Miles and Miles (1/2)
Title: Miles and Miles
Pairing: Naomi/Emily, Cook/Effy/Freddie
Rating: R for language
Summary: AU Naomi and Emily’s final year of University
Disclaimer: Not my universe, not my characters. They just fall in love and I write about it.
I know where you hide
alone in your car.
Know all of the things
that make you who you are.
- Won’t Go Home Without You by Maroon 5
Cook calls it ‘greenlighting’: Allowing the flashy ones the green light to pass by and slowing, stopping, spouting out some constructive criticism at the ones not so impressive. One relatively nervous looking bloke walks by in a tight blue polo, coifed blonde hair and a handful of heavy chemistry books.
“Oy,” Cook calls at him and the student stops. Freddie’s laughing already. “Have you got the time?” The boy’s rearranging the books in his hands to get to his wrist when Cook blows some smoke in his face, causing him to cough, lose his balance, and Freddie makes a wailing sound as the books come tumbling out of his hands. The all laugh, even Naomi, smirking and chuckling from behind her hat. Cook comes back up the stairs, sits down to smoke and passes his spliff to Freddie. Only Effy takes the time to pick one of the books up for the guy, handing it to him with a smile.
“Thanks,” he mumbles, his head down, his cheeks and ears bright red. He walks off and Effy shares a smile with Naomi.
“You’re always the nice one,” Naomi says, shaking her head, staring at the sun.
Effy sits down besides Freddie, who puts his arm around her, passing her Cook’s spliff.
It passes the time, all this greenlighting, and though it isn’t the most productive thing they could be doing, Naomi prefers it to anything else spectacularly more sociable or locking herself in the library again. It was the start of another school year and the new, young fresh meat from college would be entering university thinking they could rule it anyway. Or worse, think they had any right to sit on their steps. No, these steps that entered the abandoned old mess hall were theirs, and there was no way Cook or Freddie were ready to let others think they had any right to it. And so they began greenlighting.
“Keep walking, mate,” Freddie says, shaking his head menacingly when a couple walk by, hand in hand, moving to sit on the lower steps. The girl scoffs.
“It’s a free country,” she says.
“Not here it isn’t,” Naomi shakes her head.
“What the fuck?” she exclaims, turning to her boyfriend, who shakes his head. ‘Whatever,’ he says to her, pulling her away. That’s what Naomi likes about university sometimes. People. They’re grown up. Not like in middle school or college when fights would break out over tiny disagreements. Not when people had courses to attend, lectures to take notes at. People at university let things go. They allow others to step on them, for productivity’s sake. The couple walks off and Freddie and Cook high five one another.
“Oh,” Cook says suddenly, as two girls walk by, ignoring the steps completely. One brunette, well-endowed, the other redhead, chattering animatedly. “Welcome to Lancaster University, ladies,” he says loudly, making a grand gesture with his arms and grinning wickedly.
They pause.
“Thanks,” the redhead says uncertainly, pulling her friend away.
“Aw, don’t go!” Cook calls after them but they only pick up their pace.
“You wanker, you’ve scared them off,” Freddie chuckles as Effy repositions herself on him, resting her cheek on his chest. He kisses her forehead.
“Ah, they love me, they just couldn’t handle it,” Cook smirks, still watching them.
“Clearly,” Naomi laughs, finishing her smoke. She crumples it on the cement and tosses it in the garbage. She swings her bag over her shoulder and tightens the strap. “World Leaders in ten minutes,” she says, checking her watch, and then turning to Cook. “You coming? First class and all.”
Cook shrugs, inhaling the fresh fall air for a moment. He isn’t all that enthralled with political science courses, or school at all, and only registered for it to please Naomi and to have some more time with her. He shakes a new smoke out of a box in his pants. “Nah,” he decides, lighting it, “You go on, take some notes for me, eh?”
“Yeah, all the notes I write are for you,” Naomi smirks, heading down the stairs. “See you,” she calls to Freddie and Effy still lying on the steps, limbs tangled, sharing a spliff, their exhales of silvery white haze mushing together.
-
She gets a seat near the front, just to see how the professor is.
He’s a solid wanker, the moment he walks in, smirking at the class and heading to his desk. He mumbles something about how many women there are under his breath, thinking they can’t hear. But Naomi can. Solid fucking wanker. He’s a middle aged, argyle sweater-wearing, perfectly combed professional dark brown haired misogynist.
“Welcome to Poli Sci 488 World Leaders,” he starts the class, “I’m Professor Sutton. Let’s get started.”
Halfway through the lecture, Naomi’s growing bored already. The man is optimistic about the world, steadfast in his belief that Obama will save us all. She’s rolling her eyes for probably the fifth time when he stops, midway, sighing and turning to her.
“Is there something you’d like to share with us, Miss?” he asks. The class is dead silent and Naomi sits up straighter in her chair. No professor stops the class, stops their lecture, to acknowledge a student like this. “You’ve been rolling your eyes ever since class started, Miss. Say your piece and be done with it, otherwise get out or sit at the back,” he says, serious as an elderly grandfather all of a sudden, “It’s distracting.” There’s murmuring in the class, the annoying but that sounds like a bunch of bees buzzing around your head, contemplating your fate, and if there’s one thing Naomi can’t stand, it’s attention.
“It’s Ms,” she says finally, which earns a raised eyebrow from him. “And I was wondering where your females were.”
“Excuse me?”
“The females. Benazir Bhutto. Indira Gandhi. Angela Merkel. Your course is called World Leaders and yet you don’t mention any women at all. I was just wondering when you were going to stop being a self-righteous, contradictory misogynist.”
That shuts everyone up, and Naomi’s smirking to herself already. Sutton just stares at her, perhaps taking in what she’s said, perhaps discouraged that he’s about to teach yet another course with one of these overly proud feminists again. Whatever streams through his mind, he takes a breath and looks down at his material once more, and Naomi swallows. The silence is deafening as everyone in the class shifts uncomfortably. Sutton looks back up at her and slowly smirks. “Perhaps this is the time to distribute the course outline.” He takes out his large stack of papers, calls his teacher’s assistant over to distribute them out. As they’re being handed out, the chatter picks up awkwardly quickly as everyone rushes to fill the uncomfortable silence. Naomi is handed the sheet, and closes her mouth as she reads eight out of the eleven weeks have been dedicated to one or more female world leaders.
“You should learn to control your temper, Ms,” he tells her in a low voice as she reads, “And learn to have some faith in others.”
-
“He’s a fucking wanker,” Cook declares, and Naomi shushes him immediately.
“Whatever, he’s probably right,” Naomi says, finding Section G in the library, heading in to retrieve some books for the course.
“He’s not right just ‘cuz he’s a professor, yeah?” Cook says just as loud as before, earning a shush from a seated librarian. “And he should learn to show some respect for you, too,” he whispers.
Naomi finds the book and turns to Cook, sighing. “Maybe you had to be there.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Cook says, turning his head away from her, looking out the window. He frowns a bit and turns back to Naomi. “You coming to the steps? Do some of this reading outside in the fresh air?” he pokes at her books and she pulls them away from him.
“No,” she says firmly, “You know I always study in the library, this year’ll be no different, Cook.” She’s heads out to the study area, empty of its students already, and sits herself down at a table, turning the reading lamp on and dropping her bag to her feet.
“Naomikins,” he says, leaning on the table and whispering into her ear with a grin, “It’s Friday, yeah? It’s Friday night and the only people here are you and the librarians.” He points to the aging women in the distance, carefully tagging books and placing them on carts to return. “What does that tell you? That you need to get out more, yeah? That you need to spend some more time getting cock than being cooped up in here, otherwise you’ll end up just like them.”
“Not listening,” Naomi mutters, taking out a highlighter and flipping to chapter two.
“Chasing fanny, then,” Cook rolls his eyes, “Sex is sex.”
“Still not listening.”
“More fanny for me, then.”
“Really not listening.”
He gives up.
She knows it’s late, and it always is when she gets there, but that’s the best part of this particular library, and the best part of studying on a Friday night. No one is there, and she can lie back, be in silence, and concentrate so much better. In the dying sunlight and the slow chill of the evening, she can make it through eight books before the closing at two in the morning and head home for a good night’s sleep. Cook and Freddie, they might be in school for fun, but she’s there to make the best of it. And Effy..well, she figures, who knows what Effy wants.
It’s later in the night, maybe eleven or midnight, Naomi takes off her watch to lose track of time, when everyone’s really gone, and she moves onto one of the couches to lie down. Maybe she dozes off or gets too enthralled in the textbook, but she doesn’t hear the redhead approach until she’s right in front of her.
“Excuse me.”
Naomi shakes, violently.
“Sorry,” the girl laughs. It’s a deep one. Low and unashamed. She points to Naomi’s pile of books. “You’ve got the last copy of Folden’s LKS and I noticed you weren’t reading it. Could I borrow it?”
Naomi puts her textbook down and squints. “I know you.” The same girl from the morning.
The girl blinks, and breathes deeply, relaxing into her stance. She lowers her hand and tucks some hair behind her ear. “You’re in my class,” she says, “World Leaders? I heard you speak today.”
Naomi smiles and bites her lower lip, almost embarrassed. She looks away. “Yeah.”
“It was impressive,” the girl says conversationally, still eyeing the Folden novel, “Bit rude. But...it woke us up so I don’t think anyone will hate you for it.”
Naomi laughs. “I don’t care if anyone hates me.”
The girl pauses and stares, wanting to say something but unable to think of how to word it. She bites her lip and turns her head away, clearing her throat. “Well,” she says, arching an eyebrow, and turning her head back to the pile. “Could I borrow it? I’ll read it here.”
“Yeah,” Naomi says, turning back to her textbook and settling back against the sofa. She hears the girl take the book from under some heavier ones and settle down on the sofa opposite hers.
When she’s done, she thanks her curtly and puts the book on top of her pile. Leaves.
-
“Cook tells me you need some more excitement in your life,” Freddie says as they walk down the street to his place.
“Cook thinks I need a lot of things,” Naomi shrugs.
Freddie laughs into his spliff. “He seems unusually self-destructive lately. Something on his mind?”
“Dunno,” Naomi waves Effy over from across the street. The girl waves back, looks both ways, and saunters across the street. Effy’s an unusual puzzle. Doesn’t talk much. Just sort of floats around, hangs around them like this voiceless angel of relaxation and comfort. “Everything alright with Effy?” Naomi asks, just because she thinks she should.
“Yeah,” Freddie responds absently, kissing her as she comes over.
-
“You ought to come to this party next weekend, Naomi,” Cook says, lounging on the steps and stretching his arms, his pink polo riding up his stomach. He yawns obnoxiously loudly, scratching a warm spot on his neck. “It’ll be a great one.”
“We’ll see how much work I’ve got,” Naomi says, closing up her jacket. It’s gotten colder these past couple of weeks, and as much fun as a Halloween themed party sounds, she’d rather spend it warmly indoors finishing up some last minute term papers.
“What I don’t understand,” a seated Freddie says, shifting closer to Effy as a cool gust of wind blows past them, “Is why she’s always got work, and you’re always out.” He grins. “You two are in the same classes, Cook.”
Cook shakes his head gleefully. “Fuck school, man, it only gets you down!” He jumps up the steps and back down again. “We all just want to party anyway! Party Party Party!” He turns to the rest of the school grounds and shouts, “Party next Saturday at my place! Bring your booze, bring your girls, bring the party! Party! Party!”
Naomi squints from the volume of it all, and shares a laugh with Effy as they watch him.
“Excuse me.”
She glances down. The same redheaded girl from the library stands there at the base of the steps, her arms folded, wearing a frown.
“Hello there,” Cook says coyly, pulling his shirt down, straightening his hair with his fingers. He takes his spliff from his mouth and puts it behind his ear, jumps down to the girl’s level.
She rolls her eyes, casually, so quickly Naomi’s certain Cook didn’t catch it. She does. She stifles a laugh and the girl’s eyes shoot up to hers at the sound, and Naomi sees them right this time: Not in the fading dim lights of the library, not in the moonlight, but this time in the sun. They are wide and bold and a brilliant deep, dark brown that shoots straight up the steps and straight into Naomi.
She shuffles uncomfortably and turns her head away, absently glancing at Effy who’s looking at them with a curved smile.
“I’m Cook,” Cook winks with a confident smile, reaching for her hand.
The girl’s arms stay folded. “Everyone knows who you are,” she says, the disapproval clear in her voice.
“Reputation proceeding me, yeah?” Cook smiles, checking the girl over quite obviously with his eyes.
She folds her arms harder, scrunching at him. “It’s precede.”
“What?” he asks, his concentration breaking.
“Reputations,” she says, her eyes narrowing, “They precede you.”
Naomi can’t help but laugh, and the girl looks up at her again. “I like her,” Cook says with a laugh as their eyes connect. Another chuckle and the girl breaks eye contact, back at Cook. “Proceed, precede, whatever, girlie,” he grins, “You pro coming to my party next Saturday?” He looks her over again.
She stares at him like he’s a complete idiot, her mouth even opening in disgust. And then, like a moment straight from telly, her eyesight moves up from him to Naomi, almost expectantly. As though she’s waiting. Waiting for something, or maybe someone. Naomi breath catches.
Cook follows her eye of vision, then back at the girl. “She’ll be there,” he says with a grin, wiggling his thumb at Naomi.
“Cook, shut the fuck up.".
“She will,” he says with another laugh. “Her name’s Naomi.”
Naomi feels something bubble up inside of her. Jealousy. Anger, maybe. As though Cook’s stolen something that was hers. Her name, her identity, her power over when she could reveal her name. Now her introduction is gone, and she doesn’t even know the girl’s name. She feels powerless, stripped, placed on display. Most especially placed on display, especially how at the girl’s looking at her, like she can see straight through her to the cement stairs.
“I’m Emily Fitch,” the girl says.
Naomi shakes her head and sighs as she flicks the stub of her cigarette out at the girl. It flies down the staircase and lands on the dirt road, narrowly missing the redhead. “I don’t care.”
Cook laughs at this, loudly, like an animal, and when Naomi turns her head back down, the girl is gone and Cook’s walking back up the steps to her.
-
“You,” Sutton says to her that Thursday in class, after everyone’s filing out of the course. “Stay for a minute?”
As if she had any real choice after he says that, of course. She packs her bag and sits patiently as everyone walks out and he cleans up his lecture notes. When the final student is out, he leans across the desk to stare at her. “What’s your name?”
She grinds her teeth. “Naomi Campbell.”
He’s nodding as though he’d known it already and going through his papers. “I’ve got you here on my list of graduates. You’ll be heading out this year. Is that right?”
She desperately wants a cig, and the man’s lecture was long enough without a question and answer period. “Yeah.”
“And what’re you planning on doing after school?”
“Probably graduate studies.”
He seems genuinely interested. “Is that so? Where?”
Probably Goldsmith, but he doesn’t need to know that. So instead she sighs. “What does it matter?”
He raises an eyebrow to this and sits back down in his chair. “Well it matters, Naomi. You’ve got a passion for public speaking.”
“No I haven’t.”
“You haven’t?”
“No.”
He pauses, looking at her with confusion and concern. She breaks the eye contact, looking away, looking around the room, scrunching up her nose at a particularly odd smell that seems to develop in the room right when people leave. “Are we done?” she asks.
Sutton opens his mouth to say something else but closes it with a quick sigh, rearranging some papers on his desk. “Yes. That’ll be all. Thank you.”
-
It’s a Sunday night when she’s still in the library, yawning over the photocopy machine when it breaks. She manages to get her card out, but mutters under her breath as she observes her half photocopied paper. She flips through the book and there’s still dozens of pages left. She calls Freddie and Cook on their cells but neither pick up so she settles with a text to Effy.
stuck in library. Don’t wait up.
The reply is almost instant.
Cook says ur lying+get ur arse over here.
She smirks at this and leans against the machine, letting the moon light the pad of her cell.
Not lying. Photocopy machine broken. Gun have 2 finish readings old fashioned way.
fred says shag a librarian 2 get a spare key to the secret photocopy machine (wtf?)
wtfuckery lol i don’t actually want to shag every girl i see
“Hey.”
Naomi jostles against the machine and nearly drops her cell. She clutches her chest dramatically. “Shit.”
“Sorry,” Emily says, her face showing everything but it. She’s holding a book in her hands, her fingers tagging a specific page. “If you’re done texting, I’d like to use the copier.”
Naomi snaps her cell shut and moves off it.
Emily walks over, takes Naomi’s book off and places her own inside. She inserts a printing card and press print. Nothing. She presses print again. Again. She presses the return button and her card remains inside the machine.
“Oh by the way,” Naomi says offhandedly, tilting her head to the side, “it’s broken.”
Emily sighs a loud one, closing her eyes momentarily. “Thank you,” she says delicately. Naomi notices just how...short she is. Standing so close to her, she probably reaches the base of her nose, barely matching her forehead if she stood on tippy toes. There’s something very tiny about the girl, but not so miniscule when she turns to her, her eyes brighter than before to match her striking red hair. “And I suppose you couldn’t have told me that before, could you?”
Naomi shrugs. “You didn’t ask.”
Emily’s eyes narrow. They stare at one another for a moment, Naomi obnoxious, Emily irritated. Slowly, Emily opens the machine and takes her book out. She takes a breath, and Naomi thinks, for a second, she’s about to monologue. “Fuck you,” she says resolutely, turning around and walking off to get some help, her steps echoing in the library, her pace picking up at the sound of Naomi’s chuckle.
A vibration in her pocket lets her know Effy’s responded to her text and Naomi picks it up, still amused at Emily’s reaction.
The redhead emily iz here. Really hot.
Naomi raises an eyebrow and looks down the shelves, still gazing at Emily’s strut. The girl was attractive, come to think of it. That temper of hers did nothing but help, too.
Emilys here @ the library, dunno who u see.
She closes her phone and picks up her book, packing it into her bag filled with the others. As she makes her way over to the couch, she hears the photocopy machine being opened.
The next hours go by slowly, and the books pile over one another, Naomi needs to break out a new notebook for Ethics of Violence and a new highlighter for International Development 3. She’s halfway through the last chapter of Delhin’s textbook when she hears a frustrated huff from above. And somehow she knows. If anything, fifteen years from now, she will tell her children she knows that sound. “Yes, Emily Fitch?” she asks, already smiling, keeping her eyesight on the book.
“Look at me.”
Naomi puts her book down and up at Emily with a smile. “What is it?”
Emily points to Naomi’s bag. “You have Cohen’s book on graphic violence in the media.”
Naomi glances down at the dark red novel. “Yes, it appears I do.”
Emily flips some hair out of her eyes and puts her hands on her hips. Naomi tries to not notice her hips. “In fact you have every book for the course Ethics of Violence checked out.”
Naomi arches an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“I took the liberty to check your library account, and you have every book for Ethics of Violence checked out, even though you couldn’t possibly read them all in one sitting, and even though you’ve clearly finished with some.”
Naomi puts the book on the couch, a frown on her lips. “You took the liberty of checking my library account?” She feels violated. Analyzed and picked apart. “That’s an invasion of privacy.”
“I work here,” Emily says, flashing her student ID tagged with the library pass.
Naomi settles back down on the couch, still not feeling at ease. “What the fuck,” she says grumpily.
“No one can access those books now, you’ve put us all at a standstill. I can’t read any of these books until you’ve returned them. You didn’t have to do that.”
Naomi shrugs. “You could ask to borrow them.”
“You never talk to anyone, who would approach you?”
Naomi guffaws. “Yeah,” she bites her lip to stop the chuckling, “People are intimidated by me.”
Emily glares. “You think that’s funny?”
“It is a bit.”
“You and your friends,” Emily sneers, “And your obsession with those steps.”
Naomi sits up at this. “Don’t talk about my friends.” Emily stares at her and Naomi’s struck by the girl’s face, her jawline and button nose, the way her eyebrows knit together. She cocks her head to the side. Very attractive, actually.
Emily shakes her head. “You’re a total bitch, you know that? All the time.”
Naomi grins and shakes her head freely. She knows. Everyone tells her, she just doesn’t give a flying fuck. She goes back to her book, in plain sight of Emily, and buries her nose back in. Emily scoffs, is about to say something else, because really, she did in fact come to ask to borrow Cohen’s book. She sighs. “But I’m not scared of you,” she says instead.
Naomi’s eyes rise from the book.
Emily walks off as Naomi turns to look at her. Another vibration in her pocket. She picks it up: a text from Effy.
Discovered: Girl is Emilys twin sis Katie @ York. Cook says way hotter.
Naomi makes a soft ‘ha’ sound that ends up echoing in the halls, causing Emily to whip around suddenly, look at Naomi with her wide wide eyes, then turn back around, shaking her head and continue on her way. Naomi watches her with a softening smile, and the way her hair falls on her shoulders. She texts back.
Not possible.
-
“You should have been there,” Effy says, grabbing a cup from Naomi’s cupboard and pouring some hot water. “They don’t actually sound alike, or dress alike, but they look relatively similar.”
“Yeah, I would think so, being twins and all, Eff,” Naomi replies, handing her a tea bag and dipping one into her own mug. They head into Naomi’s cramped but cozy living room.
“I think Cook liked her,” Effy says, sitting down and cuddling into a tiny ball on the armrest.
“Yeah?” Naomi asks, blowing off the steam and warming her hands around the mug. “That’s good.”
“Yeah,” Effy says absently. They sit for a while, blowing and sipping, listening to the cars and students walking past the window. It wasn’t often that Naomi had guests over, but when she did, it usually resulted in sitting and drinking some sort of substance. Effy was good, she’d discovered, at simply sitting and being at ease. Something about this silence disturbs her, though, and Naomi watches with an unsteady frown at Effy’s shifting jaw.
“That is good, isn’t it?” she asks.
“Yeah,” Effy replies again, sipping.
“Though I can’t picture Cook settling down with one girl,” Naomi tries to make their silence shorter. That was another thing she’d noticed with Effy: If you didn’t talk, sometimes she’d never. It was nice to have conversation, too.
“Emily’s gay.”
Naomi nearly spills some tea on her shirt and re-stabilizes her mug before looking back up at Effy. “Wh-I don’t-H-How do you know?”
Effy stares at the ceiling. “I asked her sister.”
“You what?”
“I asked her sister,” Effy repeats, then brings her eyes back down to Naomi. “Do you know any other way?”
Asking Emily maybe, Naomi thinks, and then blots that out her mind. “Why does it matter?”
Effy shrugs with her mouth and Naomi sighs.
-
After the fifth time she smiles at Emily from across the room in World Leaders which the redhead ignores, she realizes Effy probably knows something she doesn’t.
-
Cook’s successfully set up a trip wire in front of the steps and celebrates with a kiss to Effy’s cheek which she smirks at. Naomi just laughs. “Where’s Freddie?” she asks, and Effy shrugs at this.
The student who trips is perfect, so perfect it’s almost too easy. He’s wearing a blazer and sharp dress shoes and beautiful dark blue hat. He trips up, dropping his bag and really falling to his knees.
“Mate!” Cook calls from the top of the stairs, racing down like a superhero. He helps the guy up to his feet, brushing him off. “You alright?” he’s asking, offering a smoke, a seat, a drink.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” the guy responds, picking up his bag and going on his way.
Cook watches as he disappears around the corner before turning to the girls with a huge grin.
“Show me the money,” Effy calls.
Cook takes the guy’s wallet from his pocket and Effy cheers. Naomi just laughs again. Cook races up the stairs to them, still smiling like a right idiot, flipping through the wallet and ripping the credit and debit cards. He whistles as he moves the flap over to reveal a generous amount of bills. “Ladies, Saturday’s drinks are on me,” he laughs as he pockets the money and tosses the wallet into the garbage.
Effy cheers light-heartedly before lying back down on the steps, slipping her sunglasses back on.
Cook lies down beside her, stretching his arms contently.
As such, Naomi decides she’ll go to the party. She’d done enough studying, and it was only so often Cook would throw a party at his place, seeing as it took him weeks to clean up after every bash. He was known to throw some wild ones, but still clean and relatively safe. Coppers usually only showed, if they did at all, around sunrise, and she always left well before anyway.
She gets there with Effy, having met up with her to do some pre-drinking at her place. When they enter, the place is buzzing with conversation and booze already, and Effy gets lost in the crowd. Or rather walks off into it, finding her own buzz line to Freddie in that calm, cool and collected way she did. Naomi heads for the kitchen, casually passing by a couple going at it on the stairs and another against the fridge. “Scuze me,” she says, and they shift off only for the moment it takes her to open and grab a beer. The guy throws her back up against the door so loudly she yells in enjoyment and Naomi rolls her eyes.
“Naomikins!” Cook yells from the other end of the kitchen, one brunette on each arm.
“Cook,” she grins as she walks up to him, motioning to the girls. “And what are their names?”
“Alicia and Melanie.”
“I’m Melanie.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
The party goes on through the night and Naomi only manages to find Cook, Freddie and Effy at random times during the night. The majority of it she spends dancing in the living room or having drinking contests with fools who actually think they can out drink her in the kitchen.
She’s downed her fifth shot of vodka when the final guy just slams his head down on the table and she wrenches her wrist free from the girl who takes it and waves it as everyone cheers. Wobbling a bit, she heads outside to get some fresh air.
The night is cool, misty and seemingly alive with the music from indoors but as she sits on the street walk and stares up at the night sky, everyone starts calming down, smoothing over into a low, steady boom. Some drunken mumbling behind her and she turns to see Effy and Freddie stumbling out, giggling and grabbing hold of one another. “Goodnight,” Freddie says to her and they walk down the street, stumbling on each other’s toes.
“Goodnight,” Naomi calls to them with a smile. She’s still watching them as a flash of red hair passes by the corner of her eye. Like a hawk, she snaps her head and turns to it. “Emily.”
The redhead stops in her tracks and seems to contemplate turning around before she finally does. She looks great, is all Naomi’s hazy mind can think, she always does.
“Hi,” she says uncertainly.
Naomi taps the empty spot beside her on the street walk.
Emily hesitates again, more obviously with shifting legs and wobbly ankles.
“I don’t bite,” Naomi smirks.
Emily sits, and Naomi feels accomplished. “You don’t like me very much, do you?” she asks with a playful smile, taking a cig out of her pocket and offering one to Emily who declines.
“There are things to like about you, I think,” Emily says as she watches Naomi light up.
“Yeah?” Naomi asks arrogantly, eyes fixated on the moon.
“It’s just a shame you’re such a sarcastic bitch,” Emily says, with this sadness in her voice, and it causes Naomi to turn to look at her. She blows some smoke away from her face.
“You’re pretty blunt, aren’t you,” Naomi remarks, the humour of it all lost to her. It’s all...rather impressive actually.
Emily shrugs, looking back down at her hands, and Naomi is struck, again, at the compact size Emily is, even here on this sidewalk. “I think I see things other people don’t see,” she says, then lifts her head up again and shakes some hair out of her eyes, “In other people.”
Naomi turns away, not quite successfully ignoring the twist in her stomach, inhaling abruptly from the cig. “You see something in me?” she asks, cursing her voice that’s gone quieter.
Emily’s getting up already. “Makes one of us, doesn’t it,” she says, walking back inside the house.
She’s gone by the time Naomi’s realized what she meant and turns around. The girl was attractive, Naomi would give her that, and confident in a way she couldn’t understand. She walks back into the house and finds herself looking for her already. She doesn’t.
-
It starts to get annoying when Emily still won’t smile at her in World Leaders, and her frustration leads to more outbursts in class, interrupting Sutton whenever she can, earning a smirk or a sigh from him depending on the topic. It’s all very productive, she concludes, and chalks the more frequent library visits up to that productivity, too.
“It’s getting ridiculous, yeah?” Cook says one afternoon when Naomi’s getting up again to head to the library. He flicks his smoked out stub of a cigarette onto a nearby walking student and himself behind the concrete when the kid yells out. “Either the librarian is sex on legs or we really need to land you a girlfriend.”
“Could say the same for you,” Naomi smirks.
“I’ve got girls,” Cook says.
“Yeah, but not one special one.”
His smile fades and his grimaces into the sun. “Don’t need a special one. Why have one when you have many?”
Naomi frowns. “Why have many when you can have one?”
Cook shakes his head. “That’s fucked up logic that is,” he says, shaking his finger at her, but he isn’t looking at her. She turns her head to the bottom of the stairs, and Effy’s kissing Freddie goodbye as he heads to class. She’s coming up the stairs and Naomi turns back to Cook.
“I heard about you and Emily’s twin sister, Katie?”
“Yeah, what you say,” Cook mumbles absently as he grins at Effy.
-
“Naomi,” Sutton says to her after class again. “Could you please sit down this time, I’d like to have a word with you.”
They make very awkward small talk about their weekends before Sutton gets down to it. “Listen,” he says, “I’m in need of an assistant for travels next year.”
Travels. Naomi’s head lights up like a fucking lamppost. She would sell her soul for a plane ticket, a fast track path out of England and see the world. She’s listening intently immediately.
“I’ve to make my shortlist of students soon, and I’m looking for some students who’d be interested in international affairs, meeting with people, answering some question alongside me for some interviews.” He pauses. “Whilst I think you’ve got the knowledge and passion for a position like this, your midterm and obvious interest one of the best in the class, I don’t know if you’ve got the tact, Naomi.”
She feels herself sink into her chair.
“I don’t know if you’ve got the chivalry, the professionalism.”
Her world is shrinking, very slowly indeed.
“I think you need a fair amount of growing up to do, Naomi.”
-
“Wanker. Fucking wanker. I knew it from day one,” Cook says, pacing on the steps. “I could get him,” he concludes aloud, nodding his head and shaking his hand already. “I could get him for you, Naoms, get some dirt on him-”
“No, it’s fine, Cook,” Naomi sighs, just sitting at the steps dejected.
“Sit down,” Effy says, tugging on his sleeve. He does. They’re whispering something she can’t hear.
-
It bothers her to no end that she has difficulty studying in the library now. It’s a little past midnight on the Friday night and she’s read fuck all from the textbook, resulting in just sitting and sighing angrily.
“Hey.”
And just like that, the world gets a little brighter. And the speed at which it lights up terrifies and soothes her immediately; she can only sink into the sofa a little bit further. “Hi,” she says, keeping her eyes on her textbook, though she’s stopped reading.
“I was wondering if I could borrow-”
“Take what you want,” Naomi says, turning her head to her.
Emily purses her lips together, eyeing Naomi’s bag. Slowly she gets down and picks up the biggest textbook. “Thanks,” she says, as she walks off to the photocopier.
Naomi watches her, watches as she steps over and flips through the pages, so delicately, so patiently, until she reaches Chapter nine and places it carefully on the machine, pressing print. She watches as Emily patiently flips through every single page, until all thirty pages have been copied. That’s just what she does, Naomi thinks, she flips through the pages, as slowly as need be, and by the end of the day, she knows so much more than you do. Emily takes the stack of papers off the machine and presses them to her cheek, a soft smile developing at the corner of her mouth.
boom
Naomi’s speechless by the time Emily returns, returning the book to Naomi’s bag. She looks at her with a smile. “What is it?” she asks, caressing her hair.
“Nothing,” Naomi says.
Emily’s smile fades.
Naomi turns her eyesight away and back to her book. When she looks up again, Emily’s gone and she breathes a sigh of relief. She flips through her textbook again, attempting to speed read something or tries to remember some key phrases but she can only see red. Red like Emily’s hair, so lovely in the morning and now, even lovelier in the moonlight. She thinks about caressing it, running her fingers through it, smelling it in bed.
She hears the distinct sound of a closing door and bolting of it shut. Her blood goes a little colder and she turns around. The library is large, but there is only one entrance, and those sounds no doubt came from them. “Emily?” she calls out, well aware they must be the only ones left. Her breathing picks up when she hears the footsteps growing closer, and only faster when Emily comes into view, stepping towards her so fiercely she’s like an airplane revving up for takeoff. She’s moving down the aisles, her arms swinging, her hair being blown by the sides, her hips just swaying, swaying towards her. Naomi feels the saliva collect in her mouth and gulps down nervously. They’re alone, and Emily’s locked them in, now strutting towards her with a walk so fierce she’s not sure she can handle it.
But the moment she’s close enough, Emily lands a slap on Naomi’s cheek so loud it matches the clack of her shoes. She sits herself down on the couch opposite Naomi’s as the blonde groans and caresses her cheek in pain. “What the fuck?”
“Do you go out of your way to make other students’ lives completely miserable?” Emily glares.
“What are you talking about?” Naomi asks incredulously. “All I said was-”
“Why do you have to be so cold?” Emily asks, crossing one leg over the other, and Naomi’s treated with a full display of her legs. She scoffs. “Even now you’re just looking at me like...”
“Like what?”
“Like a piece of meat.”
The burn on her cheek starts hurting for another reason entirely, and she draws her head down to the table between them. There was something about Emily’s honestly that managed to rock her down.
Emily shakes her head. “You and your friends, you’re all such prats. You’ve got so much potential. I heard you got offered a position from Sutton.”
Christ. The girl knows everything. “You’ve got fire, you know?” Naomi says instead, changing the subject with an amused smile. “I like that. I usually have to be the fiery one.”
“You haven’t any real fire,” Emily says to her, “You seem to, and you’re outspoken, so everyone in class thinks you’re this grand, rebellious leader who’s going to change the world.”
Naomi gulps this down. It was nice, sometimes, to have this idea surrounding her, and she’d be lying if she were to say she didn’t like people having this image of her. But the idea that it doesn’t manage to fool Emily seems a bit disappointing, and she doesn’t like the feeling of disappointment and Emily.
“But if you were really rebellious,” Emily says calmly, “If you were really passionate, you’d do the brave thing, and that means being true to yourself.”
“Whoa,” Naomi stops her, waving her arms. “What the fuck.”
“You’re a good person,” Emily says, uncrossing her legs and leaning over the sofa. “But no one would know, with the company you keep, and the way you treat others.”
Naomi arches an eyebrow. “The way I treat others?”
“You’re cruel.”
Naomi laughs. “I don’t care,” she says before she can stop it, because it’s what she always says, because it’s simply become second nature. But as Emily sits back against the sofa and stares at her with these eyes that are just waiting, Naomi slowly, very slowly, starts to maybe regret the statement. In fact she starts regretting it completely. “Well-” she starts, but stops abruptly, realizing that word, that one defence was all Emily wanted, and now they’re on opposing teams, and Emily’s smiling at her like she’s won, and Naomi starts to feel the heat on her cheeks growing. She turns away, trying to slow her breathing.
Emily continues to look, calmly, patiently, and Naomi can feel her gaze just shifting over her, searching her, unravelling every silence and awkward movement. Finally Emily gets up from her seat and Naomi’s helpless before her, just staring. “I see you,” Emily says quietly, and Naomi believes it. Feels it. “I see straight through you, you know.”
Naomi feels a shudder run up her spine and she can only hope she doesn’t look terrified, can only hope her face doesn’t look as pathetic as it feels as she watches Emily walk off.
-
Emily continues to ignore her in class.
-
She gets crankier and crankier as she finds it more and more difficult to find and locate Emily. Two full weeks go by and she’s caught between wanting to spend more time with the redhead or cutting ties completely. There was something terrifying about the girl, and obnoxious that she could actually think she could see through Naomi. And then there was the other side, and Naomi was just too fucking lazy to describe that side, only that it wanted to see more of her.
“Something bothering you?” Effy’s asking as they watch Freddie walk to class from the steps.
“No,” she lies. They sit down and share a spliff and Naomi’s gotten use to the silences again, and chooses instead to gaze into the distance, trying to find red. She sees Cook in the distance, spotting them simultaneously and jumping towards them.
“You’re a shit liar,” Effy says.
“I know,” Naomi replies sadly.
“Whatever,” Effy sighs as Cook gets closer.
“Afternoon ladies,” Cook yells at them from the bottom of the stairs and Effy smirks. A passerby trips on his own feet at that moment, colliding with Cook. It’s all casual and funny, until Naomi sees Cook pulling the bloke’s wallet, and suddenly she’s flooded with guilt. She’s up and running down the steps before she realizes it, colliding with Cook and taking the wallet from him. He glances at her with a questioning look and she ignores it, throwing the wallet to the ground. The student turns around at the sound. “Oh,” he says, patting his shirt pocket and picking it up, “Dropped my wallet.” He shakes it at them with a smile. “Wouldn’t want to lose that.”
Naomi smiles. “No, you wouldn’t.”
Cook forces a laugh. “Have a good ‘un, mate,” he pats his back and sends the guy on his way. When they’re back up the steps, and sitting besides Effy he turns to her. “What was that?”
“I dunno,” Naomi says, watching the guy turn the corner, “I just don’t think it’s right.”
“You don’t think it’s right,” Cook says.
“No,” Naomi says, turning her eyesight to the skies.
Cook scoffs. “Well when did you get so high and mighty, mum?”
She turns to him. “Cook, it’s just not right. Stealing? It’s just not right. It’s a shit thing to do.”
“Well I know but-”
“There’s no but, Cook. It’s wrong. You shouldn’t do it.” She pauses, and takes a spliff out. Lights it. “I shouldn’t encourage it.”
Cook’s about to say something else when Effy touches his arm. “Leave it,” she says. He hesitates again, confusion still on his face when he looks back at her and his face softens. He sighs and lies back down beside Effy. They tan. Naomi smokes.
-
It happens like that, very slowly. It’s all very casual and non-condescending, but she stops Cook’s actions, his out of control destruction. Slowly she puts an end to it, and the fucking ‘greenlighting’ stops completely, and the stairs are open to the public, and though it isn’t as comfy or as completely silent as it used to be, it feels less lonely in another way.
Everything becomes less lonely, she discovers, when you stop being such a fucking prick. It wasn’t so much that she had to necessarily talk to them, but to not shut them out at all added that extra buzz around her head that university had to offer. The conversation, the animated chatter and heightened happiness around her, it just felt right. Things were starting to feel right.
Maybe this is what it’s like, Naomi thinks as she lounges alone on the steps one day, three other strangers sitting nearby discussing Poe, maybe this is what it’s like to really just be, and not have to worry about upkeeping something unstable.
-
“What’s happened?” Effy asks her the afternoon they set aside for tea, and they’re sitting on her couch again, blowing into familiar mugs.
“What do you mean?”
“To you,” Effy says with a smile, “You’ve changed.”
“I have?”
“Well,” Effy finds something interesting in her mug, “You haven’t. Not really. But you’re...”
“What?” Naomi asks.
“Nothing.”
Blow. Blow. Sip. Sip.
Naomi licks her lips and sighs at the thought of their steps. She brings her eyesight back up to Effy who’s fiddling with her bracelet. She bites her lower lip. “Cook fancies you, you know.”
Effy continues to play with the charms, although her smile’s faded a bit. “Everyone fancies me.”
Naomi smiles unsteadily. “But he’s Cook,” she tries.
Effy shrugs.
And for some reason, Naomi feels that jab into her chest. She drinks some tea but finds it only makes the scorch worse.
Part Two