Page 96 of Swim To Me

I love him. I love him. I love—

Chapter 24

Grey

It’s been two weeks since I told Delilah the truth.

I haven’t heard from her since.

I’ve spend most of my time beneath the safe surface of the water, more than I can ever recall doing before in my life.

Every waking hour I can be found in my apartment building’s private pool until my hair is flattened to my scalp, my fingertips are pruned, and my lungs feel fit to bursting, burning with lack of oxygen because I’m forcing myself to stay under the water for long periods of time – all in the hopes of quieting my mind. Except, it’s not working.

The tear tracks running down Delilah’s cheeks, the downturn corners of her lips, the look of utter betrayal on her face, plagues my memory. It’s etched into the backs of my eyelids, flashing every time I blink, every time I try to sleep.

I’m averaging about five hours a night, giving up after tossing and turning and not being able to stand another second of watching Delilah’s face crumble because of my own doing.

I peer at myself in the mirror, my face pale from lack of rest and not eating much.

I’ve missed two family dinners, Hudson too, because he’s been steadfast in keeping me company, never once leaving my side.

My phone piles up with supportive text messages and phone calls from both of my parents, and my other two brothers after I let them in with what is happening… what I’ve done to the woman I care so deeply about. But I’m not ready to face them in person yet.

The first Wednesday after our fight, I’d waited patiently on the side-lines of the pool at the leisure centre, hoping Delilah might still come by. Deep down I knew she wouldn’t, but still I allowed myself to hope.

It crushed me when she didn’t turn up, nor the next Wednesday, and won’t pick up any of my calls – my desperate attempts to reach her.

Every single text message I’ve sent sits in my outgoing box, sent, delivered, and received, but purposefully unread. I even stopped by her apartment, knocking on her door, and calling her name unbothered by what her neighbours might think. But there was no answer; either she’d heard me and ignored me, or she wasn’t in.

I don’t want to think about where she might be if she’s not at home, but my mind isn’t willing to cooperate with me, suddenly bringing up a myriad of scenarios.

She’s sitting in a bar somewhere, dressed up to the nines, chestnut curls cascading down her back… being pushed behind her ear, while another man kisses the sweet curve of her neck, fingertips gliding up her leg. He won’t yet know the secret spot on her inner thighs, the one that makes her twitch in delight, but he’ll find it soon enough if he’s paying attention.

They’re in the back of a taxi together, he’s faceless, but I know his motives, I know the happy twist of his lips at the thought of going home with a woman that looks like myDelilah. Both sets of hands roam, the air thick with want and desire.

They kiss passionately in Delilah’s apartment, clothes falling to the floor until he’s pushing her onto her bed, making room for himself between her soft thighs, pulling a pleasured gasp from Delilah’s lips.

Together, they move, gathering speed to reach their peaks, erasing every inch of the connection Delilah and I had.

Erasing every inch of my body, every memory, of us together. Of me.

Hudson finds me slumped into my sofa cushions, physically sick to my stomach at the thought of Delilah finding someone else, being with someone else, allowing someone else to touch her.

I feel worse knowing it’s completely my fault. If she’s doing those things, it’s because I pushed her to it, because I selfishly wanted to keep her for myself, instead of allowing her to make the decision to stay in our relationship because she wanted to.

I kept the secret knowing it would hurt her. I lay our relationship on unstable foundations and simply kept placing band aids over the crack instead of facing it head on and risking the crumble.

“Grey… Grey?” I come to at the rough shake of my shoulder. “You okay, mate?”

I shake my head, swiping at my jaw with my hand.

“Do you—”

“I’m in love with her.” My truth hangs, tangibly, in the surrounding air. I can practically taste it on my tongue.

Hudson stares back at me with dewy green eyes, one side of his lips ticking upwards. “Then, you gotta fight for her, brother,” he says it so simply, just like that, as if it’s going to be so easy.

I suppose the fighting for Delilah part is, I’m already doing it. It’s the winning her back part I’m not so sure of.

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