Page 5 of Vying Girls (Girls of Hazelhurst #2)

And it has to be tonight. The skies are shaking with it.

Doesn’t mean I can’t toy with her first.

There’s a stain on her t-shirt from where I bumped her earlier. My body still remembers the feel of her in the toilets, when she’d tried to shove me away. She’s prickly, like a bramble bush. And I’m a masochist for wanting to get caught on her thorns.

But she’s no different. New Year’s Eve, a night that still haunts my mind, she’d done exactly that.

Dared me to kiss her. I hadn’t known what that was about; wasn’t going to let it happen.

But it’s less the challenge she offered, and more the look in her eyes.

I’d been distracted by those lips, so close to mine, cracked with lipstick.

It’s only after I remembered how the rest of her looked.

Defiant, sacrificial. She wanted me to kiss her because she knew I would hate it.

And I would. But only because I would have liked it.

I’m glad I walked away. The moment our lips grazed, a klaxon went off, acute panic flaring. She’s lucky I only spat on her. I’m a fire she doesn’t want to play with.

But the tables have turned tonight. She’s the fire I’m burning my fingertips on.

We’re dancing so close; we have no choice. It’s not a large club, too small for tonight’s turnout.

I don’t mean to spill drink on her this time, but of course she doesn’t believe that. She stops dancing, mopping at her top whilst shooting me daggers.

‘What’—she reaches out, shoving me hard—‘the fuck is your problem?’

Just one?

Doesn’t matter my intentions, I’m not sorry for it.

‘Just trying to jog your memory,’ I taunt. ‘Is it working?’

‘You’re fucking weird.’

Yeah, I’m not much feeling like myself. I’m out of control, but quietly, insidiously. The most dangerous kind of chaos.

Her motions move herself more than me. She stumbles back into Haz, who only propels her forward again.

‘Fucking make up, you two. You’re ruining the fucking night!’

I catch Tilda by the waist, flinching when her hair lashes me in the face. It smells of cherries; my palms tingle. She’s feverish beneath her t-shirt, the thing baring more skin than it covers. Some fuck pushes into her, raising his hands in apology even as he struggles to catch his footing.

‘Your girlfriend okay?’ he yells in my face, breath reeking of booze.

I tighten my hold. ‘She’s fine.’

‘Not your girlfriend,’ Tilda snaps, pushing me away. She staggers, throwing off Elly who tries to steady her. ‘I know your dad died, but that doesn’t mean you get to make me wish I was too.’

‘Woah, Tilda.’ Haz shoots her a glare.

I grit my teeth, seething at the both of them. I know Tilda’s not with it, she should have fucked off back to Hazelhurst an hour ago, but, God, it feels ugly to have her know.

She killed him. If it wasn’t for her actions, he’d still be alive.

That nest of vipers starts thrashing, and I know I need to get out of there before I thrash her.

I peer round. It’s getting rowdy in here anyway. Last venue of the evening. They know Anarchy’s going to be cancelled again next year; they’re making the most of it.

Tilda shakes her head, flouncing off before the others can cajole her back. Haz rolls her eyes but follows. I tap out a cigarette, sticking it in my mouth before turning sideways to squeeze through the crowd.

‘Going for a smoke,’ I tell Elly.

She flings her arms up, pissed we’re all ditching her.

She’ll soon run the other way, away from me and towards Tilda.

There’s no smoking area, so I creep round the building until I find a slight awning to burrow under. I pull on my smock against the deluge. It’s not watertight but keeps away the worst of it. A welcome refuge against the rest of the world.

It’s right above us now, the storm. Clapping at me, spurring me on. The stars have been smothered, the sky nothing but a black miasma. I breathe it in, a paradox against the smoke in my lungs.

Police cars drive past, stopping outside the club where students spill out, drunk-blind to the rain. Doors slam as the coppers exit, rain shining on their reflective uniforms.

I stub my cig out on the wall. That’ll be the end of the fun then. Don’t know what’s going on inside but there’s some kind of commotion, the final Anarchy challenge.

Can’t wait for the ticking off from Margot tomorrow. Or worse—Fina’s daddy.

I’m debating lighting up another when Tilda staggers round the wall. Alone for once. I eye her warily. Looking for me?

She stands under the shelter, far as she can from me. She’s not looking my way but her whole body’s tense with awareness. Her eyes are on the ground, and I see her swallow.

‘Looking kinda peaky there.’

She moans quietly, closing her eyes.

I tap a finger on the wall, still watching her. ‘Gonna hurl?’

‘Shut up,’ she gasps weakly.

I shake my head. Knew it would fucking come to this. She’s been teetering on this edge for hours. ‘Where are the others?’

‘Dunno. Dancing. Police are here.’

‘So I see.’

She ducks her head and spits on the ground, chest heaving with deep breaths. Oh yeah, she’s about to hurl alright.

‘Get it over with then.’

‘Can’t.’

I roll my eyes, suddenly pissed off. Why is she even here? It’s like the night birthed her, the devil tossing me a trick.

‘Fuck’s sake. Get here.’

I grab her to me, bending over her back to wrestle my fingers into her mouth. The only warm thing about her. She cries out, muffled around my hand, fighting my hold.

Gritting my teeth, I hold her harder. When I reach the back of her throat, she gags, body convulsing. I pull out just as she vomits, a gooey concoction of whatever poison she’s imbibed tonight. I curl my lip, stepping back to the wall. Fucking gross.

Still gasping, she wipes at her streaming eyes. Reminds me of this morning. I started my day with her and here she is to end it.

‘Better?’

She shrugs, folding her arms around herself as she shivers. ‘Dunno.’

She seems better. More alert. More of that wariness I expected in her gaze when she looks at me. Did she come to give me a seeing to? Thought’s laughable.

‘I think you might be mentally disturbed.’

I bark out a laugh. ‘You what?’

‘Really.’ She draws in a shuddering breath, cuddling into the wall. ‘I think you need to see someone.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ I turn my shoulder to the wall, willing to indulge her. ‘But wouldn’t that be a kindness? Therapy, some kind of help. Wouldn’t you rather reprisal for me? Isn’t that why you’re here?’

She frowns, eyes falling shut. She’s at risk of passing the fuck out here. ‘What?’

‘You believe in fate, don’t you? You did before?’

‘When before? Why have you been saying all this weird shit? All night, it’s like…’ She brushes sodden hair away from her face. ‘Dunno what it’s like.’

I hum, inching closer. ‘Would you like to?’

‘Like to what?’

‘Know. Be cast into the light.’

She frowns again, eyes searching mine. She looks fairly concerned, to be fair. ‘Are you high?’

I tut, putting space back between us. ‘High on something.’

I don’t expect her to follow, but she does. I doubly don’t expect her to mould her body against mine, pushing me into the wall with her paltry strength.

‘Nic,’ she says, so seriously I want to laugh, ‘why do you care so much about me?’

Care? Why do I care about her, not why do I hate her?

That’s a new one. I don’t like it. It denotes something soft, something other than what this is.

I don’t want to think about caring for Tilda.

That’s something I firmly closed the door on, way back when.

It’s deadbolted. Never to be opened again.

I can hear a knocking on it though. Some ghost from the past begging to be let out, to be avenged. I add another lock, another two locks.

Her face is tipped up to me. Her bottom lip trembles with cold, shiny and slick from the rain. I thumb a drop off her cheek.

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

She huffs out a breath, bathing my face in it. She wilts a little and I resist the urge to grab her back. But then I hear the others, Haz’s coarse voice, Elly’s supporting one, and force myself to relax.

‘There you are. We got kicked the fuck out.’ Haz grins, heedless of the rain. ‘Home time now I think, lads.’

I wait for Tilda to move but she doesn’t. There’s defiance back in her face, a scowl trying so hard to be fierce when really she’s one more drink away from being laid out.

‘Wanna move?’ I say, echoing her words from before.

‘Not until you tell me.’

Oh, I’m gonna tell her alright. I peer into her green eyes, shouting it all in my mind, willing her to get it because time’s running out.

‘Tilda, baby, wanna put her down?’ Haz touches her arm, finding humour in this whole thing.

‘No. I want her to tell me. All night—she’s made it shit.’ She glares at Haz. ‘You’ve made it shit. Everything’s just shit.’

‘Hey, babe, come on.’ Elly’s here now, soothing her from the other side. I roll my eyes to the sky. Fucking get me out of here. ‘Let’s do this when we get back. You’re freezing.’

‘Get off, Elly. I want this asshole to answer me.’

I’m saved from saying anything when someone starts bleating from a megaphone. There’re students all around us now, cowering in the rain. Club’s been kicked out and the police are here to walk us home.

‘Final ferry departs in twenty-five minutes,’ they bellow. ‘Twenty-five minutes will be the last ferry of the night. Make your way to the terminal now. Last ferry in twenty-five minutes.’

‘Fucking party poopers.’ Haz glares at them. ‘Let’s go then. Takes about that much to get there.’

I look down, grabbing Tilda’s belt loop on instinct. She was about to leave but now she hovers, uncertain. If she wants answers, she’ll have to fucking well stay for them.

‘You guys go,’ she says quietly, meeting my eyes again.

Elly reaches out. ‘Tilda—’

‘We’ll catch you up, just go!’

‘Oh, just fucking leave them,’ Haz spits, finally done with us. ‘I’m not missing the boat. I need a shower. I fucking reek of foam.’