Page 28 of Swim To Me

“You fucking like him!”

“I don’t like him!” I retort, tugging at my earlobe while staring into the quickly dispersing bubbles in my bath water. I thought it would help relax my tense muscles after today’s swimming lesson, but the water turned tepid a long while ago and I’m yet to feel relaxed. “I mean, I dolikehim as a person! But I-I don’t know, Aurelia, I hardly know a thing about him and yet—”

“You’re attracted to him, then?”

My lips seem to seal themselves shut.

“Yes or no, Delilah,” she states all business.God, she sounds like me.“Are. You. Attracted to Grey?”

“Yes…”

The squeal my little sister emits doesn’t even sound humane.

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! Has he asked you out?! Are you going to say yes?! Does—”

My sigh ricochets off the bathroom walls. “You know I don’t date, Aura.”

“But—”

“And I don’t do relationships, either.”

“Yes, I know, but Grey—”

“But, Grey, nothing, Aurelia. Yes, I like him and yes, I’m attracted to him, but I highly doubt that means anything will happen. Now, can’t we just leave it? I’ve been attracted to men in bars before and it’s never progressed into anything. Not every meeting means an emotional connection, Aura. So, I just need something to take my mind off Grey. A-a distraction of sorts from him so he can go back to being my swim teacher and nothing more.”

“Leave it with me, then. I’ll find us a distraction or two.”

Three hours later as I climb into bed, freshly moisturised from head to toe, a set of heatless rollers in my hair and a cupof my nightly chamomile tea already brewed and waiting to be drunk, my phone chimes obnoxiously.

Sister <3 – girls night out on Saturday?

Perfect.

By the time the working week comes to an end, and Saturday night rolls around, I’ve primped, prepped and primed practically every inch of my body.

With a towel wrapped around me, and my bedside clock steadily ticking away, I sit on the edge of my bed, staring into the contents of my flung open wardrobe.

It should be easy to find an outfit to wear for Aurelia and I’s well deserved girls’ night out, seeing as how my clothes are colour coordinated in my wardrobe and then sorted by outfit type and wearability – but nothing seems to catch my eye.

I twirl a ringlet of my hair between my fingers, twisting and tugging, as I stand, running my free hand through the myriad of fabrics hanging neatly from the rack.

Formal dress, another formal dress, three summer dresses…

The tips of my fingers slip against black satin, hidden behind the folds of another, much brighter, skirt.

I untangle the velvet hanger, pulling the silk, featherlight material of the dress out into the open.

Glossy black, ankle length, low back and cut right down to my tummy button, two thick panels in the front cover the mostimportant parts but leaving more than a hint of cleavage on show.

My favourite part, however, is the collar stitched into the dress, which looks like it should rest just at the base of my throat.

An excited flip in my stomach, I lay the dress carefully over my bed, quickly pouring myself a measure of bubbly prosecco in the kitchen before I start my makeup.

I keep my base makeup fairly lightweight, with an extra flutter to my lashes and a swipe of pink gloss. Gloss stains the rim of my champagne flute as I move onto my hair, styling it to cascade down my back.

With a dollop of alcohol in my system, time seems to pick up speed with even more vigour. I’ve barely wiggled my arse into the dress, slipped into my black heels with their signature red bottoms and spritzed my perfume for the evening, when my phone signals my taxi is downstairs.

The car journey to Aurelia’s flat is pretty mundane. I chat politely to the driver, all the while staring outside the backseat window watching the city of London, draped in twinkling amber city lights. Five years living in the capital city, and still I’m blown away by its beauty – the living, breathing heartbeat embedded under the smog.

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