Page 13 of Tricky Girls

She purses her lips. ‘I’m scared to say yes. Feel like you’ll jump on it.’

‘Jump on you, more like.’

‘See!’ Elly points a finger. ‘Consent problem.’

‘And that,bro,is exactly why I get more pussy than you.’

‘Anyway,back to the task at hand.’ She cranes her head towards the wall clock. ‘I can’t be here forever. Got shit on this afternoon.’

‘Well, I’m all out of ideas.’

‘How about a horror film?’ Tilda says. ‘Like a folk kind of thing.’

I make a continue gesture with my hand. She sits up, letting out a hum that vibrates right through me.

‘How about…something about a witch. Maybe a ghost witch. Something bad might have happened and she haunts the placeseeking for revenge.’ She releases a loud sigh, eyes on the ceiling as she thinks. ‘Maybe…I dunno, could be a woman who was born with some kind of mark that makes her a witch. Something like that. She’s cast out to the forest when she reaches a certain age and shunned by the village, apart from one boy who ends up falling in love with her—’

‘Why not a girl?’

‘Dude,’ Elly snaps, ‘let her go on.’

‘And then,’ Tilda continues, ‘—and this is a bit Romeo and Juliet—but the village could get wind of their affair and stage the boy’s death to get them to split up. Witch jumps off cliff to follow him. Boy isn’t really dead. Problem solved. Apart from, you know, her haunting the woods for all of eternity, pushing people into the sea as revenge.’

A silence falls after she finishes, broken only by the relentless ticking of the clock.

Elly taps her pen on her lips, staring at Tilda from over her glasses. ‘Dark bro.’

Tossing down her own pen, Tilda gives a quick shrug. ‘Or not.’

‘No, I think I’m down.’ I give it a run through in my mind. Tilda would be our witch, obviously. She would look good in some long black dress and her hair’s the wavy kind that would probably bush up well when backcombed. Maybe she’ll even let me be the one to do the combing. With a backdrop of pine trees and cliffs and creepy-ass buildings, it could be ace. ‘Let’s do it.’

Tilda smiles. ‘Cool.’

She sits back to finish her tea, lips getting shiny as she sips. They’re pale today, no longer stained red by cherryade. They’re like cartoon lips, all plump and full and shaped like rosebuds—whatever that means. She’d look hot with some dark red lipstick, even hotter with black. It would go with the silver chains she has layered on her neck, a cross, pentagram and bat pendant winking in the light.

Downing the rest of my coffee, I smack down my mug. ‘Right. Now that’s sorted, shall I shuttle us in some lunch? I’m starved.’

‘Don’t have any food amongst all the shit in your kitchen?’ Tilda teases.

I narrow my eyes. I’m not sure I’m capable of feeling shame but if I was, it for sure wouldn’t be over the state of the house. ‘Judge not, straight girl. You kiss boys—willingly.’

‘True,’ she says around a yawn. She looks wrecked this morning, eyes still raw from blubbing. ‘Boys are gross.’

They are, and they also don’t seem to have the sense God gave them to treat their girls right. The state of this one here…wouldn’t mind decking the fucker for a second time.

She reaches up with her arms to stretch, pushing those little tits that bit closer to me. Then she follows that up with a mewling sound that has even Elly shifting in her place.

She seems to favour the colour black, like me, today sporting worn skinny jeans and a frayed cropped jumper just one shade darker. She’s still in yesterday’s makeup, that much is clear to see, and her hair smells like the cherryade she’d been drinking.

Hell, she’s still fit though.

And I’m a sucker for a crying girl.

I flex out my right hand, still feeling the impact of my ring against that asshole’s face. Bony little prick. Like a blackbird, all narrow and pointy. No substance at all. Must be hiding a big dong or something. Straight girls always do have a low bar.

Tilda…she’s fucking beautiful. Lithe and proportionate and all dreamy in the face. She could have anyone. She could have me. Even Elly would be a step up.

I shake my head. World doesn’t make any bloody sense sometimes.

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