Slips

The first day of college feels like a punch in the stomach - unexpected, unprepared for. My throat dry from weeks spent in a drunken haze, eyes wincing in the strange September sunlight, even with my aviators on. I walk through the bustling streets of early morning London, teeth chewing at my chapped lips. I stand at the pedestrian crossing, close my eyes, breathe in the petrol-infused air, and let my mind mill over the images of my Summer. Her thin body in his arms, sleeping contentedly after a night of mild substance abuse; his eyes as he invites me upstairs; her bare skin, perspiration making it glisten in the moonlight. A smile plays across my lips then, as my mind is prompted by the memory of that first night on the tartan blanket, to think of the many hours since that have been spent similarly. The traffic lights turn red, and I follow as my fellow commuters cross the road. As the mellow sounds of Maroon 5 infiltrate my ears, my thoughts drift to a week ago, my abrupt revelation, and her succinct, demeaning response: "you don't know what love is." I smile as I remember my frank rationale, "neither of us do."
I feel a tap on my shoulder, and turn my head to find her fresh face smiling at me. She slips her hand into mine, and we walk up to the gates of the glass sixth-form building. Feeling the warmth of her skin on mine, I am filled with conviction in the belief that, perhaps nobody knows what love is, but it can't hurt to try and find out.

Abdomen

My front teeth gnaw at my thumbnail, as my mind resounds with Emily's words; "you love her". My feet march, on autopilot, towards her house. I unlatch the small gate and walk up the garden path to her front door, clench my hand into a fist and throw three powerful knocks at the green-painted wood. As I wait to be greeted, my thoughts drift to two nights ago; her unexpected arrival at my house... even less predictable behaviour. I remember thinking, through an alcohol infused fog, that I didn't know why she was with me, that she couldn't actually want me; but I didn't care why she was kissing me, why her hand was working its way down my abdomen, why she had that uncertain look on her face. All that mattered was that I wanted her, and that, suddenly after months of being unattainable, she was there to be had. The door opens slowly, I hear her voice behind it, chattering on the phone I discover once she becomes visible.
"I have to go," she states upon seeing me, and hangs up.
My inhibitions fall to the floor unexpectedly. My mind stops functioning entirely as my heart takes over and I fall forward, pressing my lips to hers. She pushes me away after a long moment, and smiles slightly, eyes glistening as they fill with tears.
"I didn't think you were coming ba -"
"I think I love you."

Goose

My eyes open to a newly brightened day, warm sunlight spilling through the window and over the sofa where I lay. The sound of heavy footsteps descending the staircase sluggishly, resounds through the quiet house. I squint my eyes to see out of the half-open door, and find Tom's nude figure stepping down from the bottom step, to the wooden floor of the hallway. I pull the duvet over my head to stifle the cruel sound of irrepressible laughter; after knowing him for all of my teenage years, I am unable to evoke any other reaction at the sight of his gangly white body. I escape the confines of my goose feather tomb and bound up the stairs into Emily's bedroom. I climb beneath the heavy duvet with its plain white quilt cover and lay beside her sleeping silhouette.
"Just saw your hot boyfriend's bony bod'", I whisper into the ear not pressed to the pillow.
A smile creeps onto her sleepy face, followed by a gentle cackle, "sorry you had to witness that," she states, speech slurred, eyes still closed.
"She text me last night," I bite the skin surrounding my thumbnail.
"And you replied?"
"No... should I?"
I see her eyes open as the late morning sun filters through the duvet covering our faces, "you love her," comes her succinct response.
Her eyes close again and we lay in silence, the sound of Tom pottering around in the kitchen the only thing distracting my ears from my pounding heartbeat.

Blustery

I sit on the sagging sofa of Emily and Tom's small terraced house, wrapped in a duvet and scrawling through facebook on my phone. The barren student-type house creeks and heaves as the sudden blustery weather throws itself along the row of red-brick homes. I take a sip of the black filter coffee I made myself as soon as I awoke to find it wasn't yet 8AM; my index finger navigates the touch screen and brings me to the 'notifications' section. A wall post from 'Is James'. I follow the link and read the succinct public message to myself, "Text me back, dyke". I leave the webpage and wonder when I'll get round to speaking to her again, if ever. My mind is awash with nothing but confusion at my own thoughts and feelings - all I wanted this summer was her, then when I finally receive the opportunity to actually be something with her, I run away. Emily and Tom must still be asleep; the whole house is silent bar the patter of rain on the single-glazed windows. I rest my head on the arm of the sofa and feel myself gently relax into sleep. 

Tugging

We drive back in the direction of her house, the sun now set on our lazy afternoon. I stare blankly through the windshield, teeth tugging at the inside of my lower lip as my mind ponders fruitlessly. My fingers find the message from her on my phone, a helpless, 'where did you go?', yet to recieve a reply. We turn onto the street which houses the train station, she drums her palms rhythmically to the quiet sounds of the radio, and turns to face me.
"Mum and Dad indoors?" she looks back at the road in front of her.
"I don't know... neither of them came home last night..."
She doesn't respond, instead maintains her non-judgemental pretense. I assure her as the station comes into view that, 'I'll be fine', but her responsible, adult mind isn't appeased.
"You'll stay with me and Tom. At least until you've called to find out when they'll be back."
My lips stretch into a small smile, grateful for another day to think things over away from home. From her.

Basking

We sit opposite one another in Em's favourite pub/restaurant basking in the low, early evening sun, empty plates and constantly full glasses on the table in front of us. She smiles, pleased after all her nagging, that I ate a decent meal. Tears threaten once more as I realise how comfortable I am in her company, and that if I had merely spent time catching up with good friends, my summer would have been as good as I'd been hoping, with far less tears. She notices my chin trembling and gives my shin a kick under the table, "get a grip - we're in public," she says, feigning embarrassment. Her white teeth stretch into a smile so wide it overtakes all of her facial features, illuminating herself and everyone else in the room with its radiance.
"I've missed you," I utter, almost a whisper.
"I've missed you too!" she clutches my hands across the table, "don't leave it so long next time, missy."
I smile appreciatively at the fact that, however long we go without seeing one another, my oldest friend will always be there in my time of need; acting as though we were never apart.
"Buy me another drink?" I bat my eyelashes in the knowledge that she won't refuse - what's the point in having a nineteen-year-old best friend if she doesn't treat you every so often?
She walks over to the bar, credit card in hand, and I sit, trying to breathe without thinking about my other best friend - the one I've manipulated and punished nonchalantly. My phone lights up then with a text: her name flashes onto the screen.

Drum

Driving along the built up streets of inner-London in her battered vauxhall vectra, my thoughts are drowned out by the musings of a radio DJ interspersed with Emily's tuneless humming. We don't speak for the entire journey, my mind becoming contentedly numb, her's full, I'm sure with my teary story-telling. Her skin is irridescent in the light of the sun through the windshield, hands glow with a gentle tan, palms drum a rhythm to match her song, on the steering wheel. I close my eyes and let my skin bathe in the afternoon sun, the strength of it depicting an orange glow behind my eyelids.