Page 81 of Vying Girls
‘My nails mostly.’
She picks up my fingers, regarding them dispassionately. ‘So that’s why you keep them so fucking long.’ She drops my hand. ‘Not very lesbian of you.’
‘I’ve had no complaints.’
‘No? I heard Haz won’t even fuck you.’
‘Wow,you’re in a mean mood tonight. Why is that? Sulking because you’re stuck here for the weekend?’
‘It’s not ideal.’
‘Yeah. Not for me. Can you get off me, please? No offence, but you’re bloody bony.’
She swings her leg over me and gets off the bed. I sit up, dragging myself against the headboard and blowing out a steadying breath. Bloody hate crying. The grimoire’s lettering winks in the light. I pull it onto my lap to flick through.
The storm’s still raging outside. Mad to believe this will last all weekend. Does that mean no power for that long too? With my phone torch on, I’ll soon lose battery. Nic attempts to combat that by lighting a bunch of candles around the room.
They soften her face. She looks almost as exhausted as me now.
I turn back to the book, letting the familiarity of it wash over me. My fascination with magic would have been cause for concern for any other parent that wasn’t my mother. But it kept me occupied, out of her face. Out of the streets, too, which could only be a good thing considering where we first lived.
‘Here.’
Nic holds out my glass, now filled with a different liquid.
‘What is it?’
‘Whiskey. Can’t be arsed to go back down for the Coke.’
‘Is it poisoned?’
Nic shakes the glass. ‘Drink it or don’t, Tilda, just take the damn thing.’
I relieve it from her, taking a tiny sip of the burning stuff. Never seen the appeal of neat spirits, not unless I’m too hammered to care.
‘This is the spell we should be doing.’ I tap the page. ‘A binding spell.’
‘Uh-huh.’ Nic climbs back on the bed, pulling herself up beside me. ‘I’d rather a hex.’
I clutch my glass tighter, willing my body not to fidget. One wrong move and I’m scared I’ll run her off, get myself kicked out her room. That she’s let me stay this long is a miracle.
‘We can do a hex.’
Nic lets out a quiet huff. ‘Do you even believe in that stuff anymore?’
‘No, but…here we are.’
‘Yeah. Here we are.’
We both flinch when something slams into the window.
‘Jesus.’ Nic jumps up and looks out the glass. ‘If a tree falls, we’re fucked.’
‘Then don’t stand too close.’ I gesture her back, feeling a thrill when she obeys.
We listen to the storm in silence for a while. It’s not quite companionable, in fact it’s bloody awkward, but I’m still taking it as progress.
The whiskey’s helping, undoubtedly the intention of it. I’m more slouched on the bed now. When we had our sleepovers, they were always in the little tipi her dad fashioned for us. A lot snugger than this huge bed.
