Once again Emma finds herself staring at the clock on the wall, desperately willing time to pass faster. Her legs are draped over the faded brown desk Nardone assigned her at the beginning of the year, showcasing the black ripped jeans she'd deliberately worn again. Knowing full well they're a dress code violation. It feels as though her life is on repeat and she's just moving through the motions – day in, day out she shows up to Nards class and spends the entire time thinking about all the places she'd love to drive away to. The one she thinks about most is Maine, where she imagines there's a small town filled with friendly faces and people waving to one another across the street on their way to work. In the Summer, she likes to think the sound of children's laughter would echo as they pretended to be princes and princess – play fighting at the local park, whilst in the Fall the sickly-sweet smell of cinnamon and freshly baked apples would waft through the air. Drifting out the doors of the local diner and carrying till the whole town could smell it. In Winter, she conjures up images of warm fires and cocoa, soothing and safe. But alas, these are just the fantasies of a life she knows she can never have. Her birth Mother probably doesn't even live in Maine, Emma just has a faint memory of being there at some point when she was younger, 'now look where I've ended up' she thinks, rocking back on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs the school have owned since the prehistoric age.
Suddenly two hands grip the back of the chair and almost send her hurtling towards the floor as they slam it down with a thud. She only just manages to swiftly slide her legs off the desk before they get trapped between it and the plastic. "We do not rock on our chairs." Nard sneers, striding past Emma – towards the front of the room, wiping her hands on her blouse as she does. As though just touching Emma's chair could've contaminated her with a deadly disease. "It's dangerous." She adds. Emma rolls her eyes, imagining Nard trying to refrain from smiling if Emma were to knock herself out by falling off her chair, her wrinkly skin pulled taught around her sharp cheek bones. "And where is your book this morning Miss Swan?" the old cow asks. Emma shrugs and messes with the lighter in her pocket, tempted to announce that she set the stupid textbook on fire and watched the damn thing burn, she'd love to see the colour drain out of Nards face then. It would also probably get her sent out and give her a chance to get in the bug and drive off.
'Fuck it' she thinks, 'I'll say it'. But just as she's about to speak somebody quite deliberately clears their throat behind her. In a flash Emma's swung round to glare at them, wondering what they could possibly need, but all she finds is a textbook held out to her. "You can borrow my spare copy." The low, modulated voice says. Her first instinct is to turn back to her own desk and ignore the offer, but before she does she takes a proper look at the face and body attached to the hands. The person addressing her is dressed in a well fitted, long sleeved, white shirt and she can see the black jeans leading down to his lumberjack boots. His hand shakes slightly as he holds out the book to her and the smile above his well chiselled chin is small and reserved, the look he is giving her is not one of pity but more one of understanding. Despite the fact he can only be eighteen, there's something about him that suggests he's lived enough for a lifetime, Emma thinks it might be the slight tilt of his head and the way he lightly scratches the side of his forehead with his free hand. Features that don't make him look old but reflect an aged mind. There's a familiarity that seems to radiate from him but Emma can't quite place him, she looks at him for a second longer trying to work out what she's missed. His brown hair is swept over to one side at the front, it's tousled and messy – but in an endearing way. His eyes are a deep blue that seem to reflect the sunlight, she can imagine getting lost in them. They captivate Emma and she feels a strong pull to him but she cannot work out why.
The boy clears his throat once again and momentarily looks down, his hand now trembling in a slightly more noticeable way. That's when it hits her, the piercing blue eyes looking at her like a rabbit caught in the headlights are the same eyes she met in a single glance through the window in the door. This is the boy who disappeared down the corridor before she could catch him. Suddenly Emma feels uneasy, she grabs the book and narrows her eyes at him before spinning back round. Not even bothering to utter a single word to him. A shiver travels down her spine and she spends the rest of class trying to hide how flustered she feels.
After school Emma speeds all the way to Graham's house on autopilot, she parks outside his front lawn and strides up to the door, opening it without bothering to knock. She knows his parents are out of town and he never bothers to lock up during the day. The worn, dark green duffle she keeps in the trunk of her car is slung over her shoulder so she hangs it on the pristine white bannister. She often spends the night at Ruby's or Graham's so she keeps it permanently packed with a toothbrush and spare change of clothes. As always she slips her shoes off as well and quickly sends a text to her foster Mother to let her know she'll be out for the night, before tossing the cell phone into the duffle and heading upstairs.
Graham's room is at the end of the hallway so she can see him lying on his bed through the crack in the door, it creaks lightly as she pushes it open. "Hey." He says when he notices her leaning in the doorway. "You staying the night?" She nods and he smiles, getting up to walk towards her. Gently he grabs her by the waist - pulling her towards him and kissing her. Immediately she discards her jacket and top as they make their way towards the bed, trying to find a way to forget about the strange feeling she'd been experiencing ever since the boy from the stairwell offered her his book. Graham kisses her neck as she pulls her hair out of the elastic and lets it cascade down her back, then he moves to her collarbone and she spins them round so that she can fall back onto the bed, pulling him on top of her. Taking the hint, he discards his own shirt and continues peppering her collarbone with hot open-mouthed kisses, trailing down to her bra and lightly licking her left nipple through the fabric, causing her hips to involuntarily buck ever so slightly. Impatiently she reaches round and unclasps the bra herself, shucking it off and throwing it across the room. Graham continues to work on her now exposed breasts with his tongue, as his hands move up and down her sides. Emma manages to snake her hands in-between their bodies and makes light work of undoing his belt and jeans so with a little shuffle he can slide them off. Momentarily there's a pause once his jeans are off and they look at each other, she reaches up and slides a hand down his cheek, but snatches it back when her mind morphs the light blue eyes staring back at her, into the deep blue ones she's trying to forget.
With the still moment over, Graham leans down to kiss her so she closes her eyes and tries to clear her mind of everything. Wanting to see darkness and nothing else. He grinds the straining bulge in his boxers against her core through her jeans, his arousal evident. Then breaking the kiss he asks if she's going to take her jeans off, she nods and he climbs off her so she can quickly stand up and undo them before pulling them down and letting them pool at her feet. Looking down at them she freezes for a moment, her mind racing at an incredible pace, replaying all the events from the last couple of days. Reminding her of the gaze through the window and the car conversations with Ruby, each snippet a piercing stab to the chest. Winding her. "Are you okay?" Graham asks, snapping her back to reality, she realises she's still stood facing away from him, wearing nothing but her black lace thong, her jeans pooled at her feet. She doesn't answer for a second. Is this really what she wants? To be with Graham, physically? Over and over? He slowly walks up behind her and tenderly wraps his arms around her waist. "Emma." He says, softly licking her earlobe.
She steps out of his embrace and turns to face him. "Can I just take a nap for a while?" She asks, even though it's mid-afternoon. "It's just hit me how exhausted I am." The lie rolls off her tongue, despite her wishing it didn't. She doesn't want to string Graham along, but she's overwhelmed and desperately trying to push her feelings down - because she doesn't think it's fair that she's suddenly lost all interest in him other than the physical attraction. For a split-second his facial expression is one of disappointment but he quickly regains composure and smiles sweetly. Almost enough to make Emma want to gag.
"Of course." He says, moving back over to the bed and tidying it up. That's something she has to give him points for – the understanding. It's the reason so many girls at school haven't minded being his one night stands in the past, although in public he may only offer a fleeting glance or casual wave, when you are one on one it's clear how much he cares. He cares even if there isn't sex involved and that's why Emma was drawn to him in the first place. Graham was never bothered by her lack of emotional involvement, he didn't mind that she couldn't break down her walls and let him in – he still cared for her, regardless, and he never abandoned her. Now though, as Emma carefully slides her jeans back on and Graham leaves to shower, she realises she wants to be able to give as much as she receives - and with so little emotional attachment on her part it's not going to be possible with Graham.
With the gentle hum of water flowing in the background she wanders downstairs to retrieve her phone from her duffle and takes it back to his room with her before lying down on his double bed. She realises they've never really declared sides, as usually it's a case of passing out in a state of post-sex bliss, and picking sides is more the kind of thing people in committed emotional relationships do. Which is certainly not how she'd sum their dynamic up. Still it makes her slightly uncomfortable so she keeps switching until eventually she ends up on the right-hand side and just hopes Graham doesn't care either way. Then she sends Ruby a text. 'Need to clear my mind, u free to skip class 2morrow?' Ruby normally responds within a few minutes so Emma lies back and stares at the ceiling, closing her eyes.
When a loud ping jolts her awake it occurs to Emma that she must have fallen asleep. Her head feels groggy and her eyelids heavy, when she reaches for her phone she finds a body next to her. The rhythmic breathing and steady movement of his chest letting her know that Graham is fast asleep. After a few seconds she realises the light has faded and that somehow her quick nap lasted through mid-afternoon and into late evening. Her phone pings again reminding her to check it, she fumbles for a second before she finds it just under Graham's back – carefully she prises it from underneath him and unlocks it to find a message from Ruby. 'Sorry was out earlier. Cant really skip 2morrow I need 2 keep seducing Whale. Unless urgent?' Emma sighs and rolls her eyes, still feeling that it's inappropriate for Ruby to chase Dr Whale, but having already expressed her concerns she's not sure what else she can do. Her desperate need to escape bubbles up to the surface once again so without a second thought she climbs out of bed and shoves her cell phone in her back pocket. She feels around in the dark until she finds her shirt, throwing it quickly over her head when she does – not bothering to find the discarded bra. Then in less than a minute she's out the door with her duffle bag on her shoulder and her shoes haphazardly slipped on.
The bug groans when she turns the key in the ignition but still starts up as always, allowing Emma to gently accelerate as she glides down the street away from her life. She glances at the duffle lying on the seat next to her, resisting the urge to glance back at Graham's house.