Page 110 of Tricky Girls

‘Happy birthday!’ Tilda grins when we reach the small group. ‘Have fun and try not to die.’

‘We’re off-roading?’ Haz exclaims. ‘Tilda, you beaut!’

She picks her up, swinging her around in a harried circle before landing an open-mouthed smacker on her lips.

My eyebrows twitch. Didn’t know things had progressed that much.

Tilda pushes her away, her head ducked.

Embarrassed by the witnesses, I hope, and not that a girl’s kissed her.

‘You’re with me,’ Elly tells Haz with a grin. ‘Fucking race ya.’

They roar off after some instruction, taking a path towards the far west end of the island.

I watch their lights until I can’t see them anymore. Then I steel myself and turn to the only one left.

‘Didn’t know if it was your thing,’ Tilda says quietly. ‘Also didn’t think you’d want anything to do with something I bought.’

Fair.

‘I’ve got shit to do anyway.’ I shrug.

It’s a quiet walk home, the silence only interrupted when I spot an owl sluicing through the pines. Tilda looks surprised when I grab her to show her. It was instinctive and I kick myself for it the whole way back.

At the lodge I waste no time in pulling out the balloons, streamers and other shit me and Elly managed to scrounge up.

Tilda sits with a cup of tea on the sofa. She fidgets, eyes ping-ponging between me and the telly. Don’t know why she doesn’t just fuck off upstairs. No need to torture us both.

Once I’ve found the pump, I settle on the floor and unpack the balloons. They’re all black with the number 20. It’s gonna look more like a Halloween party than a birthday but what Haz wants, Haz gets. At least for today.

‘Can I help?’

I glance up. Tilda’s kneeling near me, watching what I’m doing.

I chuck her a pack and get back to it.

She’ll have to blow them up herself. Hopefully she’ll pass out.

After I’ve done a few balloons, I stand to take off a layer. It’s warm as hell in the house. They turned the thermostat up for Tilda’s benefit when she first moved in.

Tilda watches me remove my jumper, but then when is she not fucking watching?

I’m not wearing a bra under my thermal. I don’t often bother; my tits are small.

Tilda’s definitely wearing one, the lace peeking out the top of her strappy black vest like some sort of tramp. Warm from the beer, I can’t pretend I hate it. She’s got nice tits. Perky. Proportionate to her body. And I’m getting a great view of them from up here.

I’m still getting over that lapse the other night. I’d been dulling the ache in my ankle with whiskey. A dumb thing to do with the pain killers I was on. But I’ve been known to do the odd dumb thing or two. So brazenly checking Tilda out being one of them.

I’ve never said she’s not attractive; I just hate that she is. Hate that I’m not immune.

Because I should be. After all our history, it’s fucked. It makes me feel likehim.Like Damien.

But that fucking velvet dress…

Tilda peeks at me when I harshly exhale.

I get to my feet before she asks anything, spreading out a banner over the fireplace.

---