the bolter @emsclarkes - Tumblr Blog

If the current circumstances weren't based on the incredibly painful experience of losing the love of her life, then Rory might've felt her ego grow at the understanding that she could still make Emily Clarke stutter. And that would be before all of the eye contact they apparently couldn't stop partaking in, which only made Rory finally avert her eyes down the court to where she had just been standing minutes ago and had no idea Emily was within yards of her. "Okay, good." She could only nod at the next part, not that it really mattered who Emily was there with or why she was. She was there to play tennis and clearly ruin Rory's Sunday and maybe her entire summer. "I'm sure he's happy you're back."

"You wouldn't have a reason to know, would you?" She began with a shrug. Emily was the one who ultimately moved away, after all. "Just for fun," The brunette said slowly, thankful that there was something familiar they could talk about. "I took over as the girls' team head coach at school a few years ago, so I always have to know what I'm talking about. I give lessons in the summer. Thankfully that gossipy bunch of 12-year-old girls this morning didn't have to witness this conversation." It was said with an attempt of a smile and then it was gone again so she could catch her breath. It felt like she had to keep talking, anything to evade the awkward looks and confusing silence that she was sure would take over if neither of them spoke. She'd never had that with the taller woman, and she sure wasn't ready for it now. Pressing her lips together, she scanned her mind for anything to say. "So New York, huh?" With a tilt of her head, she continued. Small talk was safe, even if she wanted nothing more than to walk away. Her legs felt like they were stuck in their spot right by the serving line, even if her brain clearly wasn't. "Fits you, I suppose." A moment of realization, widening eyes, and she couldn't help the self-deprecating chuckle that left her lips. "Let's pretend I didn't just say that and I don't know where you've been these past few years because I looked at your Instagram a few times?" A few times was an understatement.

emsclarkes

Happy you're back. Emily raised her eyebrows, offering a simple nod. Dean had been happy she'd come back, but Emily's mind instantly went elsewhere. Was Rory happy she was back? She already knew the answer was no - and she couldn't blame her - but a small, infinitesimal part of her wished that she was. Not that that would've made any logical sense - why on Earth would Rory ever be happy to see her after their relationship ended the way it did? After it felt like their hearts had been wrenched from their chest by the other.

Rory's voice wasn't malicious when she pointed out that Emily didn't have a reason to know whether or not she still played tennis, and for that, Emily was grateful. Rory could've been going about this interaction in a completely different way, but they'd both evidently decided to opt for polite conversation instead of cutting remarks (of which Emily knew there was probably no shortage of). She found herself nodding along to Rory's explanation of her coaching, absorbing new facts about the woman she'd once loved, new things about someone who she'd once known better than anyone else in the world. It was a strange sort of grief, to realize that the version of Rory she'd once loved no longer existed, just like the Emily of back then had been changed by the years that had passed since she'd been gone.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when the topic of conversation shifted to her and her life, or former life in New York. It didn't even occur to her that it was strange that Rory knew that until Rory caught herself, Emily catching on half a beat later. Had they really been so cut from each other's lives that she'd never told Rory she was going to New York? That they hadn't even had a single conversation in all the years that had gone by? With Rory standing right in front of her, it felt like time was warping around the two of them - her life on Marshall Island seemed so recent, so fresh in her mind, but, she knew, she'd built an entire separate life in a separate city, a million moments crammed into the years that separated her life in Marshall Island from the life she had now.

"It's okay," She blurted, laughing partially out of politeness but partially because the way Rory babbled when she was embarrassed was always endearing and funny to her, "We never blocked each other," Emily pointed out, as if that was an accomplishment on their part. Break ups could be ugly - but at least they never blocked each other, and Emily had never even deleted the photos off her Instagram - she'd left things exactly as they'd been. It was also a backhanded admission, because she was just as guilty as Rory of perusing the other's social media pages, keeping tabs when curiosity got the best of her. "I guess I was just trying to find a place that fits me as well as Marshall Island fits you," She shrugged, "But I guess it wasn't New York."

skipperlandvik

She landed with a crash back into the moment. Not overseas, not in the military, not living through the thousandth imagined death she could've had while enlisted. Instead, she was in the bed of another blonde, with plush pillows and soft sheets wrapped up in her fists and an oversized sleep shirt that didn't belong to her. She was safe. The wave of anxious relief rolled over her as soon as the hand, a touch that was growing so familiar, grasped her arm, offering a something to latch onto as she fell back down. The room came into focus, the light of the clock shone brightly, and her stomach swam with the waning fear of what was in her mind just moments before. Her chest rose and fell with the breaths she took, short and panicked and threatening to cave her chest in on itself with each other.

Her muscles were still tensed in her forearms, the sheets still tangled in tight fists, but her breathing was starting to even out, her mind balancing reality and fiction as every second passed. "It's... I'm..." Skipper's head shook in denial, even though she hadn't actually denied anything yet. What they were doing hadn't exactly led to an opportunity to drop the fact that she spent over a decade of her life in the military. How was she supposed to explain it in the midst of the panic flooding her veins. "A nightmare," the blonde finally croaked out into the darkness of the room, forcing the words from her mouth even though they hardly felt like her voice saying them. "It was just a nightmare." 'Just a nightmare' had never felt like such a lie. 'Just a nightmare' didn't leave fists curled this tightly into sheets, didn't leave chests so heavy it felt like it could suffocate her at any moment. 'Just nightmares' were so much simpler to explain to someone she'd been casually sleeping with in the dead of night, someone she barely hard known for a collective two months.

@emsclarkes

emsclarkes

They were still in the dark, but even unable to see, Emily could feel how tightly Skipper's muscles were tensed under her hand, she could hear how ragged her breathing was. She realized that she too was near-panting, adjusting to how quickly sleep had left her. Still, despite being awoken so suddenly, she was alert, trying to assess the threat. "I'm turning the light on," She announced, not wanting to scare her when she reached over and turned the lamp on with her free hand, leaving her other hand wrapped around Skipper's arm, throwing a warm, yellow light into the room.

Now that she could see, she let her eyes rake over Skipper with an almost surgical-like precision, perceptive in gaze. A nightmare. Skipper didn't exactly seem surprised by this. Emily herself was no stranger to nightmares, especially in her youth, but they, for the most part, had subsided, and if one dragged her out of sleep in her mid-thirties, it would've caught her off guard. But there was a note in Skipper's voice that had snagged her. "A nightmare," Emily repeated, her eyes flicking down to how tightly her hands were clenched around the bedsheets. "Why don't you sound surprised?" She asked, letting her hand trail down her bare arm until she could wrap her hand around her fist, gently forcing her fingers open, coaxing them to relax instead of clutching the fabric so hard it must've hurt.

She wasn't exactly sure what they were doing, or what territory this was, because, so far, they'd only been hooking up and errantly texting. This - talking in bed together in the middle of the night, was undeniably something different, and yet, Emily didn't balk at it. How could she, when Skipper had sounded so terrified when she'd said her name. "Hey - you have to breathe," She said, interrupting her own thoughts when she'd clocked the fact that Skipper's chest was still heaving. "Nothing's here," She added, her thumb brushing over her knuckles.

campbellrory

location: marshall island community park

starter for: @emsclarkes

Rory would tell anyone that she was doing just fine with it all. Sure, her barista that morning had been a little concerned when she'd practically froze in the middle of paying for her iced chai latte when she saw a flash of blonde hair in her peripheral vision. And okay, maybe she spent the entire day before holed up on the couch with a very large bottle of wine just so she wouldn't have to go awkwardly run into her ex-girlfriend. The fact that she could be anywhere was only a little anxiety-imducing, and Rory liked to plan ahead. And this? This was absolutely nothing she'd have thought to plan for.

Thankfully, the bimonthly tennis lessons she gave to a group of middle schoolers over the summer kept her mind away from Emily for most of the morning, and she was grateful that she had something she cared about enough that could. Now though, as she moved around the court picking up all of the balls she'd previously served over the net (she definitely had some emotions she needed to get out) her thoughts were coming back in full force. It didn't help that she was doing something the 2 had been so passionate about, either. Sighing a little dramatically, she willed herself to think about anything else just as she threw one of her balls into the metal basket she usually kept in her car, and it bounced off the corner and rolled off in the opposite direction. Not even thinking of anything else but following it, her vision remained on the ball as it rolled across the blacktop and landed against the nearby fence surrounding the courts, where it thankfully came to a stop. Her soft jog led her straight over to it and as she bent down to grab it, suddenly became aware of the presence of 2 long legs that stood maybe 3 feet away, and soon after when she looked up and was about to apologize, the achingly familiar body and head of blonde hair. Oh, shit.

Slight panic rose in her throat as she sucked in a careful breath, and then her mouth immediately started moving, almost as if she was afraid of how an awkward silence between them would make her feel. "Hi, Emily." She began, suddenly remembering how that word felt in her mouth. "Uh, sorry to interrupt. This ball developed a mind of it's own." She threw it up gently in the air and caught it, needing something to do with her hands. Something to demonstrate that she didn't just waltz over to her ex-girlfriend by choice. Her eyes finally met Emily's and she cleared her throat, her mouth suddenly dry. It didn't not hurt, that's for sure. It hurt like a bitch. "I guess I should've expected to run into you here."

emsclarkes

Emily had been, in short, spiraling, since her brief text exchange with Rory. She'd meant to be productive as soon as she moved - unpacking boxes in her overpriced apartment, handling things for work, being a functioning human, but instead, she'd spent too many hours pacing back and forth amid aforementioned boxes, wondering if texted her ex had been the wrong move. After too many hours, she'd concluded that no, texting Rory hadn't been the wrong thing to do. Even if they hadn't spoken for years, letting Rory know was warranted, and it was a courtesy that Emily would've wanted to receive too. It might've been easier to let Rory live in obliviousness until they actually ran into each other, but Emily couldn't imagine the horror of that abrupt, unexpected reunion.

And so she concluded that, despite how difficult things were, she'd done the right thing in telling Rory, even though she wasn't sure if moving here was even the right thing. It was done and she was there, and, she reasoned, she could always just pick up and move again. It's what she did, after all. It was no use wondering if she'd ever find a place that felt like home, a feeling that, at 36, was so foreign to her, even though she had felt at home with Rory, before their relationship had ended.

It had taken a few days, but Emily was coping with her stress by not coping at all. Instead, she'd taken to going on pre-dawn runs and texting her old tennis coach, hoping that each day she could make herself tired enough to actually sleep at night. She'd contemplated giving up tennis in her twenties - obviously she'd never play professionally, so it almost seemed silly to have a coach - but Emily was committed to constantly improving. She needed someone to push her, to yell at her, to give her something to work toward, even if it was just a silly little hobby. And Dean had done that for her in the years she'd lived on Marshall Island, and she was grateful he'd been willing to meet her at the tennis courts and kick her ass at it that morning. It was everything she'd needed to clear her mind, and she welcomed how her muscles burned in exhaustion from how hard she'd played.

Dean had left, but Emily was considering sticking around to see if anyone would play singles, or practicing her own returns against the wall when she saw her. Emily saw Rory before Rory saw Emily, as familiar as she'd remembered, chasing an errant ball across the asphalt, towards her. If Emily's brain had been working, she would've taken a step back, or said something before Rory had nearly reached the tips of her sneakers, but she didn't rendered silent in disbelief, even though, inevitably, she knew it would happen one day.

"Hi Emily," Her own name was so familiar on Rory's tongue that she felt her throat thicken at the sound of it. Oh- how she had missed that sound. "H-Hi," She said, feeling her spine straighten, her eyes locked on Rory's soft, endless brown eyes. She followed the arc of the ball Rory tossed, tearing her eyes away from Rory's face briefly, until she spoke again. "I- no, no, you're not interrupting," Emily said, twirling the neck of her racket to give her hands something to do. "I was here with Dean," She explained. It wasn't lost on her that she didn't have to explain anything - Rory knew who Dean was, she knew Emily played tennis and he was her coach and that Emily loved nothing more than playing tennis until she was exhausted. "I wasn't sure if you still played," Emily admitted in response. Emily wasn't sure of anything, really. Four years was a lot of time for a person to change, and she wondered just how much Rory had changed.

#rorycampbell

skipperlandvik

location: emily's home.

closed starter for @emsclarkes

She could feel the sweat already forming warm beads on her temple, her chest threatening to cave in with each startled breath she took, as she jolted awake, the sheet beneath her gripped between her fists so tightly she wasn't sure if it would ever be able to be unclasped or if her fingers would meld with the material of the sheets and become one. Her gaze darted around the darkness of the room, as though she was seeking out both the threat and a way to keep herself safe. It wasn't until she could feel the movement next to her that her heart slowed enough for her to actually feel how hard it was beating against her chest instead of it just being completely and utterly numb. "Em?" Skipper wasn't sure why she uttered the name of the other as she struggled to catch her breath, zoning back into enough of reality to figure out just where she was and who she'd been with. After leaving the service, she'd always expected the nightmares to fade off as she became more integrated with civilian life, but they stayed with her, as strong as the memories that showed up in them and the million deaths she never lived. It was the reason she absolutely never lingered after hooking up with someone, not since Jessie... not until now.

emsclarkes

Emily, usually, was a heavy sleeper, but external circumstances could pull her out of her sleep in an instant. She hardly every woke up on her own, but something like a car horn, her phone ringing, or someone getting out of bed could rouse her quickly, as if she was missing out on something by being asleep. She attributed it to her constant work stress and overall life stress, how abruptly she woke up sometimes, but had long ago succumbed to the fact that it was a career path she'd chosen and she had bigger problems to fix than her sleep pattern.

She'd never intended to rekindle things with Skipper once she actually moved to Marshall Island, but one thing had led to another and their stream of text messages never really stopped when she was back in New York packing up her place. More than that, she actually missed her, and felt a sense of longing when she returned back. She wanted to see her, regardless of how fucked up that was. But she'd reached out, and Skipper had come over to her half-unpacked, overpriced apartment, and Emily had opened a bottle of wine for herself, knowing where the night would go. She actually liked that Skipper hadn't gotten up to leave the moment it was over, and she, for once, didn't really question things when she ended up in an oversized t-shirt, curled up into Skipper's side, her lids heavy with sleep.

That sleep was shattered in an instant when she felt her wrench up from beside her, shaking Emily out of her own sleep with a gasp, fumbling to sit up in the darkness, to get her bearings, to figure out what exactly was happening. "What?" Emily gasped, her chest heaving, trying to hold on to the tail end of a dream - a nightmare? - no, it was real, Skipper was awake next to her, and speaking, asking for her, the name tumbling from her lips almost too easily in the dark.

"I- Yeah," Emily responded breathily, confirming that she was there in bed, reaching out in the darkness on instinct, fumbling for Skipper's upper arm. Groggy, her eyes found the clock - 3:41am - as she coughed to clear her throat. "What? What's happening?"

emsclarkes

emily: i didn't want to assume or anything. emily: approximately 36 hours ago?? the past two weeks have been such a whirlwind that it's hard to keep track.

campbellrory

rory: sure sounds like it. rory: well again, i appreciate the heads up. i couldn't imagine just casually running into you at the grocery store or something. rory: i'm still living and working at the same places, if you're trying to stay as far away as possible or something.

emsclarkes

emily: Of course, I'd never do that. emily: *typing* emily: I would never. I mean, I didn't plan on doing that. I'll do whatever you want.

campbellrory

rory: I'm simply too nostalgic. rory: How kind of you. rory: When did you get in?

emsclarkes

emily: i didn't want to assume or anything. emily: approximately 36 hours ago?? the past two weeks have been such a whirlwind that it's hard to keep track.

campbellrory

rory: [After probably four hours of deliberation on what to say] rory: Hi. Yeah, 4 years. Didn't even think you'd still have my number. rory: Oh, okay. Cool. Really cool. Welcome. rory: Thanks for letting me know.

emsclarkes

emily: I assumed you definitely didn't have mine.

emily: of course, I'd never move here without letting you know. it's more your home than mine after all.

ro 🤍

emily: Hi, It's Emily. I know we haven't talked in awhile since I moved. emily: Willard called me a few weeks ago. They offered me a position at the firm again. I just moved back to Marshall Island. emily: I don't expect you to say anything and you don't even have to reply, I just wanted to tell you.

#cannot believe she rlly just never changed the contact info that's so crazy #shes so awkward pls