Briefly, Tilly’s eyes dropped to Kate’s semi-naked chest before her gaze darted away.

The school bell rang, once, twice, a third time. With each rhythmic chime, understanding settled, tense and hot.

Silence.

Embarrassment lit a blaze across her skin at the sight of Tilly, scarlet-cheeked and knowing.

Carefully, Tilly returned the harness to Kate’s drawer. With her bottom lip tight between her teeth, she fiddled about in the drawer, shifting pyjama shorts and T-shirts to cover what she had exposed.

Swallowing over the lump in her throat, Kate stepped forward. “It’s okay, Til, just leave it—”

“I’m so sorry,” Tilly whispered her eyes refusing to meet Kate’s as she pushed the heavy drawer closed with both hands. “I just wanted to put your washing away.”

Kate exhaled harshly. Tilly wasn’t a snoop, she knew that. It simply wouldn’t have crossed Tilly’s mind that there was any reason not to open Kate’s drawers. “It’s fine. Really.”

She opened the closet doors and pulled an ironed shirt from the hanger. With her back to Tilly, she shrugged it on quickly. “I, uhh, I thought you were putting the tree up in the convent.”

“I was, before, but then it looked like rain and Sister Mary Monica was supervising the girls so I went to get the washing in.” Tilly’s voice was raspy. “I’m truly sorry, Kate.”

Kate’s heartbeat pounded as she poked buttons through the holes, watching in the mirror as Tilly grabbed the half-empty washing basket from her bed. Kate cleared her throat. “I have a meeting with Mia’s parents,” she said. “They’re probably already here, so…”

She crossed the room and reached for the gold watch she’d forgotten on her bedside table that morning. Her hands trembled as she fumbled with the bands. She pressed her wrist against her abdomen for leverage.

Tilly lowered the basket to the mattress and stepped around the bed. She reached for Kate’s wrist. “Let me…”

Head-spinning, she let Tilly fold the clasp into place. As she carried her gaze over Tilly’s features—the slightest protrusion of her chin, her fine nose, porcelain skin—a sudden urge to kiss Tilly overcame her. It was strange, the marriage of anxiety and arousal, the need to run, the equal, all-consuming need to press Tilly back on the bed and discover every inch of her skin in ways Tilly had probably never imagined. With Tilly’s fingers curled around her wrist, her thumb pressing the clasp to lock, Kate’s fist tensed, contracted like a Venus flytrap.

Tilly looked up.

As though sensing that Kate was on the verge of saying something she didn’t want to hear, she suddenly turned. She swiped the washing basket from the bed and held it against her belly like a shield. She wet her lips. “You looked angry,” she said, hesitant. “When you came inside…”

Kate released a hollow laugh.

Tilly’s eyes widened slightly. “What is it?”

“You remember when we were kids and Mackenzie Henley caught that baby possum? Decided it was our school mascot until Sister Hattie found out about it and made her set it free?”