8. CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 8
Tilda
Weekends at Portia House are entirely unpredictable. Either it’s a mad house with flat parties going on on all floors, sometimes spilling out into the courtyard and mingling with other houses, or it’s dead with everyone visiting home.
This weekend appears to be the latter. Though the TV’s running, there’s no one in the kitchen when I enter to scrounge up a Pot Noodle. Even at three in the morning there’s usually someone in.
So used to being around people at this point, I’m filled with a strange loneliness every time I find myself alone. Must be weird living up in the lodges, especially those posh ones next to the lake. They’re smack-bang in the middle of the forest, no visible neighbours in sight.
Me and Natasha went to a house party at one once. Wasn’t really our scene. Even without the long-ass walk, the house had been full to the brim with drugs, and none of them hidden. Suppose you can get up to whatever you like when you’re the richest bitches on campus and so far from the prying eyes of faculty that you’re practically forgotten about. Sometimes I forget how shady some of the students here can be.
Out of everyone who’s not here this weekend, I still know Ryan’s in, spotting the tell-tale sliver of light beneath his door.
Almost a week since I found him kissing Natasha and I’m coming to dread seeing him any time I leave my room. It’s making me a recluse, emerging only for food and lectures. It’s not him I don’t want to see specifically, it’s them. My treacherous mind supplies me with enough images. Natasha’s room is dark, so of course she’s in his, printing her grubby hands all over my man. A week ago he was saying I was his one and only and now he’s shagging my best friend? This feeling in my chest is awful. Rejection always fucks me up, whatever its form.
I need to speak to him at some point. He’s still got my shit in his room. My DVD drive, my hairdryer… Getting a bit sick of air drying my hair each time I wash it. It’s just too cold for that here.
I watch the kitchen door as I stir my Pot Noodle. Maybe tonight might be a good shout, with it being quieter here. Less witnesses if it turns bad. I snort thinking of the broken cup fiasco at Fright Night. Maybe I should have sliced his face instead.
I’ll attempt it after food. I’m still wimping.
I turn the TV onto a radio channel, not really in the mood to concentrate on anything.
I should probably speak to Natasha too, but my mind shuts down as soon as the thought even enters my brain. That betrayal’s worse. She was my best fucking friend. Who even does that? I wouldn’t dream of chatting up her guys, even that beautiful one who sent my heart pitter-pattering every time I saw him. It’s just not done. The unspoken rule.
Guess I’m exempt from that, worthless piece of nothing I am.
Mum would agree.
I push around the limp noodles, my appetite in shreds. It’s always her I end up circling back to when I’m sad. My genesis of misery. Although, she’d say that was me, of course. I ruined it all.
Over by the kettle where I left it, my phone buzzes. Sliding my Pot Noodle onto the table, I take the excuse to check it. Could be Mum, I suppose. Sometimes she’ll text on the weekends, asking when I’m coming home but ensuring it’s too late to visit on that particular weekend. Staving me off for as long as possible.
It’s not her, though. It’s a text from an unknown number and it simply reads, What are you wearing?
Me: Who is this?
My thoughts drift to Ryan. Could it be them fucking with me? Would they be that cruel or is that just my innate paranoia?
My phone buzzes again.
Elly gave me your number. Hope that’s cool but too bad if not.
Ah. Not them then.
Me: Haz?
Haz: Yeah. Some other fucker texting you or something?
A laugh escapes me as I lean more heavily on the counter, taking my phone into both hands. The arrogance of this girl. Texting her will provide a welcome distraction if nothing else.
Me: Delete it.
No chance, princess, she replies immediately. Now send me a nude.
I shake my head despite the smile on my lips.
Me: Dream on, buddy.
Haz: Oh, I am. What you doing?
Releasing a breath, I opt for the truth.
Me: Gathering the courage to get my stuff back from Ryan.
Haz: Defo done with him then?
Me: Definitely. Just sucks he lives next door.
Haz: Ouch.
And then, I’ll suck you if you want.
Me: You’d probably do a better job, tbh
Haz: Damn right I would. I have a rep for it.
Me: Ah, maybe not then. I need to be someone’s #1 girl.
Haz: You’re already #1, baby
It makes me smile even though she doesn’t mean it.
I’m doing the storyboard rn, she goes on. Making your little witch super hot.
Me: You better.
Haz: Go get your shit.
I tut at the reminder, adrenaline pooling in my gut. Might as well get it over with. Can do with watching a film tonight, and Netflix just isn’t cutting it.
Dumping the rest of the Pot Noodle, I scoop up my phone and exit into the corridor.
It’s always creepy when it’s empty, long and white and stark beneath fluorescent lights. Brings to mind those liminal spaces. Always wonder what’s up with that. Why is everything so much creepier in its transitional state, why does the human body balk at the sensation of emptiness? Just seems wrong here without the hubbub of my flatmates, all sixteen of them.
Outside his door, I pause to draw in a breath. I hear music from beyond but nothing else. God, I really hope Natasha isn’t in there.
Lifting a fist, I reluctantly knock.
It opens after a moment, his tall body lounging against the frame so there’s no telling if anyone else is with him.
He folds his arms. ‘What?’
‘I’m just coming for my stuff.’
‘What stuff?’
So he’s going to be like that, is he? As if this wasn’t bloody hard enough.
‘My stuff, Ryan. Don’t be a dick.’
‘Don’t know what you’re on about.’
‘Yes, you do! My DVD drive, my hairdryer, whatever else. Just give it back.’
‘I’m using it so you’ll have to come back.’
‘Absolutely not. It’s not yours to use anymore.’
He falls quiet, studying me in that disdainful way of his. Why does he have to be so bloody goodlooking? The draw’s still there, despite hating his guts. The draw that kept me with him even when I knew I was better off without.
‘You’ve still not apologised to her,’ he says.
‘What?’
‘To Tash. For assaulting her.’
I let out a scoff. ‘Really? You want me to apologise for you cheating on me with her?’
‘Didn’t have to resort to violence. That was fucked up, Tilda. She’ll have a scar for life. I know that’s your kind of thing, but it’s not hers. You’re lucky you’re not excluded for it.’
I shake my head. ‘No. You’re literally not turning me into the villain here. Just let me get my stuff!’
He pushes off the doorframe, still peering down his nose at me. Putting his face close to mine, he breathes out, ‘No.’
Then the door shuts, his music turns up and I’m there trembling from the effort of trying not to sob.
Fucking ass.
I slam my door as hard as I can, damning the soft noise it makes. In the middle of my room, I flex out my hands, palms hot and clammy. My nails drag along the scratches on my thighs but I whip them away. I am not cutting over that asshole. He doesn’t deserve my blood.
Blowing out a trembling breath, I fall over my bed. God, that urge. It’s all-consuming. Like an addict needing their fix. Except my fix is pain, the floaty numbness that comes after it. It’s ecstasy…and always leaves me feeling shit once I’ve come down from the high.
Well, that went well, I tap out to Haz.
Haz: Are you being sarcy?
Me: Just a bit.
Haz: Prick. Want me to come over? I’ll get your shit back and then some.
No, I begin to reply then stop. My gaze drifts to the wall. Might not be the worst idea. Will get me out of my head. I could do with a dose of her irreverence. And it’s hair wash day tomorrow and I really need that dryer.
Me: Could if you want.
Haz: Be there in half an hour.
She’s glaring up at the rain when I answer the door, decked in only a pair of black trousers and a tight tank, those muscles of hers on full display. I linger on them a moment. They truly are impressive.
‘You look like you mean business.’
With a half smile, she raises her right hand and wiggles it. ‘Even wearing my ring again for the fucker.’
I lead her up the stairs to my flat. ‘Please don’t get me excluded.’
She places her hands on my hips and squeezes them. ‘I’ll pay our way back in, don’t worry.’
My hips are still tingling when I let us into my bedroom. I think that’s one of the things I’m missing the most. The closeness. The contact. I’m pretty reserved outside of relationships but once I’ve let someone in, I’m a veritable limpet.
I fall over my bed in a heap, not in the mood yet for another go around with Ryan.
With pursed lips, Haz makes a show of looking around. ‘Where is he then?’
‘Thought we could chill for a bit,’ I say weakly.
Shaking her head, she grabs my hand and hauls me to my feet. ‘Don’t be a pussy. Show me his room.’
In the corridor I gesture to it, standing back to let her go ahead. But she’s not having it, clamping her hands down on my shoulders and pushing me right in front of the door. Then she lounges against the wall behind me, arm muscles bulging where she folds them.
There’s a frown on Ryan’s face when he emerges, clearly expecting it to be me again. His gaze travels over my shoulder and his frown deepens further.
‘What, that your bodyguard?’
Haz flashes him her serpent ring. ‘Just a friendly reinforcer.’
‘I told student services about you hitting me.’
‘Ah, a snitch as well as a cheat. That tracks. Could’ve been anyone under those masks.’
‘I know it was you.’
‘Riiiight. And who do you reckon has more weight around here? One scholarship leech or a legacy?’
That shuts him up. I’m not sure whether to be pleased or offended.
I feel Haz’s body heat as she comes up behind me. ‘This girl wants her shit back.’
Ryan looks at me and scoffs. ‘Tough.’
‘I’ll show you tough, you little cunt.’ She pushes off the wall, dark intent written all over her face.
I put a palm on her chest to ward her off. At the touch, she looks down and winks.
I think she’s playing. God, I hope she’s just playing.
I release her slowly. She grins at Ryan before using her bulk to push him out the way and into the room.
‘What the fuck?! Get out!’
Haz only shrugs as she scans the space. ‘Should’ve done it her way then, shouldn’t you? Tilda, come grab your shit.’
I’m more hesitant to enter his room. It reeks of his body spray, the smell so familiar it makes me want to collapse on his bed and spend all night sniffing his pillow.
‘I’ll fucking get it,’ Ryan mutters, chucking me my hairdryer before rummaging in a drawer for the DVD drive.
Well shit, he folded fast. Why do I feel disappointed? He grabs an oversized black and white plaid shirt and tosses that at me too. It’s one of his, one I stole so often he basically let me have it. For a second, a flash of sadness comes into his eyes before it’s just as quickly banished.
‘That’s it. Now get the fuck out.’
‘Gladly.’ Haz wrinkles her nose. ‘Smells like a boys’ changing rooms in here.’
‘Well, you’d know about that, wouldn’t you, you fucking dyke.’
‘Ryan!’ My eyes bug out as I give his arm a shove. He might be many things, but he’s never been homophobic, never . His little brother, the tyke he loves even more than he loves himself, is as gay as they come.
‘Leave it, Tilda. He’s just salty my dick’s bigger than his.’ Haz grabs her crotch and thrusts it at him.
It’s to Ryan’s disgusted expression that we leave the room. I return to my place on my bed as Haz takes a real look around this time, picking up and examining all my stuff, smirking when she finds a discarded bra beneath my desk.
I track her movements, grateful for her presence tonight.
‘Do you actually have your dildo on right now?’
‘Wanna come and check?’ she tosses back as she picks through my collection of crystal skulls.
At the look I give her, she laughs. ‘I don’t have it. Forgot it in my haste to get here, didn’t I? Can totally still suck you though.’
‘Raincheck.’ I rub at my face. The adrenaline’s wearing off now and all I feel is shit.
At least he didn’t have Natasha in his room. Small mercies.
Haz comes to a stop before my giant black and white The Neighbourhood poster, one corner ripped off from the move to uni. Hands on hips, she looks at me.
I shrug. ‘I like angst.’
‘There’s worse,’ she allows. ‘Have you heard of Northbound Wolves?’
‘They go here, right?’
‘In our year. They’re playing at Vipers next Friday night. We should go.’
I shake my head. ‘No can do, I’m afraid. I have hockey try-outs that night.’
Haz whirls to me. ‘You play hockey?’
I fold my arms against her tone. ‘Yeah. Fucking good too.’ She doesn’t need to know I scuppered my chances of joining any team last year after a drunken stumble off the boat following a mainland night out. ‘Why?’
She just chortles, whipping one of my beanies off my desk. ‘Nothing. Don’t worry about it.’ She peers at me strangely as she jams it over her rain-dampened hair. ‘Just make sure you have your stick on you.’
‘Kind of can’t do it without.’ I nod at her head. ‘Suits you.’
‘Everything does.’ She steps up to my bookcase, running those intense eyes over its messy contents. ‘So, back to Vipers. I’m pretty sure your try-outs will be done before 9pm, right?’
‘Yeah, way before.’
‘Sweet. I’ll get us tickets.’ A smirk comes to her face as she grabs something from the shelf and hold it ups.
‘Muscle massager gun.’ For the leg I mangled last year.
‘Uh-huh.’ She turns it over, running her fingers over its buttons. ‘How does that work then? Do you ever—?’ She glances between her legs.
‘No.’ Snatching it from her, I replace it on the shelf. ‘I’ve got purpose made toys for that, thank you very much.’
‘Me too. Wanna compare?’
‘Oh my god.’ I flop back on the bed, an arm over my eyes. ‘You are a child.’
‘Nope. Just horny.’
‘Go find someone to horn off with then.’
‘Alright.’ The bed creaks as she climbs on up, her thick thighs straddling either side of me. ‘Well, look at that. Found someone.’
I can’t help but crack up, the bed jiggling from my giggles. ‘Get off me, you great oaf!’
She does so with thankfully minimal protest, coming to lie on her back beside me.
‘They did you dirty with these single beds,’ she grouses. Turning her head, she looks at me mere millimetres away and smiles. ‘Or maybe not.’
This close, I see how long and thick her eyelashes are, her full lips all square edges rather than round and pouty like mine. She’s handsome—the only word that comes to mind. Pretty just doesn’t suit her.
‘Are you really a legacy?’ I murmur, pillowing my cheek on my hand and turning until our knees touch.
‘No,’ she huffs. ‘Dickwad there doesn’t need to know though.’
‘Oh, and also—’ I give her solid bulk a push. ‘I’m a scholarship leech too.’
She captures my wrist, squeezing it hard. ‘Wanna throw me around, princess?’
‘Would you let me try?’ I tease sweetly.
‘You can but I’d lay you out first. Preferably on your bed. Underneath me.’
I shake my wrist free. ‘You literally can’t be serious for two seconds, can you?’
‘Oh, I’m being deadly serious. Just say the word.’
‘What word?’
‘Something to let me know you’re interested.’ She jabs a finger in the direction of Ryan’s room. ‘When you come to your senses over that little prick and you’re ready to have your world rocked, come find me.’ Her eyes lower to her hands, one finger caressing the metal scales of her snake ring. ‘How about… serpent.’
‘Serpent…’
With the same finger, she boops me on the nose. ‘Say that and I promise I’ll pounce on you faster than a cheetah.’
I bury my face in my pillow with a groan, that word crashing over me like ice water. ‘Kinda done with cheaters.’
‘Well, that’s not what I do.’ Roughly she grabs my hip, pulling it flush with hers. ‘Once you’re mine, you’re mine for fucking life. And death. And all our lives after that.’
She seems deadly serious about that too, no teasing smirk on her lips now. How would that feel, I wonder. To be owned by someone who would never let you go. To be wanted that much. Must be nice.
‘Sounds pretty good,’ I whisper.
‘Oh, it will be.’ She’s still squeezing my hip, thumb rubbing over my jeans. Her dark eyes flit over my face and for a second, I think she might try kissing me. ‘Anyway.’ Releasing a breath, she reaches her arms up in a stretch, both wrists clicking. ‘As much as it pains me to say this, I gotta love you and leave you. It’s game night with Nic.’
‘Cool. What kind of games?’
‘Board games. She’s a little nerd. I’d invite you over but she’s already in a bad mood, so—’ She shrugs, blotting out my ceiling light as she climbs back over me.
‘She seems like a bitch.’
A small smile twists Haz’s lips. She’s still wearing my beanie, one hand drifting up to readjust it on her head. ‘She is. But she’s alright too.’ Leaning over, she chucks me under the chin. ‘Later, beautiful. You know where I am if you need rescuing again.’