Sketch

35 - Sam

Dedicated to 18whitemoon!  Early update today as it's my birthday, yay!, and I won't be around most of the day.  Enjoy :)

Emmy's reaction to Vince's words surprises me, but then again it doesn't.  Instead of denying Vince's words, in the hope that he'll say them again to further inflate her ego, she just accepts them as true and moves on.  Moving on involves challenging Vince to some sports match on the games station.

I watch as she plays.  It's obvious that she doesn't think she's above average when it comes to anything about her, but she's wrong.  Ollie sits down beside me, nudging my arm with his elbow.

"She's so real it's fake."

I raise an eyebrow at him.  "Is that supposed to make sense?"

He nods.  "I mean, she's so down to earth that it's almost unbelievable."

"But it is believable," I reply.  "She's genuinely that normal."

Ollie smiles.  "I know.  I was just pointing it out in case you hadn't gotten over yourself enough to see it yet."

I roll my eyes at him.  "I didn't need to get over myself."

"Yeah, right."

I sigh.  "Fine.  I did.  But I have so we can let it go."

"And?"

"And, what?"

He throws his head back and claps his hands to his legs.  "Idiot.  And have you finally realised that you fancy her?"

Ollie can only say it without want of a death wish because he's my brother, but I still punch his arm.

Luckily the sound of the TV is up loud, almost drowning out our conversation.  "Don't think they heard you on the moon."

He chuckles. "Just saying, man.  You gotta get there before someone else does.  Once we hit the big time and her face is all over the magazines, it'll be no time before some boy-band member or millionaire actor snaps her up."

I shake my head.  "Emmy's not like that."

"And how do you know?" Ollie asks, a serious look on his face.  "You haven't even asked her anything about herself since she's been here."

Ollie's words bring an onslaught of guilt and I fidget in my chair, looking over at Emmy as she turns the controller in her hands like it's going to make the car turn faster.  The action tugs on my heartstrings.

I lower my voice. "You think I have a chance?"

Ollie purses his lips, prolonging the agony that's suddenly building in my gut.  He shrugs.  "You don't know till you try.  I didn't think Tandy would look twice at me but you told me to quit being a baby and ask her out.  So I did, and three and a half years later I'm still as happy as when she said yes."

I grimace as I ruffle my younger brother's hair. "You're so cheesy it's sickening."

He smiles.  "It's called love.  You might wanna try it before it's too late."

I look to Emmy again to see that she's looking back at me.  I smile, and when I see the dimples on her cheeks I know that Ollie's right.  I need to say something before she ends up with someone like Vince.

                                                                      ***

"You do know that's completely unoriginal, don't you?"

I smile at Emmy's words.  "But I actually want to know."

"My favourite colour?" she says doubtfully.  "Your life must be exciting."

"It's your life now too," I say pointedly. 

She hugs a cushion to her chest.  It's half ten at night and Ollie and Vince are in their room.  I can hear the TV on and I guess that they're watching some sport highlights that they know neither Emmy or I would want to watch.  Being alone in the lounge with Emmy, Ollie's earlier statement about not having got to know her suddenly circling my head, I decided it was about time I asked her some questions.

"Well?"

She cups her jaw in her fingers.  "Forest green."

I laugh. "That's specific."

"It's a nice shade of green," she adds. "I'm not too keen on olive or lime green.  Forest green's just nice."  She smirks at me.  "That satisfied your burning need to know my favourite colour?"

I nod.  "Yes."

"Good," she says, shifting in her seat.  For a second I think she's heading off to bed but when she props a pillow behind her back and snuggles down into the sofa I realise she's just getting comfy.  "Then what's your favourite colour?"

"Blue."

"Just blue?"

I smile. "Yeah.  I'm not mean to all the other blues.  I just like blue in general."

She starts playing with her hair, twirling it in her fingers.  She nods slowly.  "Next question?"

I tap my lip.  "You ready?"

"Shoot."

"Favourite band."

She sticks her tongue out at me instantly, screwing up her nose.  It makes her look strangely endearing.  "I hate that question."

"That questions hates you," I reply.

She chuckles.  "No. I mean, I hate the fact that I have to choose one."

I press my mouth into a line.  "That's the rules."

"They suck," she insists.  "I can't choose one."

"I can."

"Go on then."

"Sketch."

She throws the cushion she's hugging at me.  It hits me in the chest, bringing with it the smell of her perfume. 

"What was that for?"

"For avoiding the question."

"I answered truthfully," I say.  "I really like Sketch.  Not sure about the new member though.  What's her name?"  I stroke my chin and look to the ceiling.  "Emily, is it?"

She stands up and my eyes at drawn to her tight fitting pyjamas.  She's wearing trousers today, hiding her bare legs from me, but one of the straps of her yellow camisole has slipped down off of her shoulder, showing more skin than usual.  My gut twists as Emmy follows my gaze.  She pulls the strap up quickly and takes a step towards me.

"Don't call me Emily," she says.  "Every teacher I ever had assumed Emmy was short for Emily.  It's not," she adds, almost as an afterthought.  "My singing teacher was the only one to get it right."

"I was joking," I assure her.  Then, as her words sink in.  "You had a singing teacher?"

She nods, stepping around the coffee table that's littered with magazines and empty cups, showing the return to our slobbish ways, before she perches on the end of the sofa I'm lounging on.  I tuck my legs up so she has more room and she smiles.

"I went to a music college," she explains.  "I focused on singing though."

"I didn't know," I say lamely.

She laughs.  "You never asked."

I blink at her bluntness.  "I guess not."

There's a short silence where we both seem to be lost in our individual thoughts before she clears her throat, drawing my attention back to her.

"So.  Next question."