Page 12 of Tricky Girls

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 Girlfriendprinted 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 ofsuggestions, 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?’

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