Tricky Girls (Girls of Hazelhurst #1)

7. CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 7

Nic

Red sears into my eyes, darkening shadows, dousing skin. Even with them closed, red’s all I see.

And closed I keep them because, fuck, I don’t want to see.

Vipers is heaving tonight, the press of writhing bodies protecting against the chill outside. Most nights, the lights are purple but Wednesdays and Saturdays, it’s like the place has been Carried.

When I next dare open my eyes, Haz and Elly are gone and I’m stuck in a pit of bouncing freshers.

Forcing my way through, I head to the double staircase. Even here people are sat, the steps glistening with spilt drinks. Falling down them at least once is a rite of passage.

The first floor affords me a view of the whole club, LED lasers bouncing on the tops of everyone’s heads as though feverishly searching for a target.

I can think of one. A couple, actually.

Procuring a 35cl bottle of vodka from the quieter bar up here, I return to the railing.

Up until this week, I haven’t drunk in months, preferring to tackle my nights with a clear head.

Now a clear head is a thing of pain.

Probably best Haz and Elly are off elsewhere. Can’t be doing with their judgement.

The vodka is fucking awful on first sip, having not pregamed with the others. I lean my arms on the railing and drink until the burn subsides. The LEDs blur, faces indistinguishable from the next. My body begins to hum and I wonder how I’ve gone this long without.

A want for a better life, that’s how.

But instead the old one’s returned.

I scrub a hand over my face, a harsh sigh going unheard under the bassy music.

They’re all smiling down there. Alcohol makes a caricature of everyone. It’s not true happiness. Wouldn’t have to drink if it was.

Giving into the thing I’ve been resisting all night, I let my eyes bounce from face to face.

Don’t even know which one I’m searching for. There’re snakes everywhere. Slithering in the undergrowth. Ready to strike. I’m hardly safe hiding up here.

A whole year and I never saw her at Vipers. Now I’m seeing her in the face of every brunette I see.

Tilda, then.

She’s the snake I seek tonight.

The lesser of two evils, or the greater?

It all started with her, after all.

If not for her childish lies, none of the rest would’ve come to fruition.

I’d still be happy. Safe. Unsullied.

I shift against the railing, another breath escaping me.

A heavy restlessness infuses my body along with the alcohol. After a half-hearted scan for Haz and Elly, I make my way back downstairs.

A hand grabs my wrist as I weave through the throng, and I vaguely recognise the eyes that meet mine.

But I’m not here anymore, my mind fixed on one thing only.

I pull on the black hoodie I’ve wrapped around my waist, flipping the hood against the rain.

That, and so no one can see me wind my way towards the halls of residences.

I slow as I come up to the first building. They all look the bloody same, all red-bricked with white trim. Far newer than the castle, but older than the lodges. Built in the 1700s, I think. No wonder they’re falling apart. And considering who they house, no wonder there’s not much upkeep.

I’m as ignorant as the rest of them, but even I see the discrepancies between those who bought their way in and the scholarship lot.

I suppose after everything, Tilda’s mum couldn’t scrape her way to the top again.

These paved roads are as busy as the forest, students walking along them in packs. Headed to Vipers no doubt, or maybe a shindig in the woods. Little rain wouldn’t stop that.

In the courtyards of each house are large signs denoting their names. I pass Ludwig, Saxilby, Archer, until I come up to Portia House.

Half the lampposts are out, empty pasta pots from the campus shop collecting rain on the grass, cider bottles lined up on one of the benches.

Haz and Elly and their big mouths. Because of them, I know more than I ever care to about that traitor, including where she lives.

The lack of light goes in my favour. With that and my hood up, I’m able to scour the edges of the courtyard in complete anonymity. Even the people passing don’t glance my way. Just a spectre on the way to its haunt.

I steer clear of the front doors. Someone would let me in, but I don’t want to be that close. I prefer the rain and the cold. Clutched around the bottle in my pocket, my hand turns numb. I pay it no mind, gaze high on the windows of Portia House. Something tells me Tilda will be on the top floor, a choice I’d make too.

I take another turn around the courtyard, watching shadows move in the windows. There’s a flat party on the second floor; a girl hugs a man on the third—a doting parent visiting.

I take a break in the shadows of an evergreen, leaning against its trunk. Rain pelts down harder. I remove the bottle and take a swig. Half down already. Another half and I’ll be making decisions I don’t want to. I flick my eyes around as fast as those red LED lasers until—

There.

Third floor. Tucked away in the corner.

She’s at her desk, face illuminated by a laptop screen.

My teeth bite down on the rim of the bottle until my gums ache.

She wears a black beanie. The heating must still be out, her hair blending into her dark jumper. Black on black on black.

My breath leaves as a white stream as I slowly release it. I was shivering before but now my blood flows red hot.

How the fuck can she be here?

Branches rustle to my right and I catch the gleam of the eyes I’d seen back at the club.

Skylar, all four-foot-eleven inches of her, looks at me briefly before raising her gaze to Tilda’s window.

For a minute she doesn’t say anything, her blue eyes, the only light thing about her, assessing in that sly, shrewd way of hers.

She joins me by the trunk. ‘Cig?’

I flash her my vodka. ‘Trade?’

She raises the bottle to her lips, eyes on Tilda’s window. After taking a mouthful, she flicks them curiously to the label. ‘Was half expecting that to be water.’

‘Always expect the unexpected with me,’ I joke dully.

‘Already do.’ She passes it back with a smile, stretching the tattoos on her cheeks. ‘Don’t want any nasty surprises.’

I huff out a chuckle, my thumb rubbing at the last tattoo she gave me. Skylar’s been an apprentice at the campus tattoo shop ever since she landed here. Half of my tats she’s inked. She must have seen about every inch of my body, inside as well as out.

Haz’s and Elly’s too, in fact.

There’s not many girls or boys here that Skylar’s not bedded or tried to. She’s the biggest slut on this island and completely unapologetic about it. Unapologetic about everything. Even after a year I’m not sure if I actually like the girl or not.

If anyone had to bust my little stalking spree, I don’t mind it being her. I can’t imagine there’s much that fazes her.

Plus, she’s a really good fuck. Points for that.

I take in her outfit, a single black hoodie coming down to mid-thigh. There’s probably shorts or a dress under there somewhere, but you never know with Skylar. She seems to think her tattoos work as good as any clothing, her body decked head to toe in them. Can’t deny they’re not hot.

I return my gaze to Tilda’s window, wondering if she’s procured any in the last decade.

‘Who is she?’

I shrug, dragging in more smoke so I don’t have to answer.

‘Someone you’re hot for?’

‘Hot like the Arctic tundra.’

Skylar goes quiet again, leaning her head on my arm as she contemplates Tilda’s window.

‘You’re so fucking small,’ I huff, looking down the length of our bodies.

‘Piss off.’ She snatches my cigarette and draws from it. ‘Bean poll.’ Holding my gaze, she nods to Tilda. ‘What the fuck did she do then?’

‘Like I’d tell you.’

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t push. She knows me enough to know she’ll get nothing if she does.

We spend an interminable amount of time beneath the tree in silence, watching Tilda through the smoggy glass. She doesn’t move much. Probably watching a film or something. She gets up a couple of times, returning to her desk with snacks or a drink. Each time she glances out the window my heart speeds up.

‘Come on,’ Skylar finally says. At some point her hand found its way to the back of my thigh, letting me know exactly what she was gunning for by following me here. ‘I might not be your Adeline, but I can pretend for an hour.’ Tilting her head, she twirls a strand of hair dyed a shade darker than Tilda’s. ‘Or two.’

I consider her. Now here’s a girl who can make me forget a while. Something about it feels weird though. Last time I bedded her, I’d been at my worst, uncaring about myself let alone whoever I was with. I remember her crying out at some point, and not in a good way. I think I apologised the next morning only to be cut off with a vicious bite to my lips. Because this girl likes pain, probably why she’s fucked Haz more times than Elly and I put together.

Clearly tonight, I like pain too.

‘Alright.’ Pushing off the trunk, I put my arm around her shoulders and draw her into the light. ‘My tent’s up so we can go there.’

‘Shame. Was hoping you and your housemates would be up for sharing.’

I press a kiss to the top of her head. ‘I don’t share, cutie.’

As we cross over the swampish courtyard, I don’t once look back at Tilda’s window.