Malum part 2

Tillie

Later that night, we’re all chilling around the bonfire, roasting marshmallows and drinking mulled wine. I have Chase sitting between my legs on the ground and I’m halfway through French braiding his hair, his broad shoulders pressed between my thighs. Tash Sultana is playing through the sound system and everyone is lost in their talks. I look up to catch Nate watching me with every tighten on the braid.

“Pretty sure he’s jealous,” Chase murmurs, so only I can hear. “Pretty sure he’s about to kill me.”

I roll my eyes, finishing off his braid and tapping his shoulder. “He will live.”

They told me today that Hector had canceled the meet until further notice, and as much as that news should have settled my nerves, it didn’t. It only intensified the fact that I need my revenge. I understand revenge, though, probably more than Nate. I was raised in a world where people were cruel to me. It toughened my willpower to wait for the right time to strike, instead of lashing out at every person who does me wrong. Hector will get his at the right time, because it needs to be done right. And I still want to know why. Aside from getting me to Perdita, why did he need me to have nothing to live for? We drink more, dance a little, and Bailey pulls out her little camera again. Later that night we all settle back into our beds, but I’m restless. Bailey is snoring softly beside me, already deep in her sleep when I fling the blankets off my body and head for the door.

Why didn’t he talk to me all night?

Why is he mad?

Now I’m mad, which is why I find myself standing outside of his door, my fingers clenched around the handle. I twist and shove it open, the back side of it hitting the wall. Nate is lying on the top of the covers, leaning on one elbow with nothing but his white Calvin’s on. He’s doing something on his phone and his eyes slowly come up to mine, like me barging into his room was expected.

“What, Tillie?”

“Why are you mad at me?”

He finishes what he’s doing on his phone, not meeting my eyes. “I’m not mad at you.”

Am I being a twat? No, no I’m not. Because I’m sick of his mood swings. “Why haven’t you spoken to me?”

He exhales, tossing his phone onto the other side of the bed. “Have I not been giving you enough attention? Come sit.”

“I’m not your pet, Nate. I won’t sit when you tell me to sit.” … outside of the bedroom.

A dark smirk slides onto his mouth. “Really?”

I don’t know if it’s the alcohol that’s coursing through my body, or just the fact that he is Nate and I am Tillie, but I narrow my eyes on him. “What did I do wrong?”

“Wrong?” he asks, his eyebrows tipping up a little. “Nothing. Why would you do something wrong?”

“Can I ask you something?” I say, leaning on the door frame.

“You’re going to anyway…”

He’s right.

“Where do you see yourself in five year’s time?”

He pauses, seeming to think over his next words. Just when I think he’s not going to reply, he opens his mouth. “Living in my house.” His eyes flick to his phone. “Sitting beside Bishop as he reigns over this fucking world. Why?”

My heart stops beating for a second, or at least it feels that way, and my gut squeezes. “Doesn’t matter.” I turn on my heel. “Goodnight, Nate.”

And that, is why we could never work.