Page 99 of Vying Girls
CHAPTER 17
Tilda
I jolt awake when something hits the bed. Lifting my head, I spot my hockey stick, still in its bag beside me, and Nic at the door holding her own.
‘Um. Hi?’
‘Get up. We’re gonna go practise.’
I sit up sluggishly, sighing when I glimpse the state of me. Elly had wanted to see my latest tattoo, which of course meant removing all my clothes down to my knickers and tank top, sans bra. ‘I was napping, Nic.’
She scoffs. ‘Are you fucking eighty?’
I pull my hockey stick bag towards me, playing with the zip. ‘Why do you want to go play now?’
‘Because. Coach cancelled,again,and Varsity’s creeping up.’
‘Coach cancelled because her dad’s sick,’ I remind her.
She raises her eyebrows. ‘Yeah? And Varsity’s soon.’
I shake my head. ‘Well, can you at least let me get dressed first?’
Nic nods, eyes skittering over my body. I hug my knees to my chest, goosebumping under her gaze. I feel my nipples tighten, my clit pulsing once in response. So strange, to think she might find me attractive. She’s shite at hiding it, despite her insistent animosity, but it hits different now knowing who she is to me.
It also makes a lot of the past make sense.
‘Ten minutes,’ she says. ‘I’ll wait for you downstairs.’
I wait a beat before uncurling from the bed. My mind’s still in nap mode, all soft and out of it. I yawn as I get dressed. Why does she want to practise with me anyway? Is it because it’s simply more effective than going it alone, or is this some kind of olive branch she’s extending? I didn’t even feel as much hate as usual.
She’s chatting with Haz in the kitchen when I finally make it down. My mind softens even more at the sight of that black-swathed cutie-pie. I give her a kiss as I pass, grinning at the smile she can’t keep off her face.
Just adorable.Lighter.That’s how she seems ever since the weekend. I think it’s the tattoo, the one she keeps demanding peeks of. The bandage is off now, free for all to see. I’ve spotted Nic eyeing it curiously. She doesn’t approve, muttering something about cursing ourselves. Good job me and Haz don’t give a rip.
‘Have fun kids,’ she quips, tossing something yummy-smelling in a wok. ‘I’ll have dinner ready for you motherfuckers when you get back.’
The weather’s been nice ever since the storms passed. It feels like a prelude to summer rather than winter holding on for dear life, choking the island with its claws. It’s always about fivedegrees warmer on the mainland, something that never makes sense to me.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask Nic.
She walks with her hands in the pockets of a sleeveless hoodie, those hairy pins of hers sticking out of loose cotton shorts.
‘Pitches. Assuming it’ll be free if practice is cancelled.’
I grunt. Makes sense, I just wanted to say something to break the silence. I feel like a happy little puppy inside, honoured that her most demanding master wants to spend a little time with her. There’s still some unease, that tingling, thrumming awareness that makes me feel awkward and tongue-tied. Nic’s a naturally quiet person, I remind myself. She doesn’t need me to gab on.
She opens the gate when we get there. The other pitches are in use but ours is empty, the one at the far end. I trail behind her, tossing my stuff down with hers on the bench.
She pulls a ball from her pocket. ‘We’re against each other.’
‘Naturally.’
Her eyes flash as she tosses it down, nipping it back and forth with her stick as she waits for me to sort myself. The walk helped wake me up a bit, but I’m still feeling hazy.
‘Not got all day,’ she murmurs.
‘Alright,Coach.’I get into position before her, waving my stick along the ground, getting a bend in my knees. ‘So, what, we’re just tackling?’
