12

Tiv

Sunday 28th January, Year 825

I ran my fingers across the piano keys, playing the little tune I'd dreamt of. I'd remembered all of it, though I had dreamt of it often enough that it seemed engraved into my brain. I was just about to head for the pool when my phone lit up above the piano.

I'm going to kill you.

The grin across my face was so wide it could have split my head in two as I read her message. I replied:

We can argue about it tomorrow.

Her response was instant.

You bet your ass we will.

Deciding impulsively that I did not wish to wait until tomorrow to be shouted at, I stood, fingers furiously typing as if the words couldn't be written quickly enough.

Can I see you today?

Again, her response was immediate, bringing a fresh smile to my lips.

I've gotta do a few hours down the mines then I'm out with Ben this afternoon. Call me tonight?

Disappointment ebbed through me until my phone buzzed once more in my hand.

Or maybe a call now while I walk to the mine?

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I practically skipped down the hallway to my room before a flicker of movement at the edge of my vision and a sudden blunt impact to my temple made me drop my phone. Instinctively, I spun around, squinting through the stinging pain to find a magazine sprawled on the plush carpet. Marco had launched it from his doorway - his method of summoning me without a word.

Retrieving Mother's gossip magazine from the floor, the reason for Marco's fury became apparent instantly. My eyes scanned the glossy pages of the gossip magazine freezing on a picture of myself sitting in Piker's in The Grange, Alayna's back to the camera. My throat tightened at the headline, 'Tiv Hawes and his Mystery Scab'.

Alayna was going to smash that man's camera for this.

Although, it did not go beyond my notice that there were no photos of Alayna's face, only the back of her head. The photographer had selected the pictures he sold carefully. I somehow didn't think that would save him if she saw the article.

"Mother is over the moon," Marco scoffed.

"I bet," I mumbled, eyes fixed on the picture of Alayna's hand in mine.

"Although, she was not too happy at the fact you went to The Grange. Or the insinuation Alayna's a paid prostitute," Marco's voice oozed with malicious glee. "Wouldn't surprise me though."

A surge of indignation rose within me like hot mercury as I considered the possibility that Alayna might see the attack on her. Suggesting so much as a hint of her selling herself was beyond contemptible. My hands clenched around the edges of the paper until it began to crease under my grasp.

I swallowed down bile, keeping my voice steady as I said, "Their stories get grander with each article."

"Have you been screwing her?" Marco spat bluntly.

"No," I said.

"Do you want to?" he asked.

The question ambushed me, sending an uncomfortable warmth fluttering to my face.

"Oh, drop it, will you?" I hissed. "You cannot stand her and she cannot stand you. Why are you still trying to flog this dead horse?"

His eyes narrowed to slits as he growled, "I've got no chance if you don't stop getting in the way."

"Marco, she wants nothing to do with you and-" My words were lost as he slammed his door before I could finish pouring out how repugnant his actions were.

White-hot anger coursed through me as Marco's door cut off my voice. I stepped forward and hammered on the wood with clenched fists.

"She's not your toy, Marco!" I shouted, voice echoing down the hall.

Inside the room, bass music began throbbing against the walls, drowning out my protest. I continued shouting until Marco cranked up the volume and each pulse became a slap against my efforts to reach him.

Alayna was correct; he truly was a jackass.