Page 174 of Merciless Desires

She ignored me until the cab slowed to a standstill next to us. “My treat,” she said, yanking open the door. “After getting grades like those, you at least deserve to travel to The Six in style.”

I shook my head and climbed in after her.

Twenty minutes later, we pushed through the doors of the common room-come-student bar we called home. The Six was a barely refurbished former working man’s club in the armpit of south London. The furniture was mismatched and frayed, the floors sticky, and the service so aloof it felt like we were trespassing on the bartenders’ personal living space. But like a well-worn sock, it was familiar, comfy and the holes were the same shape as our toes.

“Don’t look left,” Remi muttered over her shoulder.

I kept my face focused ahead but couldn’t stop my eyes from flicking to the left to see what I was being warned away from. My stomach dipped. A blur of bright pink hair confirmed that Penelope Ross and her hardcore group of followers were seated in the corner by the bar.

“Great,” I replied, my voice low.

“There’s Will!”

I followed Remi’s finger to where our friend sat with his back to the room talking to someone just out of view.

“And Ivy!” Remi reached back, grabbed my hand and tugged me through the scattered chairs and tables, as if I wanted to loiter in the peripherals of the girl whose favourite pastime was making my life even more hellish.

“Remirose!” Ivy gushed, standing as soon as she saw us approach. I’d given up trying to get her to separate our names. In her mind, Remi and I came as one package. Her thick-rimmed glasses cocked sideways as her wide arms caught us both in a group hug, knocking an empty glass onto Will’s lap.

“Ivy, come on…” he moaned.

“So good to see you both,” she gushed. “How did you do?”

“Not bad.” Remi flopped down on a ripped leather club chair and pulled a knee up to her chin. “Rose did amazing, of course. Straight A’s.”

“Of course.” Will stopped wiping the droplets of beer from his leg to shoot me a wink. “I would have expected nothing less.”

I dropped my bag onto a stool. “Seeing as Remi got the cab, drinks are on me.” I forced a smile. I needed every penny I could get my hands on, but I couldn’t afford to live off my friends’ generosity forever. And if I wasn’t already on edge thinking about, well, the rest of my actual life, seeing my nemesis number one at the other side of the room had only deepened my anxiety.

Penelope Ross was a bully and she’d taken it upon herself to turn the majority of our college year against me. Thankfully, Remi, Will and Ivy had minds of their own and were slightly more discerning about the company they chose to keep. But all the other students in our year lapped up her lies and had given me a wide berth since I started the sixth form college.

“Do you want me to come help you?” Remi’s eyes darted from me to the pink hair across the room.

I fixed a brave smile to my face. “I’ll be fine. Three beers and a cider coming up.”

My stomach continued to sink as I approached the bar and realised there was only one space to stand: about five feet away from Penelope’s table. I gritted my teeth and focused all my attention on the mirror at the back of the bar. Three beers and a cider. Three beers and a cider.

“Well, if it isn’t Scarface herself.”

I recognised the name Penelope had bestowed on me two years earlier after seeing me in the showers after gym. I transferred my eyes to the two bartenders. They were run off their feet at the sudden influx of students entering the bar.

“I can’t see any scars on her face,” one of her cronies – probably a newbie – pointed out.

I practically heard an eye roll. “Ugh, it’s not literal. The scars are on her back. All over her back in fact. They’re vile.”

The crony lowered her voice. “What happened? Was she hurt?”

“Fire. Rumour has it she was lusting after some dirty old man, and when he told her he wasn’t interested, she burned down half his garden.”

I swallowed. She was right about fire, but the rest of her summary couldn’t have been further from the truth. The minute Jeff moved in and showed his true colours, I started hanging out at a neighbour’s house. He was older, fairly good-looking, somewhat reclusive. No one really knew he existed, which was great for me. I hid out in his artist’s studio, inhaling the smell of art supplies and the sound of quiet. Quiet was rare in south London. He started getting too friendly but by that time, home had become repellent and I had nowhere else to go. Sure, half his garden did burn down, taking him with it. But it had nothing to do with me.

“Euwww. An old guy?”

The arched brow lifted Penelope’s voice. “Uh huh. He rejected her and paid the price. But the scars are her punishment.”

I flicked my gaze back to the mirror just in time to catch her glide a hand over her view of my form.

“She’s repellent. Never had a boyfriend, and doubt she’ll ever have one, not with scars like that. She’ll forever be a virgin.”

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