Fully English

CHAPTER 14

The door swings open to reveal a tall, black, male form matching the height of Damon. The two spud and I hear the unmistakable twang of a London accent.

"Is she here?"

The door edges open a few more inches and the form sidesteps Damon.

It's Otis. And he's wearing the same gym clothes he had on before when he and Damon regarded each other in the parking lot. From the way they looked at each other, I assumed they were strangers. But that simple brush of the knuckles spoke volumes of a very different tune.

I watch the two boys shuffle towards me and into Damon's bedroom.

I guess I look stupefied because Otis takes this opportunity to comment.

"Still haven't figured it out huh?"

Their body language makes me nervous and I find myself unconsciously tightening into a ball: my legs prop from hanging over the side of the bed to being tucked under my chin. I partially brace myself for what these two boys are about to disclose.

"Figured out what?"

Otis steps forward in preparation to speak but Damon arrests any further movement with a hand to the chest. He stops, and I realise that although Otis seems more alpha, Damon is the dominant male in this situation.

"No," Damon warns.

"Tell me," I spurt.

"She wants to-"

"Chill Big O."

Otis withdraws at the sound of his nickname and I bristle: Big O, Damon is using the same name for Otis that George uses. Alarm bells start to ring. They must know each other, all three of them. I think back to Reece's forewarning and cower. He was right. These boys were trouble, every last one of them.

My mind casts to every encounter I have had with George and suddenly I feel sick. From sitting next to me on the coach to inviting me out to driving me back to UWL – none of it was organic. It was all an orchestration. The encounter in the parking lot was staged too, I was sure of it. Damon was the master, Otis was the accomplice and George was an add-on – they were in this together.

"Bet you're thinkin' what the fuck is going on," Otis taunts me.

I straighten my posture and firm my voice. "No, I already know."

"Rah, so you're a know-it-all," Otis nudges Damon before plodding to the empty desk chair and planting his elbows on his knees. "Come on."

His fingers flick in a beckoning 'bring it' motion and I teeter with divulging my guesstimates. It made sense that Otis was the accomplice. He was always around. He knew everybody. How did I know he didn't have people watching me?

"So who's head in command?" I blurt unintentionally. I'm not sure where I'm going with this. I just know those words needed to leave my lips. "Damon? Otis? George?"

Otis' expression shifts and Damon is suddenly steely again.

"You're in this together," I pause for dramatic effect. "I'm right aren't I?"

Their expressions cement my suspicion and disgust builds in my throat. They look like twins all of a sudden – equally evil, two heads of the same fucking monster. I don't know why I'm so hurt by this. It's not like either of these guys were my friends, there was no loyalty. But this was a low blow.

"You've got it twisted-"

"Don't chat shit," I interject. "You got your boy George to try and get in my knickers and in my head," I conclude with a vengeance.