Later, when her head's reeling and her eyes are streaming and her heart's breaking, she can't think beyond getting away, from the rooftop, from Naomi – and her name is another stab to the heart. It hurts.
She runs, blindly, hurtling down the stairs and out of the building. Her pulse is pounding in her ears but she can hardly hear it over the screaming of her thoughts. Naomi. Cheated. Ruined it. Why?
She ends up at Cook's, banging on the door like there's a fire. He's shirtless and barefoot, standing in the doorway and staring at her with concern. "Em? What's the matter sweetheart?"
She falls into his arms, presses herself against his chest, weeping and sobbing and choking on her tears.
"Come on, kid. Come inside, have a drink or three and tell your Uncle Cookie all about it."
She shakes her head quickly, desperately. She doesn't want to talk about it. She can't. Cook of all people should understand that. She starts to pull away, to keep running, because if she just keeps going, then maybe she can outrun this and maybe it won't hit and it won't hurt and she'll be okay, she will if she can just-
But Cook reaches out and catches her hand. She struggles and mumbles No, Cook, let me go. She starts half hearted but she gets frantic when she realises that he won't let go. Because it's not just about holding hands. He won't let her go and if he doesn't let her go then she can't just-
It's about keeping her safe. He cares. He cares.
Cook cares about her, and Naomi doesn't. Naomi doesn't care about her. Naomi doesn't love her. She's tried, she's tried so hard. She was brave. She was so fucking brave and she tried so fucking hard and she's here, hurt and crying, because Naomi fucking Campbell, who hates injustice and fights for what she believes, wasn't brave enough or was too scared or just didn't love her, or at least didn't love her enough. Shit, what if it was all a lie? What if Naomi just felt sorry for her, or she felt pressured into it, or Emily smothered her or-
"She cheated." She chokes out. "With...with Sophia."
"The dead girl?"
She nods, slowly, pitiful.
Cook sighs, shakes his head in disbelief and sympathy. "'m sorry Ems. Naomi's a twat, right? Come on. I've got some pills, some spliff, some vodka. You'll feel better in no time."
In no time, Emily feels...hazy. They took some pills with the vodka and Cook's smoking a joint that he holds to Emily's lips every now and then, because her arms feel too heavy and she's uncoordinated from the alcohol. She stopped crying a while ago, but her eyes are red and sore. She kept rubbing at them, until the effort of movement was beyond her. She's sprawled on the bed. She's vaguely worried about cum stains. Mostly she's not thinking about anything. Mostly Cook was right and his methods have worked.
In the morning, it'll all come back and it'll be worse, because she'll be tired and hung over and she'll have to actually see Naomi, at school and with their friends. She'll have to deal with this. They'll have to talk. She doesn't know what's left to say. Naomi lied and cheated and lied some more.
"Broke m' heart." She mumbles, slurring.
"Nah. Can't let it get to you. They're just...girls. Fucking girls. Fuck Naomi!"
"I did."
Cook laughs. "Glad one of us did." He takes a drag on the cigarette, leans over to blow smoke in her face and overbalances, falling to land next to her on the bed. She giggles and he pretends to be offended then pulls a face when she cuddles up next to him.
His chest's bare under her cheek, though she doesn't remember him taking his shirt off. His breathing is slow and steady, and he's warm, and she's drunk. The combination's enough to have her drifting off to sleep.
"What's it like?" Cook asks suddenly, startling her awake. She thinks about sitting up so she can see him, but he has his arm around her waist and she's too comfortable to bother.
"What?"
"Sex with...you know, when..." Then he sighs. "Ah, fuck. Never mind. Go to sleep Ems."
Puzzling over this keeps her awake a little longer. What did he want to ask her, before he got too awkward and embarrassed? That had been embarrassment, she's fairly sure, but she didn't think anything embarrassed Cook. He's Cook. He's hardly shy. But surely even he's not crass enough to ask outright for details of their sex life? She wants to remember this in the morning. She wants to ask him what he means, what's so important that he's scared to say it.
She falls asleep to the sound of his snoring. She's so glad she's not alone that she thinks it's endearing.