Page 152 of Vying Girls

‘No, we just go blaming ourselves, right?’ I can’t help but jab. There’s no fire behind it, my last shred of pride making a valiant effort. ‘Until we’re convinced we’re some kind of cursed monster.’

‘Don’t turn this around on me. Actually, you know what?’ She pushes off the counter, slamming her empty bottle down on it. ‘Fuck you, fucker. Just stay the hell away from her until you’re ready to deal with shit properly.’

Then she leaves, leaving behind a maelstrom of emotions like Hurricane Harriet had just made a repeat visit. I blow out a breath, surprised at the stinging in my eyes.

When my phone buzzes, the battery all but dead after the rushed charging this morning and all the use of Google Maps trying to find Tilda’s place, I snatch it up, keen for any distraction.

Skylar: Vaults later? Bringing my blue friend xxx

Well, that would certainly help on the distraction front. What’s the alternative? Stay haunting the lodge whilst its other three residence avoid me the best they can?

Sure,I type back.No going hard though.

When she replies with a bunch of winky faces, I darken the phone. Fuck my washing. I can deal with it tomorrow. I eye my boots by the door, thinking I should probably get out of here. It’searly for the Vaults but no doubt Skylar’s already there, hooking everyone up with a night of guaranteed happiness.

I’m still staring at the kitchen table when Tilda enters, the sound of her lighter steps making the whole of me tingle before I’ve even glimpsed her.

‘Alright there?’ she says as she comes into view, glancing at the darkening windows. ‘Want a light on or something?’

I finally shake myself from my stupor, swiping up my phone as I stand up. ‘No. I’m off out.’

‘Oh. Where?’

‘Vaults with Skylar.’

Her eyes study me as I drag on a light jacket, flicking with a curious mix of jealousy and despair. I bite on my tongue to stop myself telling her that I’ve got no interest in fucking Skylar.

But me and Tilda aren’t like that. That isn’t what this is.

‘Please don’t go. Come hang out with us.’

I scoff, putting another step between us. ‘Don’t think I’m wanted, Matilda.’

‘You are,’ she whispers, her tone almost wheedling. ‘I want you.’

‘Then you’re more fucked than I thought.’ Dropping to my knees, I pull on my boots, tying the laces so roughly they bite into my hands. My voice is almost imploring when I say, ‘Don’t follow me, Tilda. I’m sick of hurting you.’

Tilda

They’d wanted me to sleep with them tonight and I had to fight to say no. It’s Wednesday, not our official night to share, but after falling in drunk after Vipers, it’s inevitable we end upin someone’s bed. Usually Elly’s since Haz doesn’t like to share hers with anyone other than me, apparently.

I just needed a night to process, to work through everything without giving into the distraction of their kisses and caresses and everything else they so freely offer. I got my fill of that earlier, talking over my shitshow of a day, cursing my stupid mother and her even stupider boyfriend.

They were worried I was going to run again, a thought so bloody laughable. I don’t want to go anywhere knowing that freak’s stalking me. My window’s shut, bedroom door locked. Haz and Elly couldn’t get in here even if they wanted to. Except, of course they could. They’d both break the door down if they had to.

It was only after our film wound down sometime after midnight that they finally departed, Haz glaring daggers of threat even as she kissed me goodnight, Elly smiling goofily as she told me again just how much she loved me.

Then there was just me and the memories of Nic from earlier. I regret all the things I hurled at her, no matter how true they were. It’s sohardto see past her nastiness sometimes, to not let it sway my opinion of me. When people reflect back how I feel about myself, it’s easy to take it as law, to let it corroborate everything my stupid brain thinks to be true.

Closing my eyes, I try thinking past all that, to the hidden vulnerabilities beneath. Despite what she says about hate-fucking, I don’t believe she would have done thatthree timesif that’s all it was.

And then there were those remorseful looks the couple of times she’s accidentally hurt me. The glass room night, that time I whacked my head, and then earlier, kissing the nail she’d just cut to the quick.

There was her coming to my rescue this morning too. She hadn’t even known about Damien, she’d just come on the off chance something might happen. Not Haz, or Elly, butNic.

And, of course, the kissing. That hadn’t been about sex, not at first. There was desperation behind those lips, her grip on my face so painfully tight, like she wanted to push me away and simplycouldn’t.

There’s no mistaking any of that for anything other than care. Even my lying brain can’t refute that.