Page 77 of Vying Girls

‘Hurricane party, baby.’ Haz grins, another cushion thudding at her feet. ‘Go grab the booze, will you.’

‘But England doesn’t get hurricanes,’ I call back, grabbing the giant bottle of house rum and an unopened Coke.

‘Just go with it, Tilda. Fuck’s sake.’

I hand her the bottles with a smile. ‘Haz, you’re adorable.’ I peck her lips. ‘Wanting a girly sleepover.’

‘That’s me. Regular girly pop. Wanna get your duvet? Pillows too. Just chuck them over the railing.’

‘Aye aye, Captain.’

I screw my nose up at the mess on my bed when I enter my room. I need to do a reset. Maybe even a deep clean since I’ve got nothing better to do this weekend. Between the nights I spend in Haz or Elly’s bed, my own room has become nothing more than a dumping ground, pretty much how it was before I moved in.

I toss my pillow, leaning over to scoop up the pile of uni crap on the duvet. A notebook and a couple of pens slip to the floor, but I’m too focussed on saving my tablet from the same fate.

I get the bedding into the corridor, kicking it to the landing railing. ‘Incoming,’ I warn as I push it over the edge. It lands with athunkon the cushions. As Elly arranges it along with her own, I dash back to my room to change into my pyjamas. I’m sick of wearing a bra, ready to snuggle down in the giant bed they’re making. It’s a cute idea. It really is a blast living with those two.

Once I’ve changed, I quickly pick up my things from the floor. Now we’re pretty much done with filming, there’s only the coursework side of things left, mostly from She Means Business and my other modules. So much notetaking. So many random pieces of paper I doubt I’ll make sense of again.

A notecard near my bedside table catches my eye. I don’t recognise the floral embossing, nor the handwriting on it. It’sdefinitely not mine, the words chilling me to my core as they register.

Tell Nicole time’s ticking.

–D

I glance at the window as a gust of wind shakes it. I close the curtains quickly, adrenaline coursing through me.

This is from him? But how the fuck did it get in my room?

I look around, searching for some kind of clue. Has he been in here or was it slipped into my bag at uni? Both options are terrifying.

I run upstairs with it, groaning when I find Nic’s room empty. The scent of shower gel permeates the corridor and I hear the pattering of the shower.

I bang on the door. ‘Nic!’

There’s no response. The shower carries on running.

With a sigh, I return to her room and sit on the bed, prepared to wait.

I run my eyes over and over the short message. I felt threatened before but this has just increased things by a thousand. I eye the darker corners of her room, for the first time feeling unsafe in the lodge. It’s a big place; he could be anywhere—if he was even here at all.

Eventually the shower shuts off and the door opens, steam whipping down the corridor. Eyes meeting mine, Nic enters the room and closes the door. She’s dressed in pinstriped pyjama bottoms and an oversized t-shirt, towel drying her hair with one hand.

‘Where’s the fucking fire?’

‘Did you do this?’ I toss the note at her, watching it flutter to the floor. ‘To wind me up?’

She picks it up, the hand in her hair stilling as the words sink in.

‘Where did you find this?’

‘On my bed!’

Nic looks at me, eyes pinning me where I stand.

‘It was with my uni stuff. I don’t know where it came from. Is it from him?’

‘I’d say that’s pretty clear.’ She glares, clearly offended I accused her first.