Page 27 of Vying Girls
So, of course, that means Mafia.
The girl flashes Tilda a cool smile as she passes, receiving one in reply. Margot, for her part, makes a good game of pretending we don’t exist.
‘Who was that?’
‘Aurelie. She’s in my elective. She’s housemates with Nic’s friends. You know, Blakely and that Fina girl.’
I grumble at the mention of Blakely. That gargantuan asshole scared my girl and made her late for our very important lunch date.
‘Is she gay?’
‘Dunno. Didn’t think so at first, but I kind of get the feeling she might be. Thinking that with everyone at the moment though.’
I chuckle. ‘Welcome to my life. Most aren’t, just so you know. Save yourself the disappointment.’
‘Thanks, but the girls I’m into most definitely are.’
We wend right, through a dark, empty corridor to the foot of the east tower.
‘Ugh. These fucking stairs.’
‘Be worth it,’ Tilda assures, opening the ancient door and starting up them. ‘I’ll have a surprise waiting for you at the top.’
‘Sure, because you’ll get there before me.’
She laughs, the sound echoing off the stone as she disappears around the spiral. ‘An even more exciting surprise than that, I promise.’
Don’t know if the stairs have multiplied or I’ve just got more unfit, but it seems to take even longer to reach the top of them today. Which doesn’t make sense considering how much sex I’ve been having. Strapping Tilda is a workout all in itself. That girl can just keep going and going.
Not that I’m complaining.
I watch as she catches her breath by the window. She looks cute. Sexy-cute. In black, as usual, ripped up jeans and a plaid shirt. It’s still cold enough on Hazelhurst for coats, but I think everyone’s making the most of the milder weather following the storms.
It’s only a break. They’re due to start up again, this time with a vengeance. They’re putting the whole island on lockdown. No ferries to the mainland or to Little Hazel.
Won’t last too long, I’m hoping. Need to visit the fam soon.
Tilda turns to me with a smile. ‘Made it then. Food for your troubles?’
She lays a blanket over the stone floor, right by the pillar like last time. From the picnic basket she pulls a posh bottle of pink lemonade and various beige picky bits.
‘The olives are for me,’ she says, putting them to one side.
I screw my face up. ‘Well, they’re certainly not for me. So. What’s this surprise then?’
She pats the place next to her, encouraging me to sit. ‘Good things come to those who wait, Elly-Belly.’
I flop down beside her with a smile. ‘Gonna tell my nan you’re calling me that.’
‘Can’t see her disapproving.’
‘No, she likes you too much.’
Tilda keeps her eyes averted. ‘Does she?’
I tweak her nose. ‘Yes, little fish. She does.’
‘Well, good. Because I like her too.’ Sitting against the pillar, she parts her legs and gestures me between them.
