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“Look, why don’t you come in. My friends all hang out in the basement. They’re cool. Jeb leaves us alone for the most part, so you’ve nothing to fear from him or theSkins.” He seems to spit the word out like it’s poison. “We keep out of his way.”
“So you know Zayn then?”
The kid smiles, because he’s definitely a boy and not a man despite his height and build. “Yeah, I know Zayn well. I’m one of the Breakers,” he says proudly.
“The Breakers?” I ask, swinging my bag back over my shoulder and wincing with the pain.
“We’re the Breakers crew. Me, Zayn, Dax and Xeno.”
“You’re one of Zayn’s crew?” I ask stupidly, given he’s already told me that.
“Well, strictly speaking it’s Xeno’s crew. Zayn’s just a cocky bastard and talks shit because he’s the best dancer. Xeno humours him.”
“Oh,” I respond, not really knowing what else to say.
He grins, holding his hand out. I stare at it hovering between us. “My name’s York and I don’t know about you, but it’s fucking freezing and I could use a drink. Coming?” he asks, stepping forward, still offering his hand.
For some reason only known to the old man in the sky, I throw caution to the wind and slide my trembling hand into his, totally under his spell. He squeezes my fingers and pulls me gently across the road towards number fifteen Jackson Street.
* * *
Laughter soundsas we enter the basement through a side door rather than the front one. It opens onto a darkened hallway that makes me squeak with fear. York grins, pointing to the stairs that descend into more darkness. “Don’t be scared. I swear no one here will hurt you. Just watch your step.”
I don’t know why I trust him, but I do. Perhaps the double punch to my face has knocked the sense out of me? “You don’t want to drink my blood then?” I mumble between full on body shakes as I allow him to lead me downwards, my free hand running along the wall to keep me steady. It feels cold to the touch and gritty, like plaster is coming away in fine grains all over my fingers.
York barks out a laugh, and if it wasn’t the middle of the night and pitch black in this poxy staircase I’d bet he’d start sparkling like Edward fucking Cullen. “You’re kind of weird, do you know that?”
“And you look like a bloodsucking vampire,” I retort.
He chuckles and guides me down the stairs. “Yo, dickheads! I’m here. The party can begin,” York says as he releases my hand and pushes open a door before looping his arm over my shoulder. I yelp when his hand lands on a bruise on my upper arm, drawing the attention of the three boys inside the room.
“Pen?” Zayn shoots to his feet, his eyes wide with shock. His gaze flicks from me to York and back again. “What the fuck happened to you?”
“I…”
“York?” Zayn accuses, getting the wrong end of the stick completely.
“Fuck you, man, don’t look at me like that! I don’t hit girls. I just found her outside. She said she knew you, so I invited her in.”
Zayn turns his attention back to me. “Why are you here?”
I swallow hard, forcing my body to stop shaking whilst simultaneously trying really hard not to lean into the warmth of York’s body. I’ve no idea how he’s stayed so dry. Must be his vampiric skills, dashing through the raindrops or some shit.
“You invited me, remember?” I say quietly, suddenly feeling like a first-class tit.
Zayn puffs out his cheeks, swiping a hand through his hair. Okay, so maybe he was full of shit that day in the playground. My stomach plummets. He’s about to say something more when a scowly looking kid pipes up. He’s got brown curly hair, and the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen, they’re the same shade as the grass covering Hackney Common. His skin is a few shades darker than Zayn’s olive tone, hinting at an inter-racial heritage and offsetting the tone of his eyes beautifully.
“Who’s this?” he asks, looking me up and down. That scowl turns to a sneer, making him a little less attractive. He’s friendly…not.
Urgh. I don’t like him. “Who areyou?” I retort back, unable to help myself and feeling way too prickly. It’s been a long night and I could do without his unkindness. Folding my arms across my chest and ignoring York’s surprised laugh and Zayn’s grimace, I give him my best haughty look, which isn’t all that easy when my face hurts so bloody much. The curly haired arsehole is about to respond when he’s beaten to the punch by Zayn, who’s clearly on damage control.
“This is the girl I was telling you about, remember?” he explains, as York guides me into the room and kicks the door shut behind me.
“Want a drink?” York asks, ignoring everyone but me as he gives me a gentle smile. I’m not sure why he’s being so nice, given we’ve just met, but I appreciate it anyway, even though the last thing I want is alcohol. I took a swig of Mum’s cheap wine once, it was disgusting.
“I don’t drink.”
“I don’t mean alcohol, you’re like ten or something.
