Page 14 of Vying Girls

There’s a slight furrow in her brow. Her mouth parts, maybe to say something, but she’s interrupted by the drunken screams of other students. As wet as us, those useless white t-shirts clinging.

‘There you are. We’re not the only ones to miss the ferry.’

Tilda turns back to the inn. ‘I can’t afford a room.’

I chuckle, encouraging her on. ‘My treat.’

She’s like a puppet, moving where I make her, those dull eyes blinking at nothing. I snag us a room easily enough, student discount and everything.

I pull Tilda up the stairs, the old, worn carpet the colour of blood. We’re on the top floor, up a tiny staircase that’s probably caused more than a few broken bones. No matter. There’s a nice sea view to compensate.

Apart from the wind shaking the windows, the patter of rain on glass, it’s dead silent in the room. Like Tilda’s not even here. Knees pulled to her chest on the bed, silent as a mouse. If I turned my back, I can almost pretend I’m alone. I do just that, not afraid she’ll run now. She’s mine until morning.

I get the shitty electric heater going, trying to peel off my jeans. Wet denim’s just fucking awful. I drag over a chair, not trusting the heater not to catch my clothes.

I’m down to my underwear when I feel eyes on me, body goosebumping under her gaze.

‘You don’t wear boxers?’

I frown. ‘No. Don’t like them.’

She rests her head on her knees, still watching. But it’s a vacant kind, devoid of consequence. ‘How come you aren’t cold all the time? Being that skinny.’

‘Magic.’

She blinks blearily, watching me hang my clothes. Just in my briefs and bra now, both damp and itchy as fuck.

‘Do you believe in magic?’

I huff out a breath. The significance of that question, she has no idea. She taught me magic, that pragmatic, sullen kid who saw the world in only shades of grey. Tilda was a rainbow, showing me colour and glitter and a love I’ve both been running to and away from ever since.

‘Once upon a time.’

‘Same. As a kid.’

I catch her eyes. ‘I know.’

‘What?’ Rubbing her face into her arms, she groans. ‘Fuck, my head is killing.’

I nod to her hair. ‘Take that thing out.’

‘What thing?’

‘This.’I lunge over the bed, yanking the scrunchy from her high ponytail.

‘Ow!Fuck.’She reaches a hand to her scalp, face creased in pain.

‘That used to work on you as a kid too.’ I smile at her confused expression.‘Magic and scrunchies.’

‘How do you know anything like that?’ Before I can answer, she blows out an explosive breath, legs jiggling. ‘I’m so fucking cold, I can’t concentrate.’

‘Take your clothes off and get under the covers. I won’t look. Not like yourbuddies.’

‘They’re not my buddies. They’re my…well, Elly’s my girlfriend.’

She trips over the word, the fucking het. Swear to God, if she breaks Elly’s heart one of these days…

‘Does she know that?’