Page 6 of Fall

"Maybe, but that's like asking a woman's age; I won't tell you," she jokes, eyeing the pizza.

"Help yourself, there's a four-cheese pizza and a pepperoni one." I wave a hand.

Luke thinks about what she says before saying, "It can't be that bad of a name."

"It is." She laughs, taking three pieces of the four-cheese one, and I help myself to a mixture of both.

We eat in a comfortable silence before Luke starts asking more questions.

"So why isn't your family here?"

"It's complicated. We are all moving here in three months anyway. I just needed to leave a little early," she says, shifting slightly in her seat and keeping her face blank. Most people wouldn’t think she was lying. That’s one thing I’ve always been good at, spotting when people lie, and I know the siren is lying right now.

"Why?" Luke asks, not caring how Tilly tenses and looks away.

"She doesn't have to answer that," I point out.

"So I've eaten, and, now, I'm going to bed." Tilly stands, moving surprisingly quick out of the room. I have to jog to catch her at the bottom of the stairs.

"Wait," I say, and she halts on the stairs, turning to face me.

"We are going to watch a movie if you want to stay. I promise to stop Luke from being a nosy fucker." I grin.

I step a little closer to the stairs, and she watches me as I gently push a stray curl behind her ear, pulling my hand back as I realise what I just did. Fuck, I shouldn't have done that. Her impossibly blue eyes widen, and her cheeks flush red.

"I'm tired, so thanks but goodnight," she stutters some of her words and quickly runs away from me up the stairs.

What the fuck was I thinking, standing so close to her or touching her soft, fucking, hair? I don't do relationships. I walk into the lounge and sit down.

"Bro, she is hot," Luke says, leaning back on the sofa and watching me for some kind of reaction.

I look over at him, noticing how he has grown up recently, looking older than I’ve ever seen him.

"Watch it," I say, opening a beer that Luke has placed on the table.

"You like her," he says, looking a little shocked.

"No, I don't." I end the conversation because, honestly, I need to get her out of my head. She reminds me of things I can't have because of my past, like a happy, normal future.

Chapter Four

Tilly

"Iforgot how frigging awesome you always look," I compliment my best friend as she pulls down her tight, black, sparkling dress, which shows off all her curves. Her blond hair is curled down her back like mine, and we are both wearing a little makeup as I don't like it, and she doesn’t need it.

"Coming from the red-headed bombshell." She shakes her head at me with a grin.

I walk over and stand next to the mirror with her. I’ll admit, I do look good today. I'm wearing a tight-feeling, green dress that dips to show off my breasts. The dip stops just before my belly button, and you can see the curves of my breasts, which I’m sure have gotten bigger during the last two weeks. I know I won’t be able to wear a dress like this for much longer, but my stomach looks as flat as usual now.

"Come on, picture time," Izzy says, pulling me to her and taking several photos of us on both our phones. My phone rings in the middle of a picture, and I'm quick to ignore it, but I know Izzy saw my mum’s name.

"Why are you ignoring your mum? And deleting your Facebook and Twitter?" she asks, placing her hands on her hips. Izzy loves my mum, like most people, including me, do, and she must think I’m awful to ignore her calls. If I tell my mum where I am, she will come here and he will follow.

"Not tonight, no questions please," I whisper, guilt, and a slight bit of fear, stuck in my throat. It’s not that my family has done anything wrong, but I have more than them and myself to think of now. Everything has changed, and the one person I wish was here, is my mum.

"Tomorrow, I want answers, Tilly. I'm worried about you," she tells me firmly, placing her hand on my arm.

I cover her hand with mine, looking at our painted nails, which match. I remember when we both tried to paint our nails like our mums when we were seven. Let’s just say that more nail polish got on our fingers than our nails.

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