Page 9 of Tricky Girls

Shaking my head, I tap the phone screen. ‘I’m locked out.’

‘1759.’

‘And the PIN for your card?’ I murmur, transferring her number to my contacts.

‘Stick it through the letterbox when you’re done.’

I pull on the jacket once I’ve done that, rolling up the too-long sleeves. ‘Thanks for this.’

‘Poor substitute for my arm around you but it’ll do. Can sleep in it if you want, in case you miss your boyfriend.’

‘I have no boyfriend.’

‘That’s my girl.’ She smiles, fluffing out her hair with a hand. ‘Go easy, hey, Tilds? Text me when you get in so I’m not up worrying.’

CHAPTER 3

Nic

The shower’s blistering, scalding my back, stinging my wounds, abrading every inch of skin it touches.

Shame it does fuck all for the mess in my head.

The tiny bathroom’s a steam room when I get out, too hazy to see the state of myself in the mirror.

Can only be a good thing.

Not bothering with a towel, I cross to my bedroom. No need to. No one hassles me at the top here, my sanctum outside of the pine forests I call home more than this lodge.

So hot the water was, only my hair’s dripping by the time I redress, pulling on joggers and a crumpled tank. The steam’s managed to reach even here, fogging my mirror and window. I catch sight of myself as I pace, too restless now to call it a night.

I’d been exhausted after my cathartic trip through the forest, rejuvenated only by a quick stop to the Fright Night thing going on. I stare at the Ghostface mask, unable to recall who I filched it from.

I wasn’t too surprised to see Haz and Elly crashed out with some girl in the living room. It’s like a revolving door here between the three of us. Too much sometimes, hence the need to escape to the trees.

It hadn’t been above me to fuck with her in the kitchen. It was Halloween after all, and I’d liked what I’d seen of her on the sofa. Chances were, if she was in this house, she was gay. And if not, well, she’d still be fun to fuck with.

If only I hadn’t turned that damn light off. If only I hadn’t pushed up against her body, feeling every dip and lump below that slutty number. If only she hadn’t smelled like toffee apples and cherries.

It hit me the moment Haz threw the light on.

Hit, struck, pulverised.

The tempered rage rushing back in.

The dam broken.

I wasn’t expecting it. I never am, despite carrying the girl like a haunted talisman around my neck.

Tossing her from the house was a mercy for all.

I hoped I was wrong, by some fucking miracle, only to have it confirmed when I asked Elly her name.

Tilda.

Matilda fucking Kingston.

Jesus.

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