Sketch

15 - Sam

This part is dedicated to Lace_V for recommending some awesome stories to me :)

I set my drink down before I dive back onto my bed, burying my face in my pillows.  What an ass!  Just use another one next time.  It's a frigging mug, what does it matter if she used it or not.  Using my toothbrush, yes, annoying, but a mug?  I roll over and slap my forehead.  What an idiot.  She's definitely going to hate me now.  I'm sure I saw a ghost of a smile on her face before I commenced stage two of acting like a dick.

I let out a groan before checking the time.  It's only nine-thirty and we've got nothing planned today.  I think Tanya scheduled this as 'bonding time' but I'm not sure if that's the best idea.  Especially seeing as I can't stop acting aloof when I'm around Emmy. 

Her innocent eyes had stretched even wider when I'd accused her of stealing my mug.  She looks younger without eyeliner and whatever other make-up she'd been wearing yesterday, and the sight of her bare legs tucked under the breakfast bar had made my breath catch.  I'm just glad I remembered to put on something more than my underwear before leaving my room. 

I huff into my pillow again before I sit up, leaning against my headboard.  I don't know if it's due to the fact that my mind is still muddled with sleep, but I wish I'd forced myself to sit down at the breakfast bar with Emmy.  Talking to her seems appealing.  We could talk about anything.  I know nothing about her and she only knows the stuff that she's read online.  Not that Sketch is in danger of appearing on the front page of a newspaper anytime soon. 

But what about my plan to test her? 

I fidget on my bed, creasing up the navy blue duvet.  A horrifying thought knocks the last of the sleep from my head.  What if I've single-handedly jeopardised Sketch's last chance to make it big?  I reach for my coffee to distract myself but a rap on my bedroom door stops me before I can take a drink.

I haven't heard any signs of Ollie or Vince stirring yet, so the knock can only mean one other person.  I set my mug back down on the bedside table, next to my lamp and phone, before running my hands through my hair to neaten it up.  It's useless really, seeing as she's already seen me fresh out of bed.

"Yes?" I call to the second knock.

The door creaks open slowly until I can see Emmy standing on the threshold.  She smiles at me before her eyes roam around my room.  I feel self-conscious, like she might judge me by my CD collection or posters.  I wait patiently until her gaze returns to me.

"Hi," she says.  "I was just wondering if I could have a shower?"

For some stupid reason I immediately return to default mode around her, which results in me shrugging with disinterest, but at least I know I can carry on with the plan.

"Up to you.  Just don't use all the hot water."

Emmy nods, her hair wobbling from its place on top her head.  She's taken off her hoody so I can see her blue tank top. Her legs are hidden from view by the huge purple towel that she's holding and I'm strangely disappointed.

She spots me looking at it and laughs.  "I was kinda hoping you'd say yes.  Doesn't hurt to be optimistic."

Her grin is way too happy for this time of the day but it doesn't bother me as much as I let on.  "Whatever."

She doesn't flinch at my disinterest at all.  Instead, she leans against the door frame and contemplates me for a moment, her eyebrows pinching. 

"Do you really write all the songs on your own?"

I'm taken aback by her question, not sure if she's hinting that I haven't got enough brain power for the job, or whether she seems impressed.  I shrug, trying to come off as indifferent.  "Yeah."