Page 119 of Tricky Girls

We managed to make a batch of cupcakes in the time that they were away, singing along to Christmas songs on the radio and dancing with Beau. The kitchen got so hot, Elly removed a layer, leaving her in only a thin white t-shirt. It was oversized, falling over her ass and hanging from her loosely. With those 80s jeans and messy orange hair, she looked like some rakish grease monkey. Wasn’t a bad look at all.

So when I’d put my finger through the frosting on my cupcake, and Elly lifted it to her mouth, both our bellies warm from Baileys, I hadn’t looked away from her blue eyes as she sucked it into her mouth, her tongue causing all sorts of interesting things to happen down below.

And of course that was when the rabble returned, wet from the minimal snow that had fallen overnight and begging to open the tub of Quality Streets.

But even amongst all the noise, Elly hadn’t taken her eyes off me, her lips quirked in a tiny smile. A smile meant just for me, an acknowledgement of whatever just passed between us.

She’s stuck close to me all day, stolen only by her nan to make up lunch for everyone. I got up to help but faltered when I caught their quiet conversation.

‘She reckons she’s straight.’

‘And what do you reckon?’

‘Whatever I reckon is just wishful thinking.’

Those words are still going around in my head, even now as we bid her grandparents goodnight, the two taking with them the dogs.

Then it’s silent in the lounge, a startling contrast to the rest of the day.

‘Ready to head?’ Elly says with a smile.

In the half light of the lounge, I can’t tell if there’s something heavy in that smile or if I’m just on high alert from all the boozeand my own hyperawareness that’s been growing since our kiss in Vipers.

We swing by the kitchen on the way, where Elly raises a bottle of Jägermeister. ‘Fancy a little afterparty?’

‘Always.’

She turns to grab two glasses. ‘That’s my girl.’

We left the heater running on low all day so the shed’s toasty warm when we enter. Already in our comfies, Elly waits until I’ve climbed over her to get to the wall before holding out my glass.

‘Ta.’ I take a cautious sip, never having had Jäger neat before. ‘So, what does the Elly household do on Christmas Eve?’

‘Church in the afternoon usually, then picky bits for after.’

‘Church?’

‘For the nativity,’ she explains. ‘It’s the only time we go.’

‘Cool. Wholesome.’

‘You don’t have to go, oh child of darkness.’ She turns so she’s facing me, shoulder against the wall. ‘Can skive together if you want?’

‘Won’t your grandparents mind?’

‘Nah, not if I’ve got you round.’

‘Okay, cool. Wouldn’t want to offend the baby Jesus.’

‘With the face you’ve got? He should be offended if you don’t show it.’

I look away and swirl my drink. I probably don’t need this; we already went heavy on the day drinking. My mind’s still loose and soft and so very, very aware of the girl next to me. I keep on sipping just to dull the intensity, but it only seems to heighten it.

‘Hey, Tilds?’

‘Mm?’ I look up, getting caught in her baby blues. Under the shitty shed light, the dark blue flecks in them look almost black.

‘Hope you don’t take this the wrong way,’ she says, looking almost chagrined. ‘I’ve been trying to find a way to mention this all afternoon. Sorry if I’m looking into this too much, but I can’thelp notice that you’ve been looking at me a little strangely.’ She looks between my eyes. ‘Like you are right now. That you’ve been a bit weird all day. Not in a bad way, like. Just…weird.’

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