Right, well, I've no idea if this story's good. I'd like to think it is but I'm the author so I'm a tad bit biased, aren't I? As it were, won't know until I post it, yeah? So that's what I'm doing. :)

Rated T because of swearing, um "suggestive" (is the polite way to put it) talk, and mention of underage drinking, etc. You know, Skins. ;)

It's a three-shot, the next one's Katie's pov, then Emily's.

I'm not British by any extent of the imagination, though I'd love to visit someday. As it is, I did what I could based off the show, with slang and that and guesstimating about what age they'd start to be brave enough to use the more brash words.

Also, I did some research, and got myself very confused by the British schooling system and trying to connect it with Katie's talking of middle school. That being said, since Roundview is a fictional college and Bristol is a sizable city, suffice it to say I find it feasible that the middle school these characters attended will also be fictional and will therefore take pupils up until they're sixteen (which some do!), when they'll obviously move onto Roundview. ;)

So, enough talk, Skins isn't mine, nor any of the characters I'm borrowing.

Cheers!

...

The first time Naomi Campbell saw Emily Fitch, she was twelve.

Everybody knew Katie Fitch. Not personally, no. But they all knew her type. Loud, outgoing, generally considered fun, but stuck up and, if you were Naomi, extremely annoying. And everyone knew she had a twin sister. And that she was the most likely to put out when it came to boys. She'd never "not had a boyfriend" since she was seven, a fact she toted proudly and none too subtly, and in fact liked to wear about as an accessory to her printed shirts, obnoxious bows and over-sized handbags. So she had every male's attention within a thirty mile radius, despite the fact that many of them probably didn't even know what the dangly bits between their legs were for. But they knew that they had to be going for a piece of ass or two, and they knew that there was hardly anyone out there more suited than Katie Fitch.

Katie was infamous. But, for the Fitch girl, any press truly was good press, and the rumor mill liked to generate case after case about her. There was one rumor that she had a boyfriend who was in college. Naomi highly doubted that one, though she supposed that she shouldn't. It was Katie Fitch, after all. Another was how she'd lost her virginity at age 11. Naomi thought that obnoxious but it had a bigger possibility of being true. After all, Katie Fitch had made a name for herself, wearing the rumors and rocking them like a second skin or particularly clingy cocktail dress. Boys followed her in awe, girls with envy and just plain ol' naivety. And Naomi had had a class or two before with Katie Fitch. The girl could seem to get away with murder. All things considered, she was the epitome of experience, the brightest star in the bunch, socially, and all around just the girl to be seen with.

That, however, by no stretch of the imagination, made her popular. It made her famous…or infamous. Naomi considered it the latter and as such didn't pay much attention to Katie Fitch…though she knew who the girl was.

As it were, she'd yet to have a class with the younger Fitch twin, the quiet and forgotten one…until now. Naomi walked into class tired and bored, letting her bag fall to the floor and slumping in her seat, and it wasn't long until both a loud, almost barked, laugh and a flit of red hair made her look one row behind her and to the far left. There, in an obnoxious leopard print shirt and rather modest (for Katie Fitch) blue skirt, complemented with a completely tacky and way too large pink bag slung over her shoulder, was none other than Katie Fitch. Naomi could only roll her eyes and groan, but paused as the person sitting at the desk that Katie had her ass on caught her attention. Same red hair. Different bow, much smaller. Neutral, nondescript blouse and knee-length skirt. The Other Fitch.

Naomi could only stare curiously, a rush of warmth overtaking her as she eyed the girl, who looked up at her sister almost helplessly. Naomi bit her lip as she observed. Katie had a small crowd around her, and The Other Fitch? Seemed painfully shy about it. But Katie paid her no mind, hand waving animatedly and spewing words that the girls around her listened to with rapt attention. Finally Emily, seeming to come to terms with the large group and a stubborn sister who clearly was not about to go anywhere, leaned back in her seat and with a huff, folded her arms resignedly.

Naomi was fairly convinced that Katie would stay sitting on that desk all day, hogging it so Emily couldn't put her papers on it or anything, really, with the amount of space Katie was so liberally taking up, but eventually the teacher meandered in and Katie pushed herself off, going to the desk on Emily's right.

It was a wonder, really, that Naomi even knew Emily's name. Sure, everyone knew of The Other Fitch Twin, so much so that she'd even gotten the nickname "TOFT", for when bratty little tweens couldn't be bothered to actually learn her name, Naomi having been among them. But she'd overheard a conversation or two in which "Katie Fitch" and "Emily Fitch" were used comparatively, with "social butterfly" and "very sweet but quiet" used respectfully. TOFT was simply easier, but even Naomi couldn't quell a surge of curiosity upon hearing Emily's name. Was she really that opposite from Katie? Had to be, right? That was the way it worked. Twins were similar and all so people assumed they were similar in all ways, which meant that since that was what was expected, that was not what people got. Naomi had been curious, sure, but not that curious. Katie Fitch wasn't exactly a celebrity, and the world, especially Naomi's, did not revolve around Ms. Fitch and her family.

So it was interesting to see both Katie and Emily, sitting side by side, Katie leaning back confidently as she doodled and answered questions to her exam, her eyes deftly (but not subtly) sneaking peeks at everyone's answers around her, Emily with her pencil's eraser in her mouth, chewing nervously with her molars, eyebrows knitted together in concentration, hunched over the test…and Naomi, with not so much as one question answered, eyes so focused on the anomaly before her.

"Miss Campbell, eyes on your own exam," the professor quipped, none too happily from the front of the room, snapping Naomi out of her reverie. She could feel herself blushing as she looked down at her test, the words blurring together as her mind instantly lost focus and her cheeks became even more enflamed, embarrassed that she'd been caught staring and embarrassed about being embarrassed.

She tried, honestly, to take her test, but the questions had somehow translated themselves to Bulgarian, a language with which Naomi had absolutely no experience. She could only dig her pencil into her desk and bite her lip, furrow her brow and then unfurrow it, before she finally had enough of translating a language she knew nothing about and looking up, eyes gravitating towards The Other Fitch Twin.

Emily's pencil scribbled furiously and then stopped, eraser instantly situating itself where it had been minutes before, between Emily's front right molars. Emily cringed, seemingly unconsciously (and perhaps at the taste of a freshly used eraser) before she put the pencil back to the paper and wrote.

...

The first time Naomi Campbell talked to Emily Fitch, she was twelve.

The rock wall outside the school was a popular place for students to wait for their parents to pick them up. Those that were smart ran down the grassy hill and merely had to sit and swing their legs over the wall to be looking down at the sidewalk a good six feet below. Those who were rather thick would take the cement path down to the sidewalk and have to climb up to the top of the wall, using little jetting out rocks as their strongholds to get them up. They'd discovered Robbie Mahoney's coke stash when they'd accidentally knocked one of the stones out one day after school had let out. That had been an interesting day.

As it were, Naomi liked to consider herself one of the smarter students. Not only did she take the grassy path to the wall…she also stayed at school for nearly an hour and a half or more and then went out to the wall, where it was peaceful and empty except for a straggler or two, and the person paid to watch them, who often enough merely sat under the tree a few yards away at a picnic table, reading a novel until everyone had left. Naomi always secretly wondered how much they got paid to do that.

That particular day, though, Naomi was out half an hour after school had let out. The library was boring in that day…her favorite librarian was sick and the substitute was shit. Yelled at her for chewing gum in the library. Tosser.

So she'd left. The wall was still fairly empty for it being only half an hour afterward, and although Naomi technically was supposed to take a bus home, she never did. She either walked or biked, most of the time, but her mother was on a bit of a protective stint since they'd moved into a new neighborhood with "Crime Watch" signs posted willy-nilly about. For some reason Gina seemed to take them seriously, and Naomi's days of getting herself home were over for the time being. Not that she'd ever really gone home alone before. Her new place was pretty far, though her old one hadn't exactly been close. The difference was her old place was on a street where many kids lived. She could usually get one or two to walk home with her, and usually it was a kid named Freddie. She was hardly friends with him, but he was always the one who was around an hour or so after school, having found a safe place for a spliff or cigarette or two, and he had his skateboard (which he was rubbish at) and she had her bike. Between them, it had been more of a mutual agreement that they each served the other's purposes well, and thus would be "homeward bound" buddies. They hardly spoke and then Naomi had moved, and she hadn't seen Freds since.

She sat herself on the cement of the wall, adjusting her butt until she was as comfortable as one could get sitting on solid stone, and after a few minutes of staring at the world, reached into her bag and pulled out a tattered book, with the cover essentially off and useless and holding seemingly more bookmarks than pages. Naomi flipped it open carelessly and started reading.

"What's that?" a quiet voice interrupted, and Naomi looked up, to her right, at the person who was interrupting her, and met dark eyes and red hair.

"Uh," Naomi managed, and Emily furrowed her brow.

"Any good?"

"Not boring," Naomi returned sheepishly, closing the book but keeping her finger on her page, blushing slightly.

"Old?"

"It was my dad's," Naomi confessed, promptly wondering why on earth she'd let that slip.

"Oh," was all Emily said, and they settled into silence, Emily looking down at her shoes and swinging her legs, white stockings pulled high to her knees. "Do you miss him?"

"Didn't know him."

Emily merely nodded, and Naomi managed a half sincere smile, though she couldn't help feeling a tad odd. She'd never spoken to either of the Fitch twins, ever, in her life. She'd no need to. Why on earth would she need to? For Katie to confirm or deny the rumors? The latest one had the school buzzing about Katie's new, older beau…though he was definitely not in college. He was still older, though, definitely, and "fit". Naomi crinkled her nose at the thought.

"I'm Emily," Emily finally introduced, and Naomi nodded.

"Yeah, Emily Fitch," Naomi concluded, and Emily sighed.

"Don't hold that against me, I didn't pick her." Emily said under her breath.

"I wouldn't," Naomi offered, and Emily shrugged.

"Neither would I."

"Emily!" both of them turned to watch as the abominable red-headed, "Sexy!" tee sequined twin walked purposefully over in her two inch platforms, her walk a sashay and her lips pursed, eyes ablaze. "Mum and dad are looking for us, for fuck's sake, get up you twat! We've got to go!" she snapped, grabbing her sister by the arm and hoisting her up. Emily didn't protest, merely stood and started walking away with her grumbling sister.

"Bye," she said, just as Naomi was returning to opening her book. Naomi looked over her shoulder in time to see a small, sincere smile directed at her and a little wave. Naomi's throat closed in on itself and, momentarily, the blonde forgot to breath.

...

The first time Naomi Campbell (unconsciously or otherwise) realized she'd fallen for Emily Fitch, she was thirteen.

The falling wasn't instant, like it was in movies. It wasn't quick and it wasn't eyes connecting, thoughts racing, heart palpitating. If fact it'd been quite innocent…so much so that Naomi Campbell had missed it altogether when it happened nearly a year and a half before. The realization wasn't like a brick, either. Wasn't getting hit with a clue by four or walking into a wall or sign or anything so jarring. Nothing painful or heart or gut wrenching, nothing that tore her apart until she started to question what, exactly, had happened.

It was a normal day, much like any other. Naomi didn't find it particularly fascinating, and she was fairly certain that nobody else thought it to be that either. Rather uneventful, with only minor acts of debauchery carried out by the most extreme of cases of slackers and punks, the worst offense being a cherry bomb in a loo that the fuckers had stupidly lit and then thrown in water, thus diffusing it. The only reason anyone was privy to the fact that it happened was because there was a teacher in the stall next to them. Wankers.

As it were, it hardly affected Naomi. Nothing about the day was eventful, absolutely nothing. One of her classmates had gotten better than her on a quiz in social science, and had proceeded to rub it in her face for some reason or another that Naomi didn't particularly give a shit about. Katie Fitch had a new boyfriend, this one in college, and he got her into all of the hottest college parties and even knew one Tony Stonem.

A great air of mystery hung over this Stonem character, with little actually known about him other than the fact that his name transcended all others in the town when it came to parties, and if a person were able to get into a party where Tony Stonem was, they were a fucking lucky bastard. And Katie Fitch had supposedly partied with him. Twice. Thanks to her new boyfriend. Who was "totally fit" (as they all seemed to be) and whom was in college. And not the little lower grade pussies, he was a senior. He bought her alcohol and she became the one person to be around. And she drank the attention up like a fine wine that Naomi knew would be far too pungent for her or for Katie's twin, whom Naomi hadn't spoken with since the year prior, on the wall. Not that that didn't stop them from sharing a quick glance or two in the hallway, or in passing, or anywhere. Of course, upon return after summer break, Naomi had hardly seen hide nor hair of the quiet Fitch twin, coming across her perhaps a total of four times throughout the year, only to be ignored, though not rudely as Emily typically had her eyes to the floor and seemed little inclined to lift them. Naomi had found herself mildly (extremely) surprised when she realized she quite missed their little exchanges and acknowledgements. She'd figured she'd get over it, but a simple nagging in the back of her mind wouldn't let up as she'd pass Emily, and didn't greet her with a smile. It all eventually reverted back to where they didn't even act as though they'd never talked. As if they were strangers. Which, technically, they were. But something about that bothered Naomi and she often couldn't help herself, and would find herself taking alternate routes between courses to her locker or to the loo or something, hoping with the changed paths to perhaps catch Emily's attention.

It didn't work, the new routes proving just as fruitless as the originals as to even finding the younger Fitch, and thus, Naomi did nothing but hold out hope…and stare down the hall when she finally did get a good glimpse of Emily, who, on that particular day, wore a blue bow in her hair that complimented splendidly with her color. To Naomi's surprise, their eyes met down the crowded hall, for a second, but a smile was exchanged and Naomi, for the life of her, couldn't wipe the smile away even after Emily had long disappeared from sight.

But it wasn't even that that tipped her off. It was Katie Fitch who started it, really.

"He's fucking great, let me tell you right now," Katie bragged, loudly, in the hall after a rather pointless assembly. "Sensational in bed too, though mind you I make him work for this shit," Katie nodded cockishly as she motioned to herself, raising her eyebrows proudly, the girls around her hemming and hawing and gawking and swooning and hanging on Katie Fitch's every word. "And the party we went to last night? College only, but I got in yeah, cause my boyfriend's that great!"

"Wow," one girl said breathlessly, and Naomi couldn't help but pause in her walk, eyes catching sight of Emily standing behind her twin, eyes to the ceiling and rocking back and forth slightly on the balls of her feet, looking exasperated.

"Yeah, totally fetch, right?" Katie tossed her hair. "I was so happy with him last night, I let him get to second base!" Katie declared triumphantly, pushing her chest forward to emphasize her point.

Emily's eyes widened incredulously behind her sister's back and, in almost mock-bewilderment, mouthed "What second base?" to herself, looking at the lockers nearest her with questioning eyes.

Naomi had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at Katie, who was completely unaware of the unintentional insult Emily had just flung her way. Emily. Emily had just flat-out insulted her sister…albeit without her knowing, but still. Emily, with her sweet and innocent smile and quiet voice, quiet demeanor and shadow girl to her sister, was fuckin' ballsy.

Naomi felt a rush of warmth as she watched Emily, a swell of pride rising in her chest at the realization. Emily. Fitch. Naomi could only stare and smirk, until Emily looked up and caught her eyes, and, after silent deliberation between the two, broke into a shit-eating grin, which Naomi could only return, another rush of heat shooting through her torso and settling in her chest and on her cheeks.

Emily. Fitch.

...

The first time Naomi Campbell kissed Emily Fitch, she was fifteen.

Perhaps it was the alcohol. Or the sweaty teens or the fact that this stupid thing was happening in a basement with the twat's parents not only providing the space and the booze, but a great source of entertainment as they got hammered and attempted to dance with, and like a, bunch of teenagers. Naomi wasn't sure which was worse, attempting to blend and failing miserably or attempting to grind on people who weren't legal yet, and were at least thirty years the adult's junior. Naomi found it rather disgusting and was quite pleased when the parents retired upstairs…so pleased in fact that she held up her (warm) champagne bottle to the people around her and shouted "Cheers!" above the music before taking a long swig. As if alcohol weren't enough to try and swallow, warm alcohol, and warm champagne, at that, didn't tickle her fancy. As it were, she'd already had several shots of something and the champagne was the only unopened bottle she figured she could trust…it was easy enough, after all, to open a screw-top, put a roofie in, and then shut it tight enough that it seemed as though the seal wasn't broken. Paranoid? Perhaps. But Naomi wasn't much in the mood to be roofied, and had taken what she assumed would be the lesser of two evils: a very difficult to open, but ultimately effective, bottle of champagne, which she alternated with a flask of vodka she's snuck from home.

That was all there really was to do at the party, drink or dance. And Naomi didn't dance. She had two left feet and she only danced when she was so wasted, and everyone else was so monumentally fucked, that it no longer mattered, nobody would remember anyway. Most people at the party were far ahead of her, though, having taken a medley of pills and booze and spliff and now simply basking in the effects.

Naomi, however, was several steps behind, the alcohol kicking in but not enough to make her delirious enough to dance with the losers jumping about the stuffy basement.

The only plus side to the entire party was that Naomi had seen none other than Katie Fitch, basking in the attention of several male suitors, all happy and willing to get her something to drink, or to do something for her, all in the hopes she'd forget her boyfriend for the night (who wasn't even there, supposedly) and shag them. Not that Naomi thought she would. Even Katie Fitch had principles…right?

But what really thrilled Naomi, secretly or not, about seeing Katie Fitch was that Emily certainly couldn't be too far behind. Not that she'd seen the quiet girl all night. She'd looked, sure. Sat her ass down on that stupid couch and watched the crowd for hours, eyes attentive but surely glazed, thinking and moping and allowing her mood to grow all the more foul as time passed but Emily didn't.

The entire party was winding down before Naomi even spotted Emsy. The girl was tucked away, close to the speakers which had been turned down quite a bit after an irate parent had stormed downstairs, screamed about trying to sleep and, being drunk, managed to scare the shit out of the few intoxicated persons left dancing, and thus had ended the raving. Of course, that didn't stop people from continuing to party, pills popped, spliffs lit, bottles opened despite the dwindling supply.

She clutched a bottle of Revolución to her chest, cradling it slightly. Naomi couldn't tell from where she was sitting if the bottle was empty, but it was hardly like it mattered. She'd finished off her champagne nearly an hour before and was still riding the drunk buzz, smiling lazily when she finally caught Emily's eye. Emily returned the gesture.

"Hey!" she said, making her way over to Naomi in the darkened room, the smoke from the cigarettes and weed making her look ethereal as she waded her way over passed out people and weaved through a dense clump of people still sober enough to have not collapsed on the floor, but who were probably so out of it that it didn't matter. As it were, the people left standing had turned to either finishing the alcohol, dancing to music only they could hear (or what little was still possibly coming out of the speakers) or snogging.

"Hey!" Naomi greeted, just as happy, grinning widely as Emily stumbled forward and essentially fell on top of the blonde. Naomi involuntarily shivered as Emily's hot breath tickled her neck as the red head giggled furiously.

"Naomi!" she half shouted, through the fog in her mind and the sounds still permeating the basement. On the couch, in the basement, they were alone…but not. Not at all, in fact.

"Yeah Ems," Naomi replied, pushing Emily away. The younger Fitch flopped unceremoniously beside Naomi on the couch the blonde had been occupying all night.

Emily grinned again. "I hate you!" she giggled, tossing her head back. "Jesus, do you know what you do to me?"

"Wha-?" Naomi managed, heart suddenly stuck in her throat.

"Naomi," Emily said, turning to look at her, eyes suddenly dead serious.

Naomi's heart stopped. Those eyes were so dark, so alluring…daring and dangerous and seductive. It had to be the alcohol, kicking in full-force, and the spliff fumes…had to be. Emily's eyes traveled down, up, down, to what Naomi wasn't sure, her breaths coming in quick gasps as she observed Emily's conflicted gaze.

It happened too fast for Naomi to know precisely what happened, yet she knew what had happened. Emily leaned forward, her lips suddenly on Naomi's.

Naomi's stomach lurched, her intestines jumped and her heart, already in terrible condition, stopped again, her breath knocked out of her in shock. And as fast as it had come, it was over, Emily pulling away and then…

Naomi didn't care, at that point, who leaned in the second time, or who came back. It didn't matter. Emily's lips on hers were the only thing that mattered, Emily's tongue, just, Emily. God it felt good. Somewhere in Naomi's mind she knew she was screaming at herself. She was kissing a girl for fuck's sake! She shouldn't…couldn't, but Naomi couldn't focus, all thoughts about not kissing the girl she was snogging pushed or fogged with alcohol and whatever the fuck Emily had ingested. Whatever it was, it was strong, Naomi was dizzy, and she knew against her better judgment that this was what she'd wanted all along.

…And then it was gone. With a simple yet sharp "What the fuck?", everything Naomi had thought was thrown into chaos, and she could only listen, shell shocked, as insults were thrown and Emily's eyes pleaded, somewhere the conversation was registering in her mind, but as she processed, just as fast as it had happened, Emily and Katie left in a flurry, leaving a very confused, completely tipsy Naomi to stare at the wall in utter, unadulterated, blistering loathing, walls crumbling and breaking and raining on her, crushing her.

Shattering.

...

So, shall I continue?