Tricky Girls (Girls of Hazelhurst #1)

29. CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 29

Tilda

‘Well shit, you’ll never guess fucking what?!’

I jump as Haz barrels through the door, pushing it so hard it bangs off the wall. I catch Nic’s frown but she doesn’t say anything, waiting patiently for Haz to go on.

They’ve been at the library all morning, her and Elly, trying to complete an essay I finished up even before Christmas. They really do like to procrastinate then crawl to me for help. I let them have my essay upon the promise they won’t copy it word for word.

Now they’re back because I’m making cheese toasties and salad for everyone. Even Nic couldn’t ignore the temptation of free food. It’s been awkward as hell in the kitchen waiting for the others to get home.

‘The shop roof’s only gone and caved in!’

I frown, continuing to cut up cucumber in the way Elly likes it. Too thick and she won’t eat it at all. ‘What?’

‘Yeah, dunno what’s happened but they were just cornering it off when we got there. Said it won’t be open for days until they sort it. Funny though because it collapsed on the stationary section. Even the universe is telling us to sack in this essay.’

‘Are you still not done?’

‘No, but that’s not the issue here, Tilda. Keep the fuck up. We need alcohol for tonight. And, you know, food for the week.’ She looks at Nic. ‘You’ll have to hop on the ferry, man. It’s already getting dark out and shops close early today. Me and Elly are fucked if we don’t get this essay finished before the party. Like, it literally just won’t get done.’

‘Alright. I’ll go.’

‘Yeah, but, not on your own. You can’t carry it all.’ There’s silence, then I feel Haz pushing into me. I don’t even have to look to see the beseeching expression on her face. ‘Tilda. You know you love me with the whole of your pitch-black soul…?’

I sigh, tossing away a flaccid bit of lettuce. ‘What?’

‘Go with Nic to the shop. She’s hench but not that hench. Not for how lit I wanna get tonight.’

I glare at her. She’s damn well aware how Nic and I feel about each other. Well, how Nic feels about me. Really shitty position to put me in and she knows it.

But…I’m all out of booze too, and what kind of New Year’s party will it be if there’s not enough alcohol to make you want to kiss people you never would sober?

I glance at Nic who’s sat back in her chair, eyeing me dispassionately.

Least we feel the same—that these two mean more to us than our mutual hostility. There’s some kind of reassurance in that.

I barely manage a half nod before Haz grabs me, heedless of the knife in my hand, and spins me around.

‘Yes, Tilda. You’re the fucking GOAT!’ She puts me down, executing a quick slap to my ass. ‘Now, back to those sandwiches. Me and Elly are starved.’

Nic

I lose her as quickly as I can, snatching a basket and wandering off to find the fresh food. Tilda can deal with the booze since she’s fitter than me, something she just had to prove yesterday at the gym.

My stupid ego. It’s still bruised.

And my heart—that’s still battered from Christmas.

I’ve been thinking about Tommy a lot after roughing up his room. It’s not regret I feel, but more caution over his place in fucking up my life.

It’s possible he chose to stay in halls to be with a poorer friend. Maybe that friend was too proud to let him pay for a lodge, unlike Elly. Well, she’d put up a fight too, but Haz promptly told her to suck it up and that was that.

The thought that he might have as much to do with his family as I do…

Would that even change anything?

Certainly not the past, but the present.

I need to be careful. Curiosity killed the cat and there’s still too many demons swimming around, tempting me with their forbidden knowledge.

What happened to Tilda after our exile?

What happened to Tommy, to Josephina, to all of them?

With me gone, Damien would have been looking for a replacement. It’s just how his black, twisted soul is. He was only quiet, well-behaved, off the streets, when he had a little project going on. Something to occupy his time and fulfil his sick desires. Aunt Kathleen liked him better that way—why she never helped even when she saw the bruises, the way it hurt for me to sit down sometimes.

His kid brother, meek, doe-eyed Tommy, was a decent punchbag. But he was boring. Didn’t punch back. And of course, he couldn’t put his dick in him.

Me? I was fair game. His cousin, yeah, but he’s adopted so it didn’t count. And we were strangers when we met.

I’m telling you, Nic, it’s not like Heathcliff and Cathy. They grew up together. Yeah, they’ll hate it, but fuck them.

Now shut up and bend over.

Snort a little more, that’s it.

This is fun, right?

Josephina…

No, that’s too fucked up even for him. Damien was eleven when she was born, a miracle girl-child Aunt Kathleen had always yearned for. That’s worse than Heathcliff and Cathy, their book I can’t even read anymore. I made them change the reading list this year so it didn’t feature.

I was the Heathcliff in Aunt Kathleen’s life. She had her darling baby girl. She didn’t need me, didn’t need the reminder of a brother she couldn’t stand for reasons I never asked about. The ghost of his suicide haunting us all.

I was a black sheep, Damien was blacker, and for a while he helped fill the hole Tilda’s absence had left.

But like everything, it eventually soured.

‘Are you done?’

I flinch, the apple in my hands dropping to the ground. It lands with a thunk, instantly bruising. With a tut, I bend to retrieve it. ‘Nice.’

‘I called your name, like, three times. You were just staring at nothing.’ Tilda tosses her hair, her septum piercing winking under the fluorescents. ‘Bloody weird.’

The hole she left might have scabbed over but here she is to pick at it again.

I glance at her basket. She’s hefting it awkwardly, the thing full to the brim with spirits, mixers and ciders. ‘Are you done?’

‘Yeah,’ she gasps, hefting the basket up her arm again. ‘Just about. Shop’s about to close anyway. The staff are giving us dirty looks.’

‘They can fucking wait. We’re about to pay their wages for the night.’

‘Such a rich person thing to say.’

I brought my big backpack but Tilda only has one tiny tote, buying some flimsy plastic bags for the rest of it

It’s not a long walk from the supermarket to the ferry terminal but Tilda lags behind. I hear her huffing and puffing, the sound so grating I eventually reach back and grab two of the bags from her.

‘Thanks,’ she mutters.

I shrug. ‘Haz will flip if we don’t get this back to her.’

It’s not late but dark enough out for the others to start the party as soon as we return. I assume they finished their essay, hearing no mention of it as they crowd us for booze. Haz is in her blacks, Elly in pretty much the same but with a plaid shirt over the top. Tilda races upstairs to get ready, a bottle of vodka swinging from her hand. Something unspools in me as soon as she’s out of sight.

They let me DJ—small mercies. I put on some indie rock, mild enough to appease the Swifties and not so bad that my ears will bleed.

I’ve got a message from Skylar telling me she’ll be round soon. Hope she’s not expecting anything. I’m all out after Christmas Day. That girl’s got the sex drive of a fucking bunny.

I’m fiddling with the speakers when Tilda comes back downstairs. I see a swish of red fabric, the top of one cross-hatched thigh, the cuts matching the colour of the velvet like some macabre accessory.

That fucking dress again? I close my eyes, damning all and any gods that might be out there.

‘Ah, the memories with this thing,’ Haz purrs, pulling Tilda close and pointing her eyes straight at her tits. ‘Looking for more of the same tonight?’

‘Dunno,’ Tilda teases, looking over at Elly now. ‘I’m a free agent tonight. Anything could happen.’

Elly raises an eyebrow, something decidedly heated passing between them.

I huff out a breath. They reckon they’re so slick. I guess they are with Haz. She hasn’t noticed a thing, still busy gawping down Tilda’s cleavage. She must have a push-up bra on. Her rack’s not that much bigger than mine.

My mouth fills with saliva at the sight of all that creamy, unblemished flesh. Swallowing, I turn away.

‘Hey, can I see your playlist?’ Tilda asks after she’s escaped Haz’s clutches.

I frown. ‘Why? It’s just some rando one.’

‘I want to make some requests.’

She bumps me out the way, taking possession of my laptop. She strokes over the trackpad, dirties the keys with her fingerprints. I want to take her vodka and pour the whole lot over just to rid it of her touch.

She sits on the arm of my chair, her short dress riding up more. Her cuts are so stark. There are new ones. Freshly slashed. I look but I don’t see the one my knife made.

‘You should put something else on.’ When Tilda glances at me, I nod to her scars. ‘No one wants to see how fucked up you are.’

I expect a clever retort but there’s only silence when none comes. Tilda stares at me, unmoving like I’ve taken the wind out of her sails, a hint of hurt in her eyes. And shit, are those tears? Come the fuck on.

Haz frowns, grasping Tilda’s wrist like a parent whose kid’s been hurt. ‘Out of order, man. Fucking apologise.’

I shake my head, escaping to the kitchen to make up a drink. I take my whiskey from the top shelf, replacing it back there afterwards. No fucker’s getting their hands on my alcohol tonight.

I take my time in here, loitering against the counter, strangely reluctant to venture back to the lounge.

So maybe it’s not just Tilda’s feelings that have been hurt. Haz and Elly—they used to be mine. To see them take her side, regardless of how much of a dick I’m being, it chafes.

If only they knew the truth. That Tilda’s not just some pretty girl with a sob story. That she ruined my life ten years ago and seems to be back for more of the same, quietly and systematically dismantling everything I love.

She’s got my home, my cousin, my friends.

What’s fucking left at this point?

I camp on my chair for most of the night, nursing whiskey and entertaining anyone who comes over. Some girls try it, Blakely just wants to talk books, but mostly I’m left alone.

I like house parties but I never relax when the house is mine. Haz calls me The Mum, always making sure no one’s spilling shit on the sofa or dirtying up the walls. There’re still bloody handprints in the bathroom from first year’s Halloween bash.

I catch Skylar’s eyes and raise my drink. She smiles and turns back to Haz, her tiny hand on her back where they sit on the sofa. Dumb bitch. Doesn’t she know Haz is smitten? Yeah, she was down for it at Christmas but Tilda’s in the room now.

Won’t be doing that again anytime soon. Haz is a hog of the highest order. I was at the edge of the bed shivering half the time. Skylar just fucking laughed at me.

Until I stuck my strap down her throat. That shut her up quick.

I keep seeing flashes of red, Elly always right there too. They’re not doing much to hide it, but I’ll keep their secret. Anything to help Elly out after her shitty past month. I’ll cash in the favour one day. I’m sure there’ll be cause.

I keep my eyes resolutely on the telly, unable to bear the sight of those cuts. They make me seethe, teeth gritting so hard they squeak. I want to scream at her to stop as much as I want to be the one who’s cutting her.

London’s splashed in all its glory on the screen. A drone zooms over the Thames, drinking in the sight of the London Eye all lit up. What I wouldn’t do to jump in those black waters, to shock this feeling from my body.

To take Tilda down with me.

Sitting up, I pat around for my crumpled packet of cigs.

I might not have access to a body of water, but I do have an empty landing window with a decent enough view.

I glance at the clock. It’s nearing midnight anyway and I’m not in the mood to be snogging some rando.

Tilda

The sight of the clock sends a frisson of excitement through me. Elly hasn’t exactly said she’ll be my New Year’s kiss but with how she’s been acting all night, it’s definitely on the cards.

I peer round, having lost her in the past twenty minutes. I see Haz, sitting with that Skylar girl. That dampens my buzz a bit. They’ve barely been parted all night. Well, Skylar hasn’t been parted from Haz. Haz herself seems oblivious. Oblivious or outright ignoring her which I find much more preferable.

Such a shitty thought I berate myself for. If I don’t have the nerve to sleep with her, with either of them, she has every right to be getting it elsewhere. It’s just that ugly part of me rearing up, the one which says no one truly values me, the part that makes me hurt myself just to settle it.

After a bit of a hiatus, it’s got bad again. I’m due on, Mum still isn’t acknowledging my existence, and Nic’s been rubbing me in all the wrong ways. After her dick comment, I felt gross in my dress until I drank enough not to give a shit. Now I’m at the point where I don’t give a shit about anything apart from finding Elly’s sweet lips to kiss.

I try the tiny downstairs toilet everyone’s been using. There’s a girl in there but it’s not Elly. I grab hold of the banister and climb upstairs, my drunkenness pulling me backwards like invisible demon hands. I tread carefully, not overly in the mood to snap my neck tonight.

I spy Nic from the corner of my eye. Elly’s room is shut. I knock lightly before pushing it open, in case she’s getting changed or has passed out. It’s dark, the room empty. The bathroom’s unoccupied too, the light on and showing nothing. I turn it off, wondering where else she can be.

Nic’s still hulking at the end of the landing. She has the window cracked open, smoking out of it. My lip curls up. I know it’s her house but I hate that she’s doing that.

‘Hey, have you seen Elly?’

Nic lifts the cigarette and blows out a funnel of smoke. ‘Nope.’

I sigh, craning my neck left and right like she might simply materialise. ‘She’s fucking nowhere.’

‘Maybe she’s avoiding you.’

‘Oh yeah?’ I return my attention to Nic. She’s leant on the sill, bony arse pointing out. She must be freezing in just that loose tank. I can see each vertebra of her spine through it. ‘Is that what you’re doing up here then?’

‘Just trying to enjoy a smoke in peace.’

‘And making the rest of us enjoy it too. Can’t you take it outside or something?’

She doesn’t reply. Doesn’t even look at me. It pisses me off.

I come round to her side. ‘You’ve been a fuck today.’

‘Mm-hm.’

Her eyes are on the sliver of Hazelhurst Castle showing through the pines. It’s a full moon tonight. Can’t see it for the cloud but I know it’s up there. If only it was visible to shine its light on this fucking vault of a girl.

I thought I could better deal with her nastiness—laugh at it even, like I had her tantrum on Haz’s birthday. But not every day’s the same. Some feel more vulnerable than others and today I’m surprisingly raw.

It was so uncalled for. So cruel. Doesn’t she know how it feels to have your ugliness thrown in your face like that?

‘I didn’t appreciate what you said to me earlier.’

‘Yeah, didn’t figure you would.’

She’s still not looking at me, long fingers idly tapping off ash. I grab her arm, forcing her round.

She reluctantly turns her gaze on me, drunk-hazed eyes gliding over my body. A smile tugs my lips. Fucking bingo.

‘You’ve really not seen Elly? I was planning on sticking my tongue down her throat at midnight.’

‘Wouldn’t say even if I had.’ She flits her eyes over me in a more judgmental way. ‘I know you’re making her fuck you. You should probably stop that.’

‘Careful. You almost sound jealous there, Nic.’

She lets out a huff, bathing my face in smoke. ‘You don’t have a fucking clue.’

I push into her, warming her arm with my velveted tits. ‘I’ve seen you looking at me in this dress. You’re not subtle, you’re a fucking guy. I know you fuck with me really, despite what you say.’

‘Oh yeah, I wanna fuck with you.’

‘Go on then.’ I gesture down the stairs, where London’s readying for the countdown on the telly. ‘Time’s a ticking, Nic. Countdown’s almost on. Now’s your chance.’

Nic’s eyebrow twitches. ‘My chance to what?’

I tap my lips with a finger. ‘No one’s around. No one will know. I’ll keep your secret. Just another ugly thing to bind us.’

She flicks her finished cigarette out the window without ever taking her eyes from me. ‘You have no idea what binds us.’

She turns fully, our hips touching. Have we ever stood this close before? Only when she’s forcing me up against some kind of surface. Just like she’s doing now.

Her height is eclipsing, blocking out the rest of the party. They’re screaming out numbers down there but it’s strangely muffled. Nic doesn’t blink as she raises her hands to tangle in my hair.

…THREE…!

This feels wrong. Awful. Like mixing two toxic chemicals. Like the moment our lips touch, the world will implode.

I don’t step away. Kissing me will hurt her as much as it will me. Sacrifices have to be made sometimes.

…TWO…!

Her fingers flex in my hair, agitating my scalp. I smell smoke on her mouth, feel her breaths as she draws closer. My eyes start to close of their own volition. I watch her at half-mast, not quite comfortable enough to let her out of my sight. Her eyes are fully open, flicking between my own. I still don’t see her blink.

…ONE…!

I close my eyes. Her lips graze mine. She tightens her grip, pulls back my head…then spits right into my mouth.

I cry out, eyes flying open.

‘Stupid bitch.’ She lets me go, shaking her head as she saunters off. ‘Not my fault you’re too thick to see what’s staring you in the face.’