Page 20 of Tricky Girls

There.

Third floor. Tucked away in the corner.

She’s at her desk, face illuminated by a laptop screen.

My teeth bite down on the rim of the bottle until my gums ache.

She wears a black beanie. The heating must still be out, her hair blending into her dark jumper. Black on black on black.

My breath leaves as a white stream as I slowly release it. I was shivering before but now my blood flows red hot.

How thefuckcan she be here?

Branches rustle to my right and I catch the gleam of the eyes I’d seen back at the club.

Skylar, all four-foot-eleven inches of her, looks at me briefly before raising her gaze to Tilda’s window.

For a minute she doesn’t say anything, her blue eyes, the only light thing about her, assessing in that sly, shrewd way of hers.

She joins me by the trunk. ‘Cig?’

I flash her my vodka. ‘Trade?’

She raises the bottle to her lips, eyes on Tilda’s window. After taking a mouthful, she flicks them curiously to the label. ‘Was half expecting that to be water.’

‘Always expect the unexpected with me,’ I joke dully.

‘Already do.’ She passes it back with a smile, stretching the tattoos on her cheeks. ‘Don’t want any nasty surprises.’

I huff out a chuckle, my thumb rubbing at the last tattoo she gave me. Skylar’s been an apprentice at the campus tattoo shop ever since she landed here. Half of my tats she’s inked. She must have seen about every inch of my body, inside as well as out.

Haz’s and Elly’s too, in fact.

There’s not many girls or boys here that Skylar’s not bedded or tried to. She’s the biggest slut on this island and completely unapologetic about it. Unapologetic about everything. Even after a year I’m not sure if I actually like the girl or not.

If anyone had to bust my little stalking spree, I don’t mind it being her. I can’t imagine there’s much that fazes her.

Plus, she’s a really good fuck. Points for that.

I take in her outfit, a single black hoodie coming down to mid-thigh. There’s probably shorts or a dress under there somewhere, but you never know with Skylar. She seems to think her tattoos work as good as any clothing, her body decked head to toe in them. Can’t deny they’re not hot.

I return my gaze to Tilda’s window, wondering if she’s procured any in the last decade.

‘Who is she?’

I shrug, dragging in more smoke so I don’t have to answer.

‘Someone you’re hot for?’

‘Hot like the Arctic tundra.’

Skylar goes quiet again, leaning her head on my arm as she contemplates Tilda’s window.

‘You’re so fucking small,’ I huff, looking down the length of our bodies.

‘Piss off.’ She snatches my cigarette and draws from it. ‘Bean poll.’ Holding my gaze, she nods to Tilda. ‘What the fuck did she do then?’

‘Like I’d tell you.’

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