Page 103 of Swim To Me

“Sometimes. Sometimes not. If they’re not too invasive, the cameras aren’t up in my face and it’s not awful, untruthful press being spouted about me, then it doesn’t usually massively impact my day-to-day life. I can walk around without being followed or harassed…”

Delilah nods, fixing her gaze on the old cracks and wooden rings marring our table.

“Just say it, gorgeous. Get it off your chest so we can work through it.”

“I-I’m terrified about what’s going to happen when,if, the press finds out about us, Grey.”

“Can you tell me what about it scares you?”

“All of it,” Delilah admits, lifting her eyes to meet mine. “Obviously it’s not going to be nice to read if they spout mean things, but at least I’m older now, I know as long as Aurelia and my friends, my colleagues, don’t think those things about me then it doesn’t matter. But it’s the-the thought of it, I guess. I don’t want a repeat of what happened with my ex. I want, no, Ineed, you to stick up for me if and when the time comes and I’m terrified you’re not going to do that and it’s going to break my heart all over again.”

I close my eyes for a second as I exhale, feeling my stomach roll.

Peering into those beautiful brown doe eyes of Delilah’s, I nod. “You have every right to feel that way, gorgeous. I wish I could say more than I need you to trust me, and I know that isn’t going to be easy after what I’ve just done to us, to you, but I won’t let that happen to you, Delilah. I promise.”

“Grey, I—”

“A half pint, a glass of our house white wine and some water,” interrupts the waiter. “I’ll just go and grab your food.”

I take a sip of my beer, its yeasty taste coating my tastebuds, while I watch Delilah straighten in her seat.

“I’m putting my heart on the line by trusting you, Grey, but something inside me tells me there’s something here. Something between the two of us I don’t want to let go of no matter how scared I am. I want to dive into our relationship headfirst with you, so I hope you’re at the bottom to catch me when I fall.”

My heart pangs with pure, unfiltered joy. It rushes through my veins, creating a heady sensation. “I promise, Delilah. I would ask you to catch me, but I’ve already fallen.”

The hidden meaning behind my words swims around us, cocooning us in, just the two of us. I don’t elaborate, I don’t want my first time saying those three little words to Delilah to be in a pub that’s probably been here since the 1800’s.

I don’t know where I want us to be when they finally escape my lips, I’m counting on fate to be the decider of that, but I can tell by Delilah’s face she’s read between the lines.

“I’m not ready yet,” she admits, almost shyly, fingers pinching at her untouched wine glass stem.

“And that’s okay, gorgeous. I told you in my letter, when you’re ready I’ll be waiting, don’t put pressure on yourself.”

Our food arrives, fish coated in a delicious layer of batter I instantly want to sink my teeth into. Mouth-watering, I pick up a crispy chip, biting into the fluffy, steaming hot centre. While I break my fish in half with my fingers, ignoring the set of cutlery wrapped in a gaudy red napkin beside me, Delilah squeezes her slice of lemon across the surface of her fish, picking off a stray lemon pip and snapping off a piece of white, flaky fish.

By the time both of our plates are cleared, our hands are covered in shiny grease from the fryer. My beer glass has sticky fingerprints along its circumference, but that doesn’t stop me from raising the rim to my lips and polishing off the rest of my drink.

“That was so good,” Delilah praises, sliding her thumb between her lips, her cheeks going concave while she sucks. Istare, unable to help myself, vehemently trying to ignore the mental image of her sucking my cock just like that. Shifting in my seat, I spread my legs, feeling my length thicken, blood rushing to my crown.

“I’m glad you liked it,” I manage to get out, wishing I could make myself look away while she repeats the finger licking process with all five of her digits. But I’ve not that much will power. “Do you want another drink?”

Delilah shakes her head, dabbing at mouth with a paper napkin. “Not for me, thank you, but if you’d like another one…”

“Anything else I can get you two?” asks the server, collecting our plates on the way to the kitchen.

“Just the bill, please, mate.”

Fishing my wallet from the depths of my boardshort pockets, I pluck my bank card from its slot, aware of the heat of Delilah’s gaze warming my face.

“What?” I repeat the same question she’d asked me when she’d caught me staring.

The same burst of energy I’ve always felt when Delilah and I are together sparks between us, poker hot and addictive. No matter where we are, I feel it. The first time had been in the infirmary room where I patched up her thigh, holding my breath at her proximity, giving me a close up look at her pretty curves, the small of her skin, the tempting plush look of her bottom lip I wanted to taste.

I’d tried to play it off, but the stirring in my gut stuck around, unwilling to let me forget or ignore.

I felt it again in the pool at the beginning of her swim lessons, at the speakeasy bar we’d accidentally found ourselves in, on the street where she told me she didn’t do relationships. It sparks between us in her bedsheets, scorching hot, and on Delilah’s sofa while eating a takeaway from a tinfoil container, dripping saucedown my chin, watching her slurp up a forkful of noodles, both of us hardly dressed and uncaring what we look like.

Delilah smiles, gaze unwavering, causing my own lips to tick up at the corners. “Nothing.”

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