Page 37 of Vying Girls (Girls of Hazelhurst #2)

Tilda

I jolt awake when something hits the bed. Lifting my head, I spot my hockey stick, still in its bag beside me, and Nic at the door holding her own.

‘Um. Hi?’

‘Get up. We’re gonna go practise.’

I sit up sluggishly, sighing when I glimpse the state of me. Elly had wanted to see my latest tattoo, which of course meant removing all my clothes down to my knickers and tank top, sans bra. ‘I was napping, Nic.’

She scoffs. ‘Are you fucking eighty?’

I pull my hockey stick bag towards me, playing with the zip. ‘Why do you want to go play now?’

‘Because. Coach cancelled, again, and Varsity’s creeping up.’

‘Coach cancelled because her dad’s sick,’ I remind her.

She raises her eyebrows. ‘Yeah? And Varsity’s soon.’

I shake my head. ‘Well, can you at least let me get dressed first?’

Nic nods, eyes skittering over my body. I hug my knees to my chest, goosebumping under her gaze.

I feel my nipples tighten, my clit pulsing once in response.

So strange, to think she might find me attractive.

She’s shite at hiding it, despite her insistent animosity, but it hits different now knowing who she is to me.

It also makes a lot of the past make sense.

‘Ten minutes,’ she says. ‘I’ll wait for you downstairs.’

I wait a beat before uncurling from the bed.

My mind’s still in nap mode, all soft and out of it.

I yawn as I get dressed. Why does she want to practise with me anyway?

Is it because it’s simply more effective than going it alone, or is this some kind of olive branch she’s extending?

I didn’t even feel as much hate as usual.

She’s chatting with Haz in the kitchen when I finally make it down. My mind softens even more at the sight of that black-swathed cutie-pie. I give her a kiss as I pass, grinning at the smile she can’t keep off her face.

Just adorable. Lighter. That’s how she seems ever since the weekend.

I think it’s the tattoo, the one she keeps demanding peeks of.

The bandage is off now, free for all to see.

I’ve spotted Nic eyeing it curiously. She doesn’t approve, muttering something about cursing ourselves. Good job me and Haz don’t give a rip.

‘Have fun kids,’ she quips, tossing something yummy-smelling in a wok. ‘I’ll have dinner ready for you motherfuckers when you get back.’

The weather’s been nice ever since the storms passed. It feels like a prelude to summer rather than winter holding on for dear life, choking the island with its claws. It’s always about five degrees warmer on the mainland, something that never makes sense to me.

‘Where are we going?’ I ask Nic.

She walks with her hands in the pockets of a sleeveless hoodie, those hairy pins of hers sticking out of loose cotton shorts.

‘Pitches. Assuming it’ll be free if practice is cancelled.’

I grunt. Makes sense, I just wanted to say something to break the silence.

I feel like a happy little puppy inside, honoured that her most demanding master wants to spend a little time with her.

There’s still some unease, that tingling, thrumming awareness that makes me feel awkward and tongue-tied.

Nic’s a naturally quiet person, I remind myself. She doesn’t need me to gab on.

She opens the gate when we get there. The other pitches are in use but ours is empty, the one at the far end. I trail behind her, tossing my stuff down with hers on the bench.

She pulls a ball from her pocket. ‘We’re against each other.’

‘Naturally.’

Her eyes flash as she tosses it down, nipping it back and forth with her stick as she waits for me to sort myself. The walk helped wake me up a bit, but I’m still feeling hazy.

‘Not got all day,’ she murmurs.

‘Alright, Coach.’ I get into position before her, waving my stick along the ground, getting a bend in my knees. ‘So, what, we’re just tackling?’

‘What else would we do?’

‘Dunno, warmups?’

Nic smiles, more of a smirk. ‘Alright. Five laps then.’

I shoot her a look.

‘It’s fine.’ She waves a hand. ‘Walk over was enough. Let’s just get on.’

Jogging to the side of the pitch, she kicks some abandoned cones into place. ‘That’s my goal, that’s yours.’

I nod, willing my competitive streak to surface. Fucking daytime naps. They’re a killer.

When she gives the signal, I launch forward, not quick enough to secure the ball as she spins it in the direction of her goal.

I give a breathless tut, her long legs eating the distance and easily sending the ball soaring through the cones.

‘One-nil,’ she declares quietly.

‘Yeah.’ I run a hand through my hair, heart pounding with the sudden exertion. ‘I got that.’

She gives my stick an aggressive tap as she falls back into position.

‘Would it help if I was further away?’ she asks tauntingly. ‘Gave you the ball first?’

‘Yeah, actually, it would.’

She sails it my way. I catch it with my stick, eyes bouncing between the turf and Nic a few paces ahead.

She pauses with her stick leant against her, dragging both hands through her hair as she slips on a headband.

It opens her up, making her human, not helping at all with the tongue-tied thing.

I take back what I thought the night of the storm.

She is fucking pretty, especially when she’s not hiding herself.

She takes up her stick again when she’s done, a distinct glint in her eyes and a smile, a fucking teeth-showing, face-lighting smile.

And it’s not just my clit pulsing this time, but my bloody heart.

My stomach caves in, breath fled from my lungs.

Shit. Fucking shit.

I watch her advance on me with wide eyes. My feet are stuck to the ground, the whole of me feeling like stone apart from this wild, ecstatic galloping in my chest.

Really? Her?

But—

I have no chance to finish that thought before she’s on me, tackling me dirty, sending me flying backwards onto the turf. I whack my head, hard, the wind knocked out of me.

My vision dims for a scary moment, mouth goldfishing as I try desperately to take in oxygen. I hear Nic curse, then she’s on her knees, eyes flitting over my prone body. There’s no smile on her face now. She’s wearing the same expression she had the night she smashed the glass room.

It’s becoming familiar, these little cracks in her armour. If she’s not careful, I’m going to start thinking she cares about me.

I don’t care about you, Tilda, you stupid fuck.

I run the line over and over in my head. It’s perversely steadying. Known. Reliable. Nothing like this desperately unwanted revelation. I concentrate on the pain in my skull, the idea that I might haemorrhage and die or something.

‘We need to get you to the nurse.’

‘I’m literally fine.’

‘We don’t fuck with head injuries. You know what Coach says.’

‘Coach isn’t here.’ I groan as I sit up. No dizziness, just pain. A good sign. ‘It’s fine. Not like it’s concrete.’

‘As good as.’

‘Why do you even care?’ I look at her for her answer, regretting it when that pretty, exposed face is suddenly inches from my own. ‘I ruined your life, remember?’

She frowns, backing off a little. I don’t know why I’m being a bitch. I feel like I might even cry. Probably just the shock of hurting myself.

I wipe my stinging eyes. ‘I’m fine,’ I say more softly. ‘Let’s just go home.’

Nic studies me, on the cusp of saying no, I can tell.

I really can’t be fucked with a trip to the nurse.

It’s ages away, in some cold part of the castle.

Besides, I need some breathing room. I feel weird and exposed, probably creeping Nic out with how much I’m staring. But shit, I can’t seem to stop.

I sigh, burying my head in my knees. This is really, really, really the last thing I need.

‘Come on,’ she says quietly, helping me up. ‘You start feeling sick or anything, tell me. Also, how the fuck did that happen?’

I shake my head. ‘Literally don’t know.’

‘You better be more on it for Varsity. We’re winning that fucker.’

‘Yes, Coach.’

We decided not to tell the others about my tumble. I’m not sure what Nic’s reasons for that were, I just didn’t want to rile Haz up, saving Nic from that particular flavour of scorn.

I need quiet tonight. After a rowdy dinner of fajitas and nachos, I’m getting that quiet with my head resting on Elly’s chest, all her limbs wrapped around me in a cocoon of comfort.

Haz is at the end of the sofa, pressing her thumbs into my feet.

In my periphery, Nic’s sprawled in the armchair, reading a book rather than watching the drama on the telly.

Every time my eyes droop, she shoots me a glare. Don’t know what her problem is but it’s not helping with the pickle I’m in. In fact, all I want to do is fall on my bed and groan into my pillow until these feelings go away.

Scooting up, I kiss Elly’s softer-than-soft lips. ‘Gonna head. I’m knackered.’

‘Five minutes and I’ll follow so no one’s suspicious?’ Haz offers, giving my foot one last squeeze.

I narrow my eyes, pointing a finger at her. ‘No. You stay. I need to sleep.’

I jog up the stairs, taking a quick pit stop in the bathroom.

I play with my hair as I brush my teeth, scrutinising my appearance in the mirror.

When I first moved into this place, I couldn’t care less about what I looked like.

It wasn’t ever a thought. The last couple of months though, I’ve grown self-conscious, in that cute, want-them-to-like-me way.

Always making sure my makeup’s fixed, that I’m wearing my sexiest, tightest clothing.

Eyeing the baggy hoodie I’m in, one of Elly’s, I snort around my toothbrush. This time of night, I suppose I get a little lax.

I’m reaching for my bedroom door handle when I’m shoved from the side, my fatigue making me stumble. Nic reaches out, pushing me along the corridor towards the back staircase.

‘Do you literally mind?’

She nods me up the stairs. ‘Go.’

‘Why? Nic, I was about to go to bed.’

Herding me into her room, she securely shuts the door.

‘Go on then,’ she says.

‘Go on what?’

‘Go to bed.’