18. CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 18
Tilda
‘And where the hell do you think you’re going?’
I whirl round in the kitchen, spotting Haz in her sleepwear—joggers and a tank—her hair pulled back into a low, stubby ponytail.
I always do a double take when she wears it like that, her face coming into stark focus without that more feminine fall of hair. It makes her look stern, more severe. I’m not usually one to tell someone how to wear their hair but, yeah, she should wear it like that more.
‘You’re not in uni until later,’ she accuses with narrowed eyes.
‘Maybe I’ve got a life outside of you lot.’
‘Lies. You’re sneaking off.’
‘Well, yeah, but for wholly legitimate reasons.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that.’ Grabbing one of her protein bars, she shoves her feet into her boots. ‘I was about to go on a walk. Can I join you to wherever you’re going?’
‘You’re in your pyjamas,’ I point out. Judging by her puffy eyes, it’s clear she’s just woken up.
Plucking one of Elly’s jackets from the back of the door, she shrugs it on. ‘There. Now I’m not.’
‘Bet you’ve got no underwear on. Gonna get breezy.’
Opening the door, she ushers me out of it. ‘You let me worry about breezes.’
The late autumn air is so crisp it hurts my nose when I breathe in its loamy, piney scent. There’s not a soul out in the cul-de-sac this morning; it’s like a ghost town.
‘Fresh,’ I comment, burying my face into my coat.
‘Yeah,’ Haz mutters, kicking at some pine needles. ‘Coat weather.’
‘Not a fan?’
She grimaces, hands in her pockets. ‘They’re just kind of ugly.’
I look down at my own winter coat. It’s black, warm. What more could I want? ‘Thanks, pal.’
‘Not you.’ She smiles, slugging an arm around my shoulders. ‘You’d look good in anything—and nothing. Just hate not being able to show off my babies.’ She flexes her other arm, swathed in denim.
I shake my head. ‘You’re full of it.’
‘Rather be full of you.’ She picks me up, swinging me around in a circle until my head spins. She seems to love doing that. I bite down on my scream since it’s still so early.
There’s a gentle fog sluicing through the forest, snagging on all the trees like that fake spider web stuff. I love it when it’s like this, as peaceful as it is spooky. That fateful afternoon poring over Hazelhurst’s prospectus, the forest had looked just like this in the pictures.
This early, some floodlights are still on, catching on the mist and making it swirl around us. ‘Reminds me of Halloween.’
‘Where our love story began.’
Something warm lodges in my chest at her words, banishing the pre-winter chill. She’s kind of right. Since meeting those two, my life has been infinitely better. I don’t think I could have weathered this breakup without them.
‘You’re alright,’ I allow.
‘Woah there, Tilda. I don’t think I’m ready for marriage just yet.’
‘Or ever.’ I peek up at her profile. ‘You don’t seem the marriage type.’
‘Then I’m not doing this right.’ She looks at me, eyes black in the dim of the forest. ‘One day, when I meet the right girl, I’ll be grabbing onto her so tight and never letting go.’
‘That girl will be lucky to have you,’ I tell her, feeling a peculiar pang of envy. Why can’t someone like me in that way?
Gay or not, I do wonder sometimes, in the dead of night with her in the room just opposite, what would happen if I decided to give in. To give into her.
Is she full of shit, like most of my exes, or would she remain true to her word?
I want what she offers. I want to be held so tightly I bruise, so fused with them that neither of us can let go even if we wanted.
With a snort, Haz rips into her protein bar. ‘Damn right, she will.’
Twenty minutes later we’re shuffling along the cobbled paths leading to the heart of campus. There’re more students here, probably taking advantage of the empty study rooms or having breakfast at the grand hall. I have vouchers for that place but the students who frequent it all seem fiftieth in line for the throne or something. Eating some cheapo salad pot in there just felt wrong.
Haz peers round as though she’s never seen the place before. ‘World’s weird this time of morning.’
‘You’re telling me you’ve never woken up early for a Hazelhurst sunrise?’
‘No. Sounds romantic though. Wanna give it ago?’
‘I’m always down for that.’ I look up at the blandly overcast sky. ‘Pretty clouds do something to me.’
Haz bumps her hip to mine. ‘You do something to me. You’re prettier than any fucking cloud.’
When she sees the direction we’re heading, she screws up her face. ‘Oh fuck, you’re not going to the library, are you?’
‘No,’ I laugh. ‘Why, do you have an allergy or something?’
‘Yeah.’ She grins. ‘All that book dust.’
‘Lucky for you we’re not going to the library. Though I will have to ditch you in a sec.’
To the east of the castle is a row of tiny terraces in the past serving as weaver, blacksmith and tannery cottages. This morning though, the smell of breakfast burritos and pancakes blow from the vents.
‘You’re picking up breakfast! Oh, good girl.’
‘Not picking it up.’ Entering through a side door, I unhook a key dangling there before exiting round to the rear. ‘Delivering it.’
‘What?’ Haz frowns as I perch on one of the quad bikes used for food deliveries. ‘You have a job?’
‘Yes, Harriet, I have a job.’ Picking up the helmet, I slit my eyes at her. ‘I’m one of those tip tossers you love so much.’
‘But I thought all you lot had bursaries.’
‘Us poor bastards do but we won’t forever. I want to get some money in the bank before then.’
‘Hm.’ She eyes the bike speculatively, giving one wheel a kick with a booted toe. ‘Looks like there’s enough for two on the back of that. Wanna show me how the other half live?’
I look around the empty bike shelter uncertainly. ‘Might get into trouble.’
‘I live for trouble, baby.’ She swings her leg over the bike, warm thighs snug against my hips. I hold my breath waiting for her arms to come around me. ‘Lead on, noble steed.’
The thing’s harder to steer with the weight of both of us. As carefully as I can, I drift to the front of the building where I park, fishing out my phone to open the delivery app.
‘brB,’ I say, hopping off. ‘Don’t go off joyriding.’
Whilst I wait with my insulated bag, I spy Haz through the door. She’s inched her way onto the front of the seat, hands on the handlebars pretending to drive.
My lips tick up. So cute.
She looks like the teen thugs from Mum’s estate, tearing round the roads with a fog of weed billowing behind them.
Though Haz isn’t about to indulge in that. She’s not subtle when it comes to her hatred for recreational drugs. I need to get the full story on that one day.
‘Got the goods?’ she asks on my return.
‘Yep. Quiet one today. Weekends are worse.’
Haz chuckles, winding her arms back around my waist. ‘I had no idea you led a double life.’
‘I’m a regular double agent. Now, hold on. Terrified I’m going to dump us on the road.’
Her chin comes to my shoulder, arms tightening. ‘Never letting go of you.’
My shift’s a hell of a lot more fun with Haz on the back. She takes control of my phone, taking it upon herself to do the dirty work and deliver the food. She even manages to scare up more tips than I usually do, the smug bastard.
And of course, at the end of it, she lets me keep them all.
‘This honest work isn’t so bad,’ she says as I drive us back to campus. ‘Pays peanuts though. Think I’ll stick to my inheritance.’
I shake my head. ‘God, you’re an asshole.’
‘And you love it,’ she purrs into my ear.
She’s not wrong. I really do.
Dammit.
‘You gotta take this back now?’
‘Usually do, why?’
‘Thought we could go on a little joyride after all.’ She snakes her hands over mine on the handlebars. ‘I think it’s my turn to drive this thing, don’t you? Feels wrong not being the one in the driver’s seat.’
Reluctantly, I relinquish control of the handlebars. We delivered everything in good time; they won’t be missing the quad bike for a while.
There’s not much room on the seat, nowhere for me to go but fit to the curve of her body. She’s all but enveloping me in this position but the late November wind is so cold I welcome the additional heat.
‘Don’t be a boy racer,’ I warn.
She only chuckles, turning off the path onto a forest track. ‘Fucking looking forward to this.’
I should’ve known she wouldn’t listen. As soon as we’re away from prying eyes, she revs the bike and thrusts it forward. With a yelp, I grab onto her arms.
She rubs me soothingly. ‘I’ve got you, beautiful. Relax. I’ve done this before.’
I can believe her with the ease in which she wends around the forest, trees rushing past in a blur of grey green. Gripping onto her thighs, I push back into her body. It’s the only way I can stay on the bike.
‘Knew you were a secret adrenaline junkie,’ she shouts into my ear.
I close my eyes, becoming one with the vibrating, roaring bike and the solid girl behind me. ‘You bring it out in me.’
Safe.
That’s what I feel with her.
Safe and just as intimidated.
An intoxicating mix I’m quickly becoming addicted to.
She takes me further than I’ve ever been before. Hazelhurst Island isn’t huge but it’s full to the edge with forests and rocks and caves and cliffs. It’s a never-ending maze of wilderness.
I didn’t realise there were paths this far out. They’re not inhabited by any walkers, at least not at this time of day, making me wonder if they’re here for this very purpose. Not many of us have cars here, mainly only the staff. Quad bikes are a favoured mode of transportation, though you have to apply to use them.
I wonder if there’s a club for it or something. I curl my hands tighter around Haz’s thighs, comfortable against her broad chest. I bet she’d love something like that. Might look into it for her.
The track dips down to a lake I never knew existed. Pine trees and crags reflect in the strangely still waters. There are swans out there, long necks craned in our direction, pissed we’re disturbing their peaceful morning.
‘Bet wild swimming’s ace here,’ Haz calls. ‘We should come back at midnight for a skinny dip.’
‘Ask me again once it’s summer.’
‘I won’t forget that,’ she says into my ear.
Her warm breath blooms on my cheeks. Turns out adrenaline is as much of a turn on as vodka.
She slows down on a little peninsular of grass, water stretching out in all directions. She releases the handlebars, hands resting loosely on top of mine on her thighs.
‘Fuck, that was hot,’ she breathes, winded from steering the heavy bike.
‘You’re telling me.’
‘You feel that too, huh?’ She turns my arms over to run her fingers over my wrists.
‘Haz…’ I warn.
‘Mm-hm?’ There’s a smirk in her voice as she slips out from behind me. Cold sweeps in a second before she sits down on the front of the seat, facing me, my legs slung over hers. ‘Lie back for me.’
It’s a tight squeeze but I do what she says because…well, I’m not sure why. There’s just something in the command of her voice, something that my mind responds to.
It’s just a whole other world out here, one I’ve not ventured to before, the rules still unknown.
Once I’m reclined over the back of the seat, our legs still tangled, she takes a good long look at the result. I close my eyes as my lower body stretches out in all the right ways.
‘Damn,’ she murmurs, sweeping her gaze over me again. ‘One day when I have a motorbike, I’m gonna get you in this position again.’
‘That’s hot,’ I whisper. ‘I’m down.’
Haz grins, grasping my hips hard. ‘Hell yeah.’
Bending my knees, she lowers down on top of me, eyes flitting over my face for my refusal. When our crotches meet, she chokes on a gasp. ‘Fuck, Tilda.’
I hold still as she snakes her hands under my coat, my stomach clenching when she meets bare skin. She holds my eyes the whole time. I expect a challenge in them but it’s a question I see, a question I put off answering as she tucks her fingers in the waistband of my jeans.
When they meet the edge of my underwear, I lick my lips. ‘I’m straight, Haz…’
‘Uh-huh. I think I’ve heard that about a million times, but do you know what I haven’t heard from you? No. Get off me. I’m not into this. ’ She tugs at my waistband. ‘That’s all you have to say, Tilda. Say that and I’ll stop.’
But I say nothing. I can’t. My mouth’s fused shut, some inner insolence forbidding me from backing down from…whatever this is turning into.
Haz releases a breathy chuckle, her irises darker than usual. ‘You’re fooling no one, baby, but fuck am I enjoying the chase.’
They’ve put a tracker on me, I swear.
As soon as I get rid of one of them, the other pops us.
I can’t help but grin at Elly’s jaunty wave as she walks towards me on the quad, eyes lighting up behind her glasses.
‘Hey, roomie.’
‘Hey, yourself,’ I reply. ‘Where are you off?’
‘To find some food before I perish. You?’ She stands up straighter, suddenly alarmed. ‘Wait, we don’t have uni, do we?’
‘No. Chill. I’ve just got my elective.’
‘Ah, cool. What did you choose?’
‘She Means Business with Margot Savage.’
Just saying the words fills me with a peculiar feeling, half dread, half excitement. The women-only course is one of the most esteemed and sought-after in the entire university. It’s post-grad; you have to already have earned your bachelors. It’s known for being particularly cutthroat and not for the weak. The module I chose is only a taster.
‘Damn.’ Elly raises both eyebrows. ‘I didn’t even bother. Didn’t think I’d have a chance in hell.’
‘There’s always a chance, Elly.’
‘I’m going to take that in the way I want.’ She smiles, one hand fluffing out her hair. I’ve noticed she does that when things turn intense.
‘What did you choose then?’
‘Life Drawing.’ She drops her hand with a shrug. ‘Was hoping to catch some free tits but I’m getting my fair share of peens instead.’
‘Making you jealous?’ I tease.
‘No.’ She pushes her glasses further up her nose. ‘Can buy a bigger one whenever I want.’
‘Do you…?’ I blow out a breath as I form the question I’ve had on my mind for a while. These girls are a key to a world I’ve never been privy to before, but there’s still so much I don’t know. ‘I mean, when you use… it …can you actually feel anything?’
A slow smile curves Elly’s lips. ‘You asking if I can get off using a strap?’
I nod.
‘Yeah, I can. If I stick a vibe down there with it.’ She studies me closer, almost a leer under the shade of the cloister. ‘Don’t think I’d need one with you, though. Reckon I’d get off on you alone.’
‘Is that something you think about?’
She lets out a breath through her nose, eyes never leaving mine. ‘Oh Tilda, you have no idea.’
I don’t, but I’m beginning to want to. Can’t blame a girl for being curious.
I’m still thinking about it when I’m twiddling my pen in Margot Savage’s lecture.
I glance up briefly as a blonde girl takes one of the only available seats next to me. It’s a packed class, not that I was expecting anything less.
Margot herself isn’t what I expected, given the rumours. I know she’s in cahoots with the university’s current chancellor, a direct descendent of the original founder. Mafia, the rumours say, though those rumours around here are pretty much law. Who knows what the truth is; it’s just more fun to think our university’s got dark beginnings. Why the Mafia would bother with this place, I’ve no idea.
Margot herself doesn’t look the type. She’s severe, that much is true, but she doesn’t pose an overbearing figure. I find myself wondering if she’s gay. Lately, every girl I look at I’m wondering the same. She does have short hair, styled nicely with blonde highlights, and she’s wearing a suit. Tiny clues that could mean fuck all.
That Skylar girl from the other day, I wouldn’t have pegged her as being into girls.
I wonder if they’ve made up or if Nic’s got herself yet another enemy.
She’s such a piece of work. I’m getting tired of her being the only bleak spot at hockey, like a rain cloud that just won’t piss off.
And what of that comment about her stalking me? That was just plain weird.
We’re encouraged to make notes in this class. I swap my notepad for my tablet, able to type quicker than I write.
The girl next to me does neither, sitting there with her arms crossed. She doesn’t seem insolent about it, just someone who wants to be somewhere other than here. Which is odd. Application numbers are through the roof for this woman’s course. I was thrilled to bits when I got onto this module.
‘Can’t take notes without using your hands, Aurelie,’ Margot says as she passes our desk, tapping it twice with a finger.
‘Forgot my notebook,’ the girl—Aurelie? How pretty—responds in an odd tone. Quiet, but not shy.
I regard her from the corner of my eye. She’s super pretty, all long white-blonde hair and dreamy faced. She reminds me of a fairy, of this world but not entirely part of it.
Girls like her make me feel dirty. I peek down at my black-painted nails, chipped even on day of applying. My skin is mottled with tattoos, dragging with the weight of multiple piercings. My hair’s naturally dark, my clothes chosen that way.
This girl… I get a glance of her ear when she tucks a long strand behind it. They’re not even pierced. Her white jumper is expensive looking. Cashmere. Definitely not scholarship.
She’s so poised and graceful even in that casual pose.
Not her fault but I’m bristling.
I hate this feeling, self-aware enough to know it’s all me. My insecurities. It makes me want to scratch away my makeup, yank off my piercings. Maybe then I can be as clean as this girl.
Which is dumb. I don’t know who she is. Her heart might be blacker than mine. Appearances mean nothing.
Margot drifts away, returning a moment later to silently deposit a sheet of paper and a pen.
‘Not your first choice?’ I comment to Aurelie, needing for some reason to bridge the gap between strangers and acquaintances. We’ve got months together in this class.
She flashes me a brief smile. ‘None of this is.’
Weirder and weirder. Who wouldn’t want to attend Hazelhurst?
It’s sort of sad without Elly and Haz though. Certainly a lot more dull.
Halfway through the seminar, I’m wondering why on earth Margot’s course is so sought-after. It’s honestly boring as hell, apart from her brief women in business spiel at the beginning. Maybe the actual course is different. I think people apply more for the placements than the degree itself. Those placements can land you a prestigious career in business and that’s you sorted for life.
That’s not the road I want to go down. I need to create, and not just for profit. Something that will probably come back to bite me on the ass, but the soul wants what the soul wants.
It’s with relief that the seminar wraps up an hour later. I have a whole doc of notes but I doubt I’ll ever revisit them. Maybe I can transfer over to Life Drawing and draw some dicks with Elly.
I follow Aurelie from the classroom, watching where her hair tangles with her bag strap. Small imperfections that make me feel better.
It’s even cloudier now, the air smelling of rain. I’ve got a couple of hours until my last lecture of the day, intending on spending them rotting back at the lodge, with girls who love me for my darker than white heart.
As I turn the corner of the cloister, I catch sight of Aurelie still by the entrance to the building. She’s stood with Margot and another girl I’ve not seen before. Huge . Way larger than Haz in terms of gains, bare arms slashed with tattoos despite the cold. Don’t even care if I’m stereotyping here, that girl is definitely a lesbian.
A lesbian with Aurelie though?
I step out the way of foot traffic, feeling pervy as I watch them. Margot retreats into the building, leaving the two of them alone. Aurelie turns on her heel, heading my way. The larger girl only needs to take half a step to catch up. Reaching out, she gives her a shove between her shoulders. Aurelie stumbles but doesn’t otherwise react, her arms folded tight around herself.
I carry on before they reach me, mind back on the lodge and who I’ll hopefully find there…and who I’ll hopefully not.