Page 29 of Vying Girls

‘I think I want that. Like, eventually.’

I feel another wave as she breathes in and out. She’s thinking about it, I can tell.

I pick up her hand and kiss it. ‘Ready when you are, babe. No pressure.’

‘Never any pressure with you, is there?’ She scratches my head.

‘Easy-breezy, me.’

She chuckles gently, both arms around me now we’ve finished eating. The sky’s darkening quickly. It’s later in the evening than it had been the last time we were here, back in winter. Only a few short months but it feels like a lifetime. Who’d have thought we’d be here, like this, now? Not me, that’s for damn sure.

‘Kinda looks stormy,’ Tilda comments.

‘Not supposed to.’

‘Forecast’s been wrong before. Especially on this island.’

‘True,’ I concede. ‘Wish it would just be summer already.’

‘Not looking forward to the storm?’

‘No.’

She runs her lips over my hair. ‘Worried about not being able to get home?’

I sigh at her perceptivity. ‘Kind off. Sod’s law says that’s when it all kicks off.’

She murmurs sympathetically. It’s not Mum this time, but Grandad. Blocked colostomy bag. Pain, inability to eat. Not the first time this has happened, but it requires a few days in hospital and another fight to get the bag repositioned to stop it happening again. Just never bloody stops.

He’s due in tomorrow and not happy about it. Hopefully it’ll pass along with the oncoming storm.

‘Hey.’ Tilda nudges me, new energy in her voice. ‘I think it’s time for your surprise. Some cheering up. You ready?’

I nod wordlessly. If she can take my mind off this niggling worry, more power to her.

‘Budge,’ she says, nudging me again.

I get out the way, settling against the pillar as she positions herself before the window.

She giggles uncertainly as she fiddles with the buttons on her shirt. ‘Nervous for this.’

I sit up straighter when the shirt falls to the floor. Her top follows, then her jeans, doing an adorable little hop when they get stuck on her legs.

Then she’s standing in nothing but a matching lacy bra and knickers.

Not black, but blue. My favourite colour.

‘It’s that dusty blue you like,’ she says almost shyly, adjusting the knickers.

I nod, still not able to form words.

She tilts her head with a smile. ‘Does she speak?’

I shake my head. Right now, no she does not.

Tilda creeps over, getting to her knees and winding her arms around my neck. ‘But I was so hoping to hear you make noise.’

Biting my lip, I glance at the stairwell. God, she feels so hot, her naked skin startingly soft.