5. CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 5
Haz
It’s not like I’m a studious little nerd like Nic, but I know to take hold of an opportunity when one presents itself.
For the second time in as many days, I usher Tilda into the lodge, shooing her to the low coffee table where she spreads out the crumpled A3 sheet we’ve been working on.
Elly comes to her knees beside her, a few inches too close for my liking as she hands her a marker. Something warm infuses my body as I watch them, something that smells suspiciously like competition.
Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve vied for a girl.
Won’t be the first time I win, either.
Putting my hands on my hips, I draw in a breath. ‘Right, motherfuckers, who’s up for a bevvy?’
‘Dude, it’s 11am,’ Elly protests.
‘Yeah?’
‘We’re not freshers anymore. Time to get our heads in the game.’
‘Okay. Whatever. Tilda?’
She shakes her head, spilling hair over her face. ‘Never drinking again, me.’
I step into the kitchen with a smirk. ‘Coffee then?’
‘Wouldn’t say no to a tea.’
‘Do us one too, Haz,’ Elly calls. ‘Two sugars, this time. Don’t skimp.’
I do as she says but not without a grimace. Vile stuff. Can’t even drink sweetened protein shakes. Sweetness is a foreign substance, soul’s allergic.
I sift through the cupboard of mugs. Which one for Tilda? A beguiling mix of darkness and light. I remove Elly’s favourite, revealing the black one behind it, Best Girlfriend printed in stark pink letters. One Elly keeps around from a long-lost girlfriend. Smirking, I pull it towards me.
When I re-enter the lounge, three dripping mugs in tow, Tilda’s slouched with her face in her palm, staring blearily at the paper. I don’t think they’ve written a single thing in my absence.
‘Here.’ I deposit her tea, turning it so the text’s facing her.
She slots her fingers through the handle, lifts it to her lips, puts it back down.
And nada.
I flop back down on the other side of the table, trying to decipher the upside-down words on the paper. We’d laid a lot of the groundwork in the tutorial earlier, but we’ve yet to pick a narrative. Thinking up stories isn’t my forte. Don’t have the brain for it, and Tilda seemed too deep in her pity party to come up with much that was helpful. Elly threw out a bunch of suggestions, but she seems to have about as much imagination as me. Sometimes I rue the day I ever picked this degree.
‘Could do a porno,’ I say half-heartedly.
‘Edgy,’ Tilda jokes. ‘Starring the two of you?’
‘Not like I’ve not seen her ginger minge before.’
‘Really?’ She looks between us, some life back in her face. ‘Have you two dated?’
‘Hell have we. Not into incest.’ I grin over the table at Elly. ‘She’s my boy.’
‘And you’re more like the leery old dad with a consent problem, but whatever.’
I sit back, aghast. ‘Fuck you, fucker.’ Rapping my knuckles on the table, I draw Tilda’s attention back to me. ‘I wouldn’t fuck her but don’t mind sharing, if you know what I mean.’
‘Been there, done that,’ Elly quips.
‘Hell yeah, we have. You ever had a threesome?’ I ask Tilda.
‘Nope.’
‘Ever wanted to?’
She purses her lips. ‘I’m scared to say yes. Feel like you’ll jump on it.’
‘Jump on you, more like.’
‘See!’ Elly points a finger. ‘Consent problem.’
‘And that, bro, is exactly why I get more pussy than you.’
‘Anyway, back to the task at hand.’ She cranes her head towards the wall clock. ‘I can’t be here forever. Got shit on this afternoon.’
‘Well, I’m all out of ideas.’
‘How about a horror film?’ Tilda says. ‘Like a folk kind of thing.’
I make a continue gesture with my hand. She sits up, letting out a hum that vibrates right through me.
‘How about…something about a witch. Maybe a ghost witch. Something bad might have happened and she haunts the place seeking for revenge.’ She releases a loud sigh, eyes on the ceiling as she thinks. ‘Maybe…I dunno, could be a woman who was born with some kind of mark that makes her a witch. Something like that. She’s cast out to the forest when she reaches a certain age and shunned by the village, apart from one boy who ends up falling in love with her—’
‘Why not a girl?’
‘Dude,’ Elly snaps, ‘let her go on.’
‘And then,’ Tilda continues, ‘—and this is a bit Romeo and Juliet—but the village could get wind of their affair and stage the boy’s death to get them to split up. Witch jumps off cliff to follow him. Boy isn’t really dead. Problem solved. Apart from, you know, her haunting the woods for all of eternity, pushing people into the sea as revenge.’
A silence falls after she finishes, broken only by the relentless ticking of the clock.
Elly taps her pen on her lips, staring at Tilda from over her glasses. ‘Dark bro.’
Tossing down her own pen, Tilda gives a quick shrug. ‘Or not.’
‘No, I think I’m down.’ I give it a run through in my mind. Tilda would be our witch, obviously. She would look good in some long black dress and her hair’s the wavy kind that would probably bush up well when backcombed. Maybe she’ll even let me be the one to do the combing. With a backdrop of pine trees and cliffs and creepy-ass buildings, it could be ace. ‘Let’s do it.’
Tilda smiles. ‘Cool.’
She sits back to finish her tea, lips getting shiny as she sips. They’re pale today, no longer stained red by cherryade. They’re like cartoon lips, all plump and full and shaped like rosebuds—whatever that means. She’d look hot with some dark red lipstick, even hotter with black. It would go with the silver chains she has layered on her neck, a cross, pentagram and bat pendant winking in the light.
Downing the rest of my coffee, I smack down my mug. ‘Right. Now that’s sorted, shall I shuttle us in some lunch? I’m starved.’
‘Don’t have any food amongst all the shit in your kitchen?’ Tilda teases.
I narrow my eyes. I’m not sure I’m capable of feeling shame but if I was, it for sure wouldn’t be over the state of the house. ‘Judge not, straight girl. You kiss boys—willingly.’
‘True,’ she says around a yawn. She looks wrecked this morning, eyes still raw from blubbing. ‘Boys are gross.’
They are, and they also don’t seem to have the sense God gave them to treat their girls right. The state of this one here…wouldn’t mind decking the fucker for a second time.
She reaches up with her arms to stretch, pushing those little tits that bit closer to me. Then she follows that up with a mewling sound that has even Elly shifting in her place.
She seems to favour the colour black, like me, today sporting worn skinny jeans and a frayed cropped jumper just one shade darker. She’s still in yesterday’s makeup, that much is clear to see, and her hair smells like the cherryade she’d been drinking.
Hell, she’s still fit though.
And I’m a sucker for a crying girl.
I flex out my right hand, still feeling the impact of my ring against that asshole’s face. Bony little prick. Like a blackbird, all narrow and pointy. No substance at all. Must be hiding a big dong or something. Straight girls always do have a low bar.
Tilda…she’s fucking beautiful. Lithe and proportionate and all dreamy in the face. She could have anyone. She could have me. Even Elly would be a step up.
I shake my head. World doesn’t make any bloody sense sometimes.
Shuffling up behind my little damsel, I circle my arms around her, phone in hand. ‘What do you want?’
When she hesitantly takes the phone, I lower my arms, not quite touching her anymore but close enough to still be enveloped in her fruity scent. I catch Elly looking and send her a smirk. She shakes her head, but I see the amused smile she can’t quite hide.
‘I’ll pay you back,’ Tilda mumbles as she thumbs through the app.
I snatch the phone back once she’s done. ‘Don’t insult me, princess.’