Page 127 of Vying Girls

My eyes sting, too scared to blink in case Tilda notices.

‘Everything turned ugly,’ I say hoarsely.

Tilda blinks sleepily. She doesn’t need to ask what I mean. It’s ugly for her too. I’ve made it ugly. Turned an already awful situation into something unbearable. No wonder she cuts herself. I’d have slayed myself for less.

‘Do you know what else is ugly?’ she mumbles, voice heavy with sleep. ‘Trees in winter. Dead leaves on the ground. When it’s dark at four o’clock.’ She closes her eyes for a moment, rubbing her cheek into the pillow. ‘But guess what happens after? Trees bud. Leaves turn green. The days get longer… Things don’t have to stay ugly, Nic.’

I search her eyes, able to see every orange fleck amid the green. ‘We just have to wait for spring?’

She smiles. ‘Yeah. It’ll be here before we know it.’

CHAPTER 21

Tilda

Despite Coach’s pointed warning, the bar is packed with hockey players either celebrating or commiserating the penultimate day of the summer tournament. Besides Varsity, this tourney is what we train for all year, drawing competing universities from all across the country.

Thankfully, today, we fall into the former camp. If we don’t mess up too much tomorrow, we’re undoubtedly going to win this. It’s made our girls reckless. I’m only on my third and final drink, but some of this lot are going to be hanging bad come tomorrow.

I check the time on my phone. It’s late and I’m tired after the thrashing we doled out. I slurp the remnants of my vodka andcoke, catching Nic’s eyes. She looks away and knocks back the rest of whatever she’s drinking.

Something buzzes through me at our tacit communication, so effective we might as well have spoken out loud. Didn’t take us long to return to that point. Mum used to call us the psychic sisters with how often we finished each other’s sentences.

Then a different buzz shoots through me as I weave with her through the packed bar. I don’t know if its Damien’s looming threat or something else that made Nic insist on us sharing a room.

Am I hoping for that something else?

It’s been a couple of weeks since our birthday and all that came after it. We’ve not spoken of it; hadn’t thought we would. The others don’t know. It’s our little secret, something binding, something unspoken but just as potent. Every time we’re in a room together, I feel it. Even when we’re not together, it’s there, our invisible thread pulsing through campus. It’s similar to how I feel with the others, some up and running connection. Like a charged powerline, a spell we unknowingly weaved.

I don’t know how Nic feels about it all, but she’s been less snippy than usual. Quieter, distant. Probably fighting off demons, the ones telling her she’s supposed to hate me. I still feel the disdain, only it’s softer. So fragile I’m not sure it won’t crack again.

Since Nic’s captain, she got dibs on a single room. She caught my eyes after that announcement, the look in them telling me I’ll be sharing it with her, like it or not.

Judging by the anticipation building in my belly, I’d say I like it.

She gets the door unlocked, releasing a sigh as she pushes inside. ‘Fuck, I’m knackered.’

‘You and me both. We killed it though.’

She scoffs lightly. ‘Just wait until Varsity.’

‘Honestly can’t wait.’

We’re silent as we set about getting changed for bed, the air in the room growing thicker by the second. I will my slight vodka buzz to stick around, trying my best to keep my mind loose. It’s just Nic. No matter what does or doesn’t happen, it’s just Nic. My former shadow, myself outside of myself. I don’t need to be nervous.

She’s ready before me, falling over the bed in her stripy pyjama bottoms and t-shirt. ‘Call this a double?’ she mutters, looking down the length of the bed dispassionately. ‘Cold feet tonight.’

I smile, refraining from making some comment about how cosy we’re going to be. It’s obvious that’s on her mind. I watch her surreptitiously in the mirror as I remove my makeup. She scrolls through her phone, one ankle turning in slow rotations.

My body simmers at the sight. All those instances of hyperawareness, had it actually been attraction? Had I just been dense, so new in the sapphic sphere, not to know any better? I mean, it’s Nic. She was practically my stepsister at one point. The girl who grew up believing I ruined her entire life. It’s no wonder my mind blanked on anything more. It still feels surreal. Surreal but strangely inevitable now I’m seeing clearly. To me, anyway. Nic’s still resisting, if there is anything to resist for her. She might have enjoyed our spontaneous half fuck, but I doubt it was anything more than a weak moment for her.

She cycles through the light switches as I make my way over to the bed, her face set in a scowl until she hits the right one.

‘So fucking techno,’ she grouses. ‘They’re fuckinglights.’

‘Alright, Granny. Keep your wig on.’

She keeps the soft headboard lights on, wincing a little as she pulls her straightened leg to her chest.