Sketch

20 - Emmy

Dedicated to paigemae23.  Thanks for all the votes :)

It's like there's only the two of us in the room.  I'm unaware of what Tanya and the guys are doing, all my focus on staring Sam down.  He's got his arms folded over his broad chest, coming off as defensive, and his dark eyebrows are pressing into his eyes, narrowing them to slits.  I'm not one to argue but I'm determined to stand up for myself, especially seeing as I've done nothing wrong.

"And how are any of us supposed to have a career if we don't get on?"

The harshness of his words doesn't faze me to the point that I let it show, but my heart does stutter for a beat.

"Who says I don't want to get on with you?  Maybe Vince is right.  You don't trust people enough to give things a go."

"I trust people.  Just not you."

I snort at his comeback.  "And why is that exactly?  Because I'm not a guy?  Is that it?  A girl can't be in Sketch because she's not good enough?"  I tap my foot on the floor, impatiently waiting for an answer.  "Well?"

He shakes his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes.  "Exactly."

"Liar."

"How so?"

"You let Tanya manage you."

"And?"

"She's a woman."

He shakes his head again.  "That's different."

"How so?" I say, mocking his words.

He glares at me.  "Because I like her."

I throw my arms up in the air in complete and utter exasperation. "And we're back to square one."

"We're not getting anywhere," Tanya says and I look to her, feeling sorry as I take in her exhausted expression.  "Sam, Emmy's staying here whether you like it or not.  Emmy, ignore him back."

"So you're taking her side?" Sam asks, an incredulous look on his face.  "Thanks then."

"I'm not taking anyone's side," Tanya insists.  "You're the one being unfair, Sam."  She bites her lip like she's unsure whether to continue or not.  "She's not Michelle."

At that Sam storms off, slamming his bedroom door so hard that the glasses in the kitchen sink rattle.

Tanya lets out a deep sigh.  "I'm so very sorry, Emmy.  I didn't know things would be quite this bad."

I nod but my mind's elsewhere.  What if last time and Michelle are linked?  I look to Ollie and Vince, who are both wearing sheepish expressions.  I need to ask them before Sam tries to strangle me in my sleep.  Something tells me this isn't the end of the argument. 

                                                                         ***

The next morning is as tense as the night before.  Sam moves around me like I'm not even there.  I sit at the breakfast bar, trying to force down my Cheerios, when really I'm feeling too sick to eat. 

I'm not one to argue.  There's no point; shouting at each other doesn't solve anything.  Sure, it makes you feel a whole less burdened and it's always nice to have the truth out in the open, but it's crappy when you feel like something's were left unsaid. 

I need to know about last time.  I'd wanted to ask Ollie and Vince last night but soon after Tanya had left, after an unsuccessful attempt to get Sam to come out of his room, the guys had gone to bed.  I guess they felt sorry for me, assuming I'd want to be left on my own but I hate being left to mull over things.  I don't make a habit of overthinking things, I'm more of a get up and go girl, but after a disagreement I spend ages trying to figure out if what was said was meant.  Questions had kept me from sleep and I'd spent almost an hour staring blankly at the ceiling above my bed, trying to work out whether Sam really hates my guts or if it's all for show.   Not that I have any idea why it would be for show.  His narrowed eyes and hardened jaw had backed up everything he'd said.

It hurts to think I'm not wanted but, like I said last night, I'm not taking this lying down.  If he wants to be a jerk, he can.  Two can play at that game.

I can hear Sam rustling in the fridge behind me and I slurp the last of my milk noisily before dropping my spoon into the empty bowl.  My breakfast feels unsettled in my stomach but that doesn't stop me setting my plan into action.  If there's something I've learnt from my dad, apart from karma and fate, it's how to be a wind-up merchant.   If there was an exam on it, I'd get an A+.

Ollie and Vince are slouched on the sofa watching some sort of documentary about insects.  I'd half expected everyone to stay in their own rooms today, seeing as Tanya had said we wouldn't be doing anything band related until tomorrow.  I'm still in my pyjamas, tartan shorts and a black tank top, and I don't plan on getting dressed today.

Sam's standing at the sink now, filling a mug with water.  I wait till I'm right beside him before I set his blue mug down on the work top.  I catch sight of his eyes moving to the mug and he stiffens.  I lean past him to place my bowl in the sink, intentionally brushing against him.

I'm waiting for him to bring up the fact that I've used his mug again, barely able to keep a smile from my face.

"Don't mess with me on purpose," he says quietly so only I can hear.

I tilt my eyebrows in mock confusion and cock a hip out.  "What do you mean?"

He looks to his mug with a pointed stare.  "You know that's mine."

"It's a mug," I state, still feigning innocence.  "It's not like I used your toothbrush."

His lips move to one side, like he's really having to try not to bite back. 

I let my smile show.  "I am sorry though.  I mean, you wouldn't have that problem if I wasn't here."  I bump shoulders with him.  The bare skin on his upper arm is warm against my shoulder and for a moment I'm distracted but then I'm back in the room, fluttering my eyelashes at him.

He makes a strangled sound at the back of his throat.  "Bitch."

"You love it," I joke, touching his arm again.

He shrugs me off.  "Stop that."

"Stop what?" I ask. 

He spins away from me and back to the fridge.  I stick my tongue out at his back before walking to the sofas.  I sit down next to Ollie.

There's a moment of silence before he turns to look at me, an amused expression on his face.

"I can't decide if you're going to win or not," he says.

I sink back into the chair, crossing my legs and blinking at him slowly, holding his attention.  "It's not if I win, but when."

Ollie jerks a thumb over at Sam, who's frowning at the toaster as he waits for his breakfast.  "If you carry on like that, it won't be long."

We share a knowing smile before I spot the remote control on the cushion between us.

Ollie nods ever so slightly.  "He hates the pop music channels," he mutters, stretching his arms above his head to disguise his moving lips.

Without another word I pick up the TV remote and switch channels.  I smile in satisfaction when Sam swears at my choice of program.  I'm not much into pop either, but if it winds Sam up, I'm all for it.