Page 120 of Vying Girls

It does feel surreal tonight. This whole room, cut from some fantasy novel, seems suspended from the real world. We keep finding ourselves in these dreamlike pockets, like reality’s struggling to piece us together. Like us meeting again goes against some unknown laws.

I flex the hand that’s in Tilda’s, worried it’s sweating. Tilda smiles, her hips skimming mine, her other hand laid unmoving on my shoulder. Her back’s warm under the velvet, despite her constant insistence to the contrary. My fingers twitch. All of me is twitchy. Not sure if it’s with the urge to pull Tilda closer or to run away.

‘Did you like my present then?’ she asks quietly.

‘Did I like the reminder of one of the most formative rejections of my life?’

Her face falls in an instant, my heart involuntarily clenching at the sight.

‘I didn’t even think.’ She rolls her eyes at herself. ‘I’m sorry.Ugh.Why am I such a fucking fuck up?’

I frown at her tone, stamping down on the urge to correct her. But I can’t, can I? When Tilda fucks up, she does it colossally.

‘I promise I didn’t mean anything like that.’

‘Then what did you mean?’

Her lips fall closed, eyes turning wary. ‘I just wanted you to know…’

‘What?’

‘Just—you know.’ She looks away, hand flexing agitatedly on my shoulder. ‘When I said it wasn’t a bad thing if…I guess I just wanted you to know I feel, you know, the same.’ She blows out a breath. ‘It was just a good idea in my head at the time. Poetic, maybe. I feel bad about…now that I’m, you know. I obviously didn’t know you liked girls back then. I thought you were just messing around.’

‘My first lesbian heartbreak,’ I murmur, perversely enjoying her discomfort. ‘I might have come out years earlier if not for that early rejection. Talk about core fucking memory.’

She closes her eyes, self-disgust seeping from her pores. She fucking reeks of it. The force takes me back.

‘Relax.’ I squeeze her hand, finally relenting. ‘I’m kidding. I didn’t know I liked girls back then. I was fucking ten.’ I fall into her glittery eyes, feeling her tiny puffs of breath. ‘I just knew I likedyou.’

‘And now?’

‘Now? Now I fucking hate you.’

Tilda doesn’t even blink. ‘Right. Always dance this close to your enemies, do you?’

‘You know what they say. Keep your enemies close and all that.’

‘You can hate someone and still…you know.’

I hum, ignoring the warmth suffusing my body. ‘Have you ever hate-fucked before, Matilda?’

She shakes her head, eyes wide and guileless like she hasn’t spent the day fucking two people.

‘It wouldn’t start like this. Too obvious. Too opportune. It would be unexpected, enough to knock your lungs out with the shock of it. Something that leaves you reeling for days, drowning in regret and that relentless, nagging urge to do it over…and over…again.’

Tilda swallows. ‘Sounds like you have experience.’ Her thumb moves on my shoulder, licking up the edge of my neck.

‘In my imagination, maybe.’

‘It doesn’t have to stay in our imaginations.’

Our.Like she’s been thinking about it too.

‘Like I said. It wouldn’t start like this.’

She tightens her grip on me when I start to pull away. ‘Then how would it start? I want to know.’

I pull away from her, levelling her with a glare. ‘Don’t play games with me, Tilda. I can’t promise I’ll play nice.’