Page 58 of Swim To Me

Delilah: I know x

My eyes are closing when Delilah’s last text comes through. Realistically, I should have been fast asleep hours ago, but I’d made myself stay awake, eyes burning, to see what happened between the girl and her five men.

I blink sleepily, and the next moment I open my eyes my morning alarm is blaring in my ear. Unsticking my face from my pillow, I lick my dry lips, brain all a static. The book still lies beside me, my phone still in my hand, the edges leaving an imprint on my flesh from where I’ve gripped it so tight.

Holding the phone up to my face, I unlock the device, Delilah and I’s text thread still open.

Delilah: Goodnight Grey x

I’m trying to think of a reply, a way to carry on our conversation, but my brain isn’t fully awake yet, when Hudson knocks on my door once and then barges in, already up and dressed.

“You up? Wanna hit the gym before you’re at work?”

Hudson’s idea of ‘hitting the gym’ is him heading off to the weight machines, while I do a quick warm up on the treadmill, and then head into the direction of the private pool to do a few laps and blow off some steam.

We meet back up an hour and a half later in my apartment, Hudson’s hair wet with sweat, mine with chlorine, chewing at our scrambled eggs I’ve cooked us up for breakfast.

I stare around as I eat, finding no trace of my younger brother now living with me, except for the new protein powder containers littering the countertop beside my coffee machine. “Hudson, if you want to talk about it—”

“I don’t,” he grunts. “I’ll keep it tidy, keep it clean. All my shit is in my room… I won’t be in your hair long.”

“Stay as long as you need.” I stand, washing out my plate. “It’ll be nice to have the company… just tell me if you’re bringing a girl round, alright? So, I can make myself scarce.”

Hudson doesn’t bite at my joke, too engrossed in whatever’s happening on his phone and the plate of food in front of him. He’s gone by the time I return from my shower, dressed in my work shorts, backwards facing cap and bright yellow lifeguard t-shirt. I really wish it wasn’t quite so bright, in case it draws attention but there’s not a lot I can do, other than pray that it doesn’t. At least, it hasn’tso far.

“A car for you today, Mr Millen?” Victor, the doorman, asks once I step into the lobby.

No, is on the tip of my tongue, but something makes me change my mind at the split second. “Yeah please, if it’s not too much bother.”

“No bother at all. I’ll get someone to bring the car round.”

The car in question is sleek black, with tinted out windows in the back and a shit ton of leg room.

“Air conditioning, Mr Millen?” asks my driver through the plastic partition, before I’ve even strapped myself in.

“Just a little bit, please.”

I lean back in my leather seat as we set off at a smooth pace, the streets of London and the Kensington borough sailing past. It’s a pretty sight, don’t get me wrong, but it’s different seeingLondon from the back of a private car, and even after all this time, I’m still not used to it. I don’t think I ever will be.

We pull up to the back of the leisure centre, allowing me to step out and thank my driver with a smile. “Just give us a ring, Mr Millen, if you need a ride back.”

“Will do.”

At work, nobody treats me differently, something I’m extremely grateful for. I spend my morning checking the chlorine levels of the pools, waving to regular swimmers, and sitting in the tall lifeguard’s chair until my arse is numb and the right side of my face is perpetually warm from the sun’s rays shining through the glass windows.

Around one in the afternoon, I take my lunch break. Hopping down from the chair, legs stiff and protesting, I stretch them out by walking three streets along from the leisure centre, ducking into a popular coffee shop to grab a coffee and a sandwich.

My phone buzzes while I’m sitting down, Blake’s contact name flashing up on the screen.

“Hello? Everything okay, mate?” I cradle the phone between my ear and shoulder, using my two hands to rip into the packaging keeping my chicken and stuffing sandwich fresh.

“Yeah.” The sound of fingers flying over a keyboard kiss my ears. “Just thought I’d ring you on my lunch break to see how Hudson’s settling in at yours. I did try ringing his phone, but he didn’t pick up.”

I pop off the plastic lid covering my coffee cup, blowing at the whisps of steam erupting from the surface. “I think he’s fine. He won’t say much.”

“Same as always, then. And you?”

“What about me?”

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