Page 47 of Vying Girls (Girls of Hazelhurst #2)

She gives one groan through her teeth, the sound vibrating right through me.

My pussy spasms. I bite down on her fingers when it does it again, then again, my orgasm slamming into me with a force that surprises me.

Nic stiffens, only her pussy moving in frantic strokes as she groans out her own orgasm.

She’s sitting up before it’s even over. She takes her damp hand and wipes it down me.

‘Don’t do that again,’ she says, the warning weakened by the breathlessness in her voice.

I smile, stretching my arms above my head and moaning at the pull in my clit. ‘We’re definitely going to win the tourney now. I can feel it.’

Nic shakes her head, my heart doing a giddy flip when she reaches out to playfully flick the tip of my nose.

‘We’re not making that a habit.’

‘Sure, Nicole.’ I snuggle into the pillow, closing my eyes with a sigh. ‘Whatever you say.’

Nic

The countryside blurs past in a kaleidoscope of green, grey and brown.

Gone is the sun from yesterday, probably our saving grace after how shit-faced the team got last night.

Playing in the sun is no fun when you’re hungover.

At least I was saved from having to chew them out.

Coach took that honour, leaving me to glare appropriately when she’d finished her lecture.

We still won, the girls at the back of the coach riding the high with shrieks and music and probably more alcohol.

I’d join them if not for the slumbering form beside me, pinning me to the window.

Never been so mesmerised by the miserable countryside.

Anything to block out the weight of Tilda’s head on my shoulder, the grind in my teeth as I fight to shove her off.

She’s taking liberties. Two instances of weakness and she thinks we’re back.

The past erased. Wounds knitted. I’ve done well shoving it all away.

I’m a master at it. But I’m not infallible.

I’m weak, that much is obvious. She’s a temptation I can’t resist. A single nudge and I’m falling over myself to fall over her.

I’ve spent the last hour building up resolve.

Hurtling towards Hazelhurst. Back to normality.

The dark threat of Damien, the memories that come with it.

And honestly, I’m hurt Josephina hasn’t called.

Maybe he’s twisted her mind against me, maybe she just doesn’t care.

I doubt I’m anything more than a stain in her memory.

Like the stain Tilda is in mine.

She sits up sluggishly, stretching her arms with a little mew that makes my clit twitch.

Of all the things to fucking happen. If I didn’t think the universe hated me before, this confirms it.

She’s got Elly, she’s got Haz. Why must she have me too?

Why do I still hold a torch for the girl who should have been my first kiss?

I snort softly. Suppose there’s some kind of irony there.

‘What’s so funny?’

I turn my face back to the window, shaking my head.

Tilda’s still for a moment. ‘Well, that lasted.’

The sarcasm in her tone nettles me. I fold my arms, so fucking ready to be off this coach. Back amongst the trees with the wolves and waves. Except even my tent’s tainted, the ghosts of our pleasure taking up permanent residence.

‘Did something happen?’

I snort again. ‘Something happened alright. How’d you think we got here?’

Tilda sighs. ‘Always two steps back with you. What about spring?’ she asks quietly.

‘I’ve spent the last ten years hating you, Tilda, that’s not just going to go away.’

‘And I’ve spent it mourning you,’ she snaps. ‘Like a fucking idiot.’

I hear her sniff, the grind in my teeth reaching tinnitus levels. Not tears. Not whatever makes her cut. I’ll chop off her hands before I see her do that to herself. Even if I’m the cause, the puppeteer pulling the strings on her pain.

‘I thought we were getting somewhere,’ she says after a moment. ‘Like properly this time.’

‘Why, because I came on you a couple of times? This isn’t a fairytale, cutie. There’s no going anywhere when the past is always fucking here.’

I feel her eyes on me. ‘So, is this about Damien? Have you heard something?’

‘No.’

‘And that’s what’s bothering you?’

I stay silent. There’s so much bothering me I’m not sure I could find the words.

Tilda sighs again, slumping back in her seat. ‘Well, thanks for letting me sit next to you anyway. Didn’t fancy throwing up at the back. Do you remember when I did that day we went to the beach?’

‘We didn’t get to the beach.’

‘Yeah,’ she chuckles. ‘Ruined the whole day, didn’t I? I wasn’t used to cars. Mum didn’t drive.’

I don’t remember the day being ruined. I remember the pallidness of Tilda’s face, Dad’s set jaw as he tried not to snap at her for throwing up. I was glad when Tilda insisted on turning around. It meant we could go home where I could look after her.

‘Do you also remember—?’

‘Stop.’ I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing down that feeling of care.

Fucking Damien. He doesn’t understand the devil he’s let out in our midst. I should be punishing her, atoning her, anything to avenge the child I could have been. Instead I’m forced to keep her close, to worry, to reopen the doors to a past I’ve spent years forgetting.

‘I was glad we never got to the beach,’ Tilda says, sounding strangely faraway. ‘Didn’t want him seeing me in a swimming costume.’

I swing my face to her, heart constricting at her loveliness in full view. It’s so hard blocking it out—the sounds she makes when she comes, the little divot in her forehead, those heavy, sultry eyes. Now I’ve had a taste, I’m terrified I’ll only want more.

‘Are you really going to go there?’

‘It’s you who goes there, Nic. Every time. I just want us to be friends again. Or, you know— more.’

I scoff. ‘You catch some gay feelings and you’re ready to fuck every girl?’

‘No. Just you. Just them.’ Her eyes flash.

‘And it’s not just fucking. Not for you either.

’ She holds up a palm when I open my mouth to protest. ‘Save it. I don’t want to hear it.

’ She blows out a long sigh. ‘Does make me wonder though, about the past. About…us. We were obsessed with each other. I’ve never known friendship like it.

Not before, not after. I wonder if our parents thought anything about it or they were too wrapped up in each other to care. ’

‘Dunno. Can’t ask Dad, can I? Why don’t you go and ask your mum?’

‘Alright,’ Tilda says with quiet resolve. ‘I will.’

Another couple of hours and we’re finally on Hazelhurst soil.

My chest loosens when Tilda’s roped into helping Coach lug equipment back to the sports centre.

If I’m fast, I can grab a quick shower at the lodge and beat it back to the tent.

Gonna move the fucker too. No doubt she’ll get it in her mind to find me.

My phone starts buzzing as I hit the forest path. I retrieve it with a sigh, thinking it might be Tilda begging me to wait for her .

But it’s an unknown mobile number that shows on the screen. My heart jumps, the beat of it loud in my ears. I know without answering who it’ll be.

Clearing my throat, I put the phone to my ear. ‘Hello?’

‘Um, hi, Nicole? Hey. It’s Josephina.’