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“Fourteen actually. I’m just small for my age.”
“Fourteen then. What’s your poison? Cola, Pepsi?”
“Cola is fine.”
“Sure thing, Titch,” he says, leaving me to stand awkwardly in front of his friends. Great, I’ve known him for five minutes and he’s already calling me names. I groan internally feeling way out of my comfort zone as Zayn and the douchebag with curly hair have a whispered argument, and another kid looks up at me from beneath the rim of his baseball cap. His grey hoodie is pulled up over his cap, casting his face in shadow. All I can see are his lips and chin. He has a pretty mouth.
“Hi,” I manage to say.
He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even smile. He just looks at me for far longer than is comfortable, before turning his attention back to the arguing boys.
“I can go…” I say, but they don’t seem to hear me. “I’ll go,” I repeat, a little louder this time.
“Sit!” the guy with the curly hair suddenly snaps. He points to the spot on the sofa next to the quiet dude, a scowl on his face. He might be pretty, but he’s an arsehole. Figures.
“It’s fine. This was a mistake…” My gaze flicks to Zayn who is gritting his jaw in anger and looking at me with an apology in his eyes.
“Not so fast, Titch,” York says, jogging towards me. He pulls my rucksack off my shoulder before I can stop him and hands me a warm can of Cola.
“Thanks,” I mutter, shifting from foot to foot. This isn’t awkward.
“You should probably sit. Xeno can be an arsehole if you ignore his orders,” York says with a grin. So that’s Mr Scowly’s name. Xeno.
“Fuck off, York. It’s one o’clock in the fucking morning. Who turns up at that time looking like that?” Xeno growls, folding his arms over his chest.
“Someone who’s desperate and needs help?” Zayn says, hitting the nail on the head. My skin flushes crimson and Xeno gives pause, looking at me. I notice a shift in his gaze, like he’s suddenly realised he’s being an arsehole. Just when I think he’s about to redeem himself, he looks at York and snarls.
“Actually, why the fuck areyouso late? You were supposed to be here at eleven.”
“Shit to do,” York responds with a shrug.
“So you decide to rock up late and bringTinywith you.”
Great, another goddamn nickname. I wish they’d pick something other than my height to focus on. Jesus, I’m notthatsmall.
“She’s just akid… Leave her alone,” Mr Face-In-Shadow comments. He has a deep voice, deeper than the others. He’s built too. He can’t be the same age as the rest of them.
“I’m not a kid. I’ll be fifteen in a few months.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Sit down, Kid.”
“Dax you’re only fifteen yourself,” York comments, rolling his eyes. “Titch here ain’t no harm. Just get over yourselves, alright?” He turns to face me. “Go sit, make yourself comfortable, yeah?”
My cheeks warm. I like York, even if he does look like a bloody vampire. “I’m soaked. Is there anywhere I can change?” I ask, looking between the boys. Even if I’m not staying, I need to get out of these wet clothes. I’m smart enough to know that much. When they stay silent, I continue. “I have a change of clothes in my bag…” My voice trails off when I realise that I’ve basically just fessed up to running away.
“Here,” York says, handing me back my rucksack.
Zayn sighs, then motions for me to follow him. When we reach the corner of the room, he pulls me into a closet that’s tucked away there. It’s dark and smells of mould. Stepping close, Zayn reaches for something behind me. I can feel his warm breath on my skin as a dim light turns on overhead, illuminating the small space that is empty apart from a wall of shelves with nothing on them.
“Fuck, someone did a number on you, didn’t they?”
I grit my teeth and nod.
“Want to talk about it?” he asks. There’s a gentleness to his voice that makes my eyes well with unwelcome tears.
“No.”
“Okay, well, if you ever do. I’m a good listener.” He steps back, giving me a bit of space.
