On Knots and Unravelling - Chapter Eight

Apr 21, 2011 19:18


For author's notes and thank you's, see chapter one

(I'm without internet for a few days starting tomorrow, so I thought I'd pop another chapter up before I left. It's a bit shorter, but hopefully it'll tide you over!)


Chapter Eight

She tries. She tries really fucking hard. But at the moment it is impossible for Naomi to prise Katie off Cook. And, you know, she’s delighted and all, but it’s difficult enough to casually weave ‘so hypothetically, yeah, if I happened to fancy the pants off your sister...’ into the conversation without Cook there, let alone with him.

Knowing that Cook would do nothing but stamp his approval really hard all over the concept before dragging Emily over and suggesting an immediate demonstration does nothing for her mood.

Another thing entirely upsetting Naomi’s balance is Emily’s complete poker face when they’re around each other. It’s been another week, and Naomi thinks she might be losing her mind. But Emily is acting exactly the same. The three of them walk in together, and Katie stands in the middle prattling on about Cook, or coursework, or this new top she’s thinking about buying online, and Emily is unblinking. Unflinching. Naomi can’t speak, and Emily’s all ‘come on guys, we’ll be late again’ like there is still air around and the edges of Bristol aren’t vibrating slightly.

But no, Emily’s giving her nothing. They still sit next to each other in Politics, and Naomi spends the whole lesson watching Emily’s hand, watching how her fingers grip the pen. Or wanting to touch the frayed edge of Emily’s green jumper, where it slides across the table at her wrist.

And at the end of the lesson Emily just smiles and wanders off, doesn’t wait for her, just strolls off with Sophia like there is nothing to chat about, nothing they could possibly need to say to each other.

Twice, two nights in a row, she tells her to pull herself together. And then her fingers creep lower, gradually, and this wasn’t what she meant, exactly, but it does turn out to relieve the pressure to a certain extent.

Afterward, she finds herself staring at the wall, staring at the list, that’s illuminated softly by the glow of the street lamps outside.

Figure out if Emily actually ‘like’ likes me.

She rolls over, re-reads the texts again. It’s not that she’d saved them, just not deleted them. It’s entirely different.

Emily’s probably (almost certainly) gay, or at least a bit. Emily used to think she was a twat. Emily no longer thinks she is a twat. Emily definitely kissed her back that time. Emily didn’t freak out when Naomi turned up outside her house. Effy thinks there’s something going on.

She can’t have mis-read this, can she?

--

Things start into fall into place a couple of days before the Easter break.

Exam stress has started cranking up, and almost every teacher barring the completely barking mad English Lit one is harping on about the AS exams coming up, with the added subtext that to fail would mean the end of all their hopes and dreams. Consequently attendance has risen sharply, and Naomi feels a mild stab of hate for the wankers who keep leaving their textbooks all over the sodding place.

It’s crowded in the common room, but not enough to legitimise the way Katie practically sits on top of her on the sofa, squashes into her space so blatantly Naomi can’t help grumbling in annoyance.

‘Ok, ow, you lump. I’m not Cook, idiot, get off.’

Katie removes the newspaper from her hands, and taps her over the head with it by way of a conversation starter.

‘Nai-kins. Need a favour, ok? Tiny one. Cos you love me.’

Naomi tries to wiggle away from her, and ends up with Katie’s arm wrapped around her neck too. She sighs, hoping to convey that her day has gone dramatically downhill.

‘Kate. Seriously. You are not Cook either, stop fucking calling me Nai-kins. It makes no sense.’

This earns her a harder smack on the head with the paper, and Naomi relents, stops trying to escape. Katie smiles at her like she’s just done a trick.

‘Whatever, bitchtits. I’m in an exceptionally good mood, so haters to the left, thanks much. We’re going out tonight, we will not be coming back. Cook’s booked us into the Travelodge.’

Naomi mimes vomiting into Katie’s lap, and Katie flicks her ear in return.

‘Ow!’

‘Shush. So, I know you’re deeply jealous yeah, which is why I’m here to tell you I’ll never leave you, even if Cook surprises me and the Travelodge turns out to be in the Maldives. Unlikely, but whatever. Don’t worry.’

Naomi takes a moment to consider whether all the Cook snogging has addled Katie’s brain, but finds herself smiling unwillingly.

‘I’m crying inside, really.’

Katie nods sagely, like this was to be expected, and Naomi finds herself smirking all over again. Katie flaps a hand, continues, ‘Anyway, we plan to be ill tomorrow, so we’ll miss some lessons. Mind getting some English notes for me? And, maybe, cover for me if Mum asks? I’ve said I’m staying at yours.’

Naomi nods, because obviously. She’d have been offended if Katie had used any other excuse really. Katie pats her on the head once, and attempts to wriggle herself upright again, mainly using Naomi as leverage.

‘Cheers, Nae. We’re heading off straight after, so I’ll see you over the hols, okay?’

Naomi nods again, waves a farewell with her retrieved paper. She waits until Katie’s half way across the common room before calling after her.

‘Have fun, ok? Remember to pack spare knickers.’

Katie pivots and flips her off, but she’s grinning as she does so.

--

She’s just unchaining her bike to ride home when Effy appears at her side, wordless once again, and just waits there, looking at her. Naomi pauses when she sees her, and takes a moment to just stand in the sunshine, looking over Effy’s shoulder at the outline of the college against the sky. She finds herself biting her lip again, and a certain tide of premonition starts swelling underneath everything.

‘Yes?’

‘Me and Katie are friends now, you know?’

It’s such a blatant lie Naomi can’t help but laugh. ‘What? No you aren’t.’

Effy shrugs, eyes fixed elsewhere.

‘Right. We aren’t. But she doesn’t hate me anymore. She’s too busy with Cook for that. Which means there’s nothing wrong with you sharing a fag with me, is there?’

Naomi feels her mouth twisting unwilling, as if conceding that this might be the case, before making a show of checking the time. Effy carefully hands her a cigarette, and starts walking off.

‘Come on then. It’s only me. And Panda. And Freddie. And JJ, and Sophia. Oh, and Emily.’

Effy stops and turns, eyebrows raised.

‘You know Emily, right?’

Naomi’s caught, squinting in the sunshine, because usually her conscience can figure out the rights and wrongs of any situation, even if she doesn’t always follow it. But this time she’s got no idea. Like, would it be wrong? To just have a fag? And besides, she thinks, as Effy walks off again, what’s the worst that could happen?

--

Certainly not this, she decides. She hadn’t planned this.

Sophia’s leaning on the wall next to her, doing something quite peculiar with a number of post-it notes and a pencil. Naomi’s got a horrible feeling Sophia’s drawing each of them, but whatever, she doesn’t need to be witness to it, thanks. She takes another drag of the fag and watches Emily instead.

Naomi’s not sure whether she’s always been this obvious, but right now she doesn’t care, quite likes the idea of Emily noticing she hasn’t looked at anyone else since she got here, just to see how Emily would react.

Emily doesn’t seem to notice though, just keeps sitting on the wall with Freddie, inspecting the back of his skateboard carefully. So Naomi keeps watching her, and doesn’t even care that she can tell Effy is watching her with barely concealed amusement in turn.

Sophia coughs once, and taps her on the shoulder with her pencil.

‘Um, excuse me? Hi. You’re in my light. Also, I guess we can be friends again. I wouldn’t want things to be awkward.’

Seriously? Again? Naomi thinks about enquiring what planet Sophia’s beamed from, but decides against it, just flicks her fag butt away and murmurs sorry, before levering herself up off the wall.

‘Guys, I’m going to head off. Got coursework. Thanks, I’ll see you, yeah?’

JJ waves his approval, but Effy looks away, seemingly annoyed about something. Naomi scuffs at the ground with her shoe for a moment, but can’t legitimately stretch it out any longer, so picks up her bag reluctantly, traipses off in the direction of her bike.

--

She’s wheeled it halfway up Queens Street before Emily catches up with her. She staggers to a stop next to Naomi, and the flush on her cheeks makes it obvious she’s been running.

Naomi grins, suddenly elated.

‘In a rush?’

Emily pauses and readjusts her skirt, before running a hand through her hair.

‘Umm, yeah. Lucky you’d decided to wheel your bike for no reason, or I’d never have caught you.’

Oh, right. Naomi declares it a draw in her head, and smiles.

‘Come , then.’

--

It doesn’t nearly take long enough to walk to Emily’s, and it doesn’t help that Naomi’s forgotten how to talk.

Emily’s quiet too, and this still isn’t how Naomi had imagined it.

When they reach her door Emily sighs abruptly.

‘I’m guessing you won’t be telling Katie about us walking back together?’

Naomi looks around for something to rest her bike on, but that turns out to be a bad idea because now she has to decide what to do with her hands.

‘Um, well. I wouldn’t want to interrupt whatever her and Cook are up to, really...’

Emily grimaces momentarily and then laughs, and Naomi wants to kiss her, just completely fall into her and never get up. Instead she stands there and inspects her finger nails.

The key sticks in the lock a bit, and Emily has to work to get the door open, but eventually it’s there, and Naomi’s confronted with their hallway carpet. Emily hesitates.

‘Um. You could come in, if you wanted? Mum’s been trying to bake again, and we need to finish the fairy cakes before she gets offended.’

It’d be easy, wouldn’t it? To walk in, and share a cup of tea, and to maybe sit slightly too close to each other on the couch whilst watching Come Dine With Me, and accidentally mention she’s can’t stop thinking about Emily, and to see what happens.

Katie’s not going to deal well with this. Naomi’s used to excusing Katie’s faults, because no one is perfect, but she knows that her doing anything with Katie’s sister is not going to end well. So that’s what she needs to focus on. Katie’s sister is standing in front of her, no one else. And that’s never going to change.

This translates into her shrugging and fumbling for her bike.

‘I can’t.’

Emily’s too painful to look at, but when she steps closer something shifts, and Naomi touches her arm, until her hand takes over and slides down to Emily’s wrist, before interlocking their fingers.

Naomi stares at their hands for as long as she dares, before pulling away abruptly.

‘I can’t.’

--

Her mum informs her that she’s a miserable twat over jacket potatoes. Naomi juts her chin out but says nothing, dumping another load of sour cream on her dinner.

‘Whatever, mum. Stressed about exams, I guess.’

Gina tuts, and motions for the grated cheese, which Naomi slides over with the end of her knife. Gina applies it liberally to her salad, before continuing.

‘Nonsense, your holidays start after tomorrow. You have plenty of time. So what is it?’

Naomi really doesn’t want to talk about this, and bites the inside of her cheek to stop tears welling up.

‘Fuckssake mum, leave it will you?’

Gina sighs and returns to her meal. Naomi does the same, hacking through the tough jacket skin with sudden force.

When Naomi is tipping her plate into the half full sink Gina pipes up again.

‘If you ever need to talk darling, you know where I am.’

Fucking hell, what was it with parents thinking that just because they have the genetic ability to create a child it means they are suddenly qualified as counsellors? Naomi makes sure she slams her bedroom door extra hard, so her mum can’t miss the message.

--

Her phone vibrates an hour or so later. Naomi clutches for it so quickly she almost falls off the bed.

It’s Effy.

Most disappointing, earlier. I was expecting some romance to watch.

Naomi throws the phone at the wall so hard the casing cracks, and the battery falls out. And then the tears come.

--

Later, there’s a knock on her door.

Fucking mothers.

Naomi summons her gruffest fuck off! and hurls it at the door. Which is why when it opens anyway she can’t quite believe it, and stands to commit murder.

It’s Emily. Naomi feels her legs wobble, and sits down on her bed again, to save her the indignity of falling over, or something equally embarrassing.

Emily’s holding a Politics textbook, and it’s an alibi that will only work once on her mum, she senses.

There’s no greeting, Emily just closes the door and puts the book down on her table, shrugs simply.

‘Your mum let me in. I’ve never been in your room before. It’s nice.’

Emily’s in her room. Emily’s in her room. Naomi can feel her throat start to tighten up, shrugs instead of speaking, before staring at Emily some more.

She’s wearing a massive jumper, and Naomi finds herself wondering whether Emily brought a coat, whether she got cold on the way over. Emily speaks again.

‘I don’t want to hurt Katie either, ok?’

Jesus. All this way over for a rejection. Naomi pouts unhappily, and tries to consider whether she’d been happier not knowing. She still doesn’t trust her voice, so nods once and turns her head away. Her eyes find a photo of her and Katie that she’d stuck on the wall at the start of the year. It was taken on the day they’d got their GCSE results, and Katie had her arm around her and was laughing, whilst Naomi rolled her eyes and looked young and awkward. Right now she feels so much older.

Emily’s shampoo smells entirely different to Katie’s, to anyone else’s, and here Naomi has to close her eyes, or she’ll start crying again, because this should be different.

She waits.

Eventually, very quietly, Emily speaks, says something so weird Naomi almost thinks she’s misheard.

‘You ever been in JJ’s room, Nae?’

What? It makes no sense, and Naomi’s eyes jolt open.

Emily’s looking at a different part of her wall, where shitshitshit she’s left the list stuck up.

Figure out if Emily actually ‘like’ likes me.

Emily doesn’t seem to be able to take her eyes off it, and continues to be baffling.

‘You have more in common than I’d guessed.’

Fuckingfuckingfuckingfuckingfuckingfuckingfuck. Naomi feels her cheeks start to burn, and tries to stand again, when Emily is moving over to her, close to her, and Naomi’s got fistfuls of Emily’s jumper, and Emily’s kissing her, Emily’s kissing her.

Emily’s hands are still cold from outside, and the cool on her neck makes Naomi shiver. It’s quiet, it’s so quiet, Naomi had always imagined there’d be explosions, but there’s no noise except their breathing, and the taste of Emily’s lips is fanfare enough. Then something tilts (possibly the world) and Emily’s mouth is open, and it’s less chaste, this.

Naomi strains upwards, not knowing where she wants to go, but knowing they’re not close enough, not with Emily standing over her and Naomi perched on the edge of the bed. Emily seems to know exactly how to move though, because she sighs and breaks the kiss almost absent-mindedly, pushes some of her hair out of her eyes, and presses forward, placing one knee on either side of Naomi’s legs, until she’s sitting on top of Naomi, before kissing her again, and oh god.

Reality, Naomi thinks. This is what Emily really tastes like, this is what she really feels like, this is really happening. Emily’s hands are in her hair now, and Naomi’s running out of oxygen despite breathing hard. She’s got her hands around Emily’s waist now, hanging on.

‘Fuck,’ Emily breathes and blinks quickly before kissing her again, like Naomi might change her mind, and Naomi can feel this everywhere now, senses all the blood starting to flow to the pit of her stomach. Emily presses into her, and despite the thick jumper Naomi can feel the contours of her body, and smoothes her hands underneath the rough material, presses her palms flat at the base of Emily’s back, where cotton meets skin.

Emily moans, then, and Naomi matches half a second later, because something is about to give, and it might be her heart. The kiss changes, becomes an open mouthed exchange of something that feels like too much, too much for her room to contain, until Emily changes tack and moves down to her neck.

She’s gasping now, she knows it, and some small part of her mind tries to remind her that her mum is downstairs, and Katie’s in a Travelodge, and this shouldn’t feel like this, and if she wants to stop it needs to be about here, somewhere.

She doesn’t want to, can’t, and then Emily shifts again, before pressing even closer, and fuck Naomi’s lost, can’t even begin to consider where her mind’s gone, because Emily’s there again, and her hands are on Naomi’s face and it is the most astonishing thing she’s ever felt. Emily’s jumper comes tugging upwards seconds later, and Naomi has to remind herself that it’s her hands that are doing it, it’s her hands that are brushing Emily’s hair flat after the jumper’s fallen to the floor.

God, she’s beautiful. Emily stills for a second, and smiles shyly, and Naomi had never considered having a conversation with someone pressed this close to her before.

She does though. ‘Say something.’

It sounds like a cliché the second it’s out of her mouth, but there it is. Emily finds her hand, and brings it up to her lips, kisses Naomi’s unresisting palm, and then her fingertips. Naomi’s completely breathless. After a moment Emily frowns slightly, and looks down at her.

‘I think maybe, saying nothing, might be better here.’

It’s there, they’re all there, all the reasons why they shouldn’t, but Naomi decides she doesn’t care, right now, and reaches forward to kiss Emily again.

Fuck it, she thinks, as her hands slide underneath Emily’s top.

Fuck it, as Emily reaches down, and pulls off Naomi’s t-shirt.

Fuck it, as Naomi moves back on the bed and Emily follows, before Naomi rolls, and stretches on top of her, and Emily moans her name for the first time.

Fuck it, as they press, and shift.

Fuck it.

God.
It’s everything.

Chapter Nine

on knots and unravelling

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