" I let myself trail off, because I'm not sure I know what I saw, and I don't really think that part's for Effy, anyway.

"So, for clarification, you wanted to fuck, and she wanted to make love," she says, rolling her eyes at the last part of her sentence.

"Exactly!" I exclaim, gesturing emphatically. "Why does it always have to be messy? Why does it have to be this big deal? Why can't it be two people just having a good time…?"

I can tell she's trying so hard not to giggle, so I go ahead and do it for her. "I know, I know, I sound like you and Cook." I seriously need to rethink this train of thought.

Her face loses all traces of emotion instantly, and I think I might have stumbled on something. There was a reason. There was a reason she was so quick to come over yesterday, and there was a reason why she stayed, and goddamnit, I will find out what it is. "How is Cook, anyway?" I ask coyly. "I haven't heard from him since Thursday. I figured he would have been all over me for details about Friday night."

She takes a sip of her coffee, and I know I've never seen Effy stall before. That's my trick. "I don't know why you haven't heard from him," she says, swallowing. "That surprises me."

I arch an eyebrow, because I know she's not telling me something.

Hey. Effy tricks work on Effy, too. Interesting. "He's lost his fucking mind," she says, collapsing her arms onto the table.

Don't make me arch the eyebrow again. I'll do it, I'm not afraid. "What do you mean?" I ask, obviously annoyed that I have to lead her. Effy should not have to be led.

"He just…" she rolls her eyes, and this is another first. I've never seen her not know how to put something. Sure, she may not talk all the time, but that doesn't mean she doesn't know what to say. "He wants to… date."

I'm glad I had finished my sandwich by this time, because I'm certain I would have choked on it. "Excuse me?" I ask, expecting just about anything but that.

"I don't know," she says, playing with one of her nails. "He got me this bracelet, and mentioned something about wanting to be exclusive."

"You're not now?" I knew they weren't together, but I was fairly certain neither of them were fucking anyone else. The look on Effy's face tells me otherwise, however, so I put my hands up in surrender. "When did this happen?"

"Yesterday, right before I called you, and right after he told me about Katie hitting you," she says. "Anyway, I'm not speaking to him until he comes to his senses," she explains, shrugging a shoulder. "But this isn't about me," she says, her voice getting brighter. "Now, how are we going to work out your Emily problem?"

"What Emily problem?" I ask. "Why don't I just refuse to speak to her until she comes to her senses?"

She smiles, and looks me straight in the eyes. "Because let's face it, Naomi, the mindless fuck works for only a certain kind of person. The kind of person that's not you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I think I'm slightly offended at her comment. I'm sexy. There are plenty of guys I could go out and have sex with and never see again. I think I'd like that.

"Name one person you've had random sex with," she says, and I open my mouth to answer. "Cook doesn't count. He'll have sex with anything." Interesting. What does that say about Effy?

Cook and I had shared a drunken hookup in college, once. I had been afraid at the time that it was going to cause tension between Effy and myself, but apparently Cook had done that sort of thing before, and she just found it amusing. It's something Cook and I occasionally have a laugh about.

"Right. You can't come up with anyone, can you?" she asks, looking amused.

"Well, just because I haven't in the past, doesn't mean I can't start now," I reason. It makes perfect sense to me.

She laughs. "Trust me, Naomi. You are not that girl." She's right. I know she's right. That doesn't mean I have to like it, however.

"Come on, I told you to be sure to kiss her goodnight," Cook says, appearing next to the table out of nowhere. Has he been taking ninja classes?

"Where did you come from?" I ask, surprised.

He laughs, and I noticed he hasn't even acknowledged Effy. Then again, she hasn't acknowledged him either. "Saw you in the window," he explains, pointing to said window. "Katie's got a real right hook, then?" he asks, gesturing to the fading bruise on my face.

"I did kiss her good night, thank you very much," I tell him, responding to his first comment, but refusing to answer his last question.

He sits down across from me, pushing Effy towards the wall. Neither of them has even looked at the other, and I'm starting to fear this is going to turn out incredibly awkward. "Why the fuck did she sick Katie on if you kissed her good night?" He looks genuinely confused. Oh, Cook.

"I don't think she sent her after me," I say. "I think I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. And I think it's because I didn't follow up on the kissing."

He still looks confused, so I tell Cook, too. I figure Emily's already told Katie and JJ. Katie will probably gossip to Freddie about it, because that's what she does, and then everybody will know, so I might as well go ahead and throw my side of the story out there.

"Well, yeah, I'd fucking slap you, too!" he exclaims when I've finished.

"Didn't exactly get slapped," I deadpan.

He looks at me very seriously for a few moments. I've never been under his scrutiny before, and it's slightly more unnerving than I thought it would be. I glance over at Effy and realize she's leaning against the wall, looking miserable.

"What's wrong with you, Naomi?" he asks me after what seems like hours.

"What?" I said, snapping my eyes up to meet his.

He lays his hands down on the table. "You've got this great girl, right? I mean, she's Emily. She's nice and sweet, but hot. She's really actually very cool, and you're just going to toss her off to the side because she cares about you?"

I'm starting to get the feeling that this conversation is no longer about me. A quick glance over at Effy tells me I'm right, seeing as she looks like she might actually kill to get out of here.

So this is why she was so adamant about staying with me last night. She used me as a scapegoat so she wouldn't have to talk to Cook. Way to go, Effy.

"It just seems like a waste," he says sadly. "I thought you were cleverer than that."

What the fuck is he supposed to mean by that? "Has it ever crossed anybody's minds that I'm just not interested?" I ask, my voice rising.

"Well, yeah," he says. "But you just waxed all poetic about how hot getting physical with Emily was until she got serious. Which obviously means you're interested."

He has a point, but that doesn't mean I have to tell him that. He looks between me and Effy, looking at her for the first time since he got here, and shakes his head. "I don't understand you girls. Really, I don't." Effy still refuses to look at him. He stares at her for a minute, probably hoping to catch her eye, but eventually he realizes it's a lost cause, and gets up.

He kneels next to the table on his way out to give me his parting words. "Someone amazing wants you, love," he tells me, moving the cigarette behind his ear to his mouth. "You're stupid to piss on it."

He leaves, and I look at Effy. He clearly was not talking about just me, but she's not speaking. "Well," I say, looking around. "That was awkward."

People don't give Cook enough credit. While he may have been trying to get a message across to Effy in some strange roundabout way, he still dispensed some halfway decent advice.

Now, if only I knew what to do with it.