I wade around, using both hands to sweep my wet hair, that had somehow broke free of the hair band that held it from my face, my blonde locks clinging to my back. I pull the elastic free and then retie my hair back up tighter and neater.
I breast stroke to the nearest end of the pool and line myself up close to the wall. I take a deep breath, holding onto the wall bringing my legs up like a frog. I kick off, bringing my arms out in front of me like I was horizontally diving. I slice through the water and then bring one arm over my head, bringing it down into the water, and then the next arm.
I swim the length of the pool, rolling and kicking back off the wall at the other end. I swim six lengths of the sauna like pool, rolling and kicking at the end of each one.
After completing the six front crawl length I switch to back stroke, turning onto my back and rotating my arms above my head and bringing them through the water.
I feel so at peace and relaxed doing this. It was one of the only things in my life that I was good at, one of the only things that made me feel so calm and collected. When I lived with Lisa, I used to swim on a daily basis, one of the reasons my body was so toned.
After finishing six length of backstroke I switch to breast stroke, literally looking like a frog this time, bringing my head up out of the water, with every stroke to collect air.
Eighteen lengths later I only have six of the hardest to do. Well hard for someone who couldn’t swim well. Butterfly is without a doubt my favorite stroke, the one I used to swim in competitions and galas.
I switch over to my front, both of my arms parallel to one another as they simultaneously slice through the warm water. I can feel the lactic acid in my legs and arms building, my muscles beginning to ache as I push them further than I have pushed them in years.
Reaching the sixth length of my butterfly stroke and twenty four lengths of the pool, I cling onto the wall, breathing deeply, struggling to get my lungs full again.
“Wow, you can really swim.” I hear the beautiful Essex tinged voice echo in the room.
I turn my head quickly searching for him.
I pull my hair from the band again and lower myself under the water, soaking my head down smooth. Standing up on tip-toes I retie my hair inside the elastic so its stowed neatly away.
“You swim so beautifully, so fluid and free.” I feel his warmth beside me as he kneels down by the pool.
“Thank you.” I reply, my skin blushing. I’m not used to people complementing me, making me feel good.
“Anyway sweetheart, I just came to tell you that a few of the lads have turned up, so just a warning. They know you’re here so they may come sneak a view.” He tells me standing back up.
I use my arms to pull myself up on the edge of the pool, my bum sitting on the tiles my feet dangling in the water. “It’s cool; I’m all finished for today. I’ll take myself upstairs to shower and change. I’ll come help get some bits ready after if you like.”
“No need Abbi, I can handle it. You go relax for the evening and I’ll see you sometime later.” Leighton explains to me, his shoes squeaking as he walks from the room.
I lean back on my hands, taking deep breaths to collect myself. Why on earth have I found the most perfect man there could possibly on this earth but he has no interest in me at all? Just my damn luck.
Chapter Eight
All I can hear from the relaxing depths of my bubbling spa bath are loud deep laughs, cheering and the occasional heavy swearing.
I am trying my hardest to enjoy the frothing water, but I can’t stop myself from laughing with them when I hear the foul mouthed lads, who are congregated somewhere in the house.
I decide I have soaked for long enough and get myself out from the bath to dry and dress. Using a fluffy towel I get rid of the drips and then I put some comfy jeggings and a t-shirt on.
I make my way downstairs to find where the noise is coming from.
“Leigh, I’m so glad she’s here, she listened to me.” I recognise the voice as Scott, with that American accent that is so god damn panty combusting; it makes me nervous to see a group of seven men together.
I have no doubt the other three men he is yet to introduce me to are going to be just as beautiful as the rest of them.
“Shut it you prick, she had nothing to do with it. She didn’t even know where I had bought it from. This is all me boys, so shut up and drink up before I throw you all out and have the bottle to myself.” I hear the clinking of glasses and then the cheering of the men.
“Boys wait till you see her, how Leigh hasn’t tapped her yet I have no clue.” I recognise it to once again be Scott. I shake my head at his typical male antics.
“Scott, shut up mate. Leave her alone for at least a day please.” That is Leighton’s sexy voice, and if it doesn’t just make me melt.
I walk into the kitchen, clearing my voice as I walk to the fridge to take a bottle of water out. Uncapping the lid I take a drink from it. I look to the group of seven men standing there staring. I recognise Scott, Leigh, Antonio and Thomas straight away. Standing with them is three very blonde and very blue eyed men. As predicted they are just as stunning as the other four men.
“Evening, Abigail. Enjoy your relaxing?” Leigh asks me.
“Very much, thank you for letting me use the pool. You have a beautiful home.” I express to him, taking more of the water in my mouth.
“That’s perfectly fine Abbi; you use it whenever you want to.” Leighton replies, standing nonchalantly against his kitchen counter.
“Well, you boys enjoy your evening. Leigh do you want me to order your pizza for you?” I ask him, wanting to feel at least a little useful.
“Already done, hope you like meat?” he asks me winking my way. His green eyes are dark and sexy tonight, the lightness of the kitchen doing nothing.
“Meats good, can’t get enough of meat Leighton.” I answer him, winking back his way.
“Abbi, I’d like you to meet my other friends. This is Nate,” he points to older looking of the three blonde haired, blue eyed men, “And Brad and Luke, as you can see they are twins.”
“Hey, nice to meet you.” I say reaching my hand out to shake theirs. All three take it in turn to clasp my hand, pull it to their lips and kiss it.
“Jesus fucking Christ guys. What is it with all the hand kissing lately?” I hear Leighton say. “Sorry Abbi, I’m sure you have enough male DNA on your skin from the group of us to last you a lifetime, maybe even to clone one or two of us.”
I chuckle at him. I’m not bothered by the gentlemanly approach his friends take on. “Not a problem Leigh, I don’t see the problem with cloning you lot though. Wouldn’t be a bad thing” I reply, trying to control the burning inside as the seven of them stand and stare at me. “Anyways, I’ll leave you boys to it, enjoy your evening.” I walk from the kitchen, hearing footsteps following me.
Outside in the hallway, I feel my body being turned around, my cheeks flush and my skin overheats. Leighton’s bright green globes catch mine as he looks at me with severe intent.
“As I said earlier Abbi, don’t mind us if it gets a little too rowdy, I’ll try and keep them under control so you can sleep. Goodnight sweetheart.” My body pulses to life the second those perfect lips press against my forehead. Lingering just a little too long, I can feel the heat, searing and potent within my veins. Every nerve ending is alive, begging for just a second longer. When he removes his lips from my skin I feel a little of me leave the hallway and enter back through the kitchen door with him. I collapse against the hallway wall, sighing like a love sick teenager as I try to arrange myself enough so that I can possibly walk to my room.
“Come on Abs, let’s get to bed and read about some sexy man who sweeps some fucked up girl off her feet.” Yes, it was common for me to talk to myself, like you’d probably already guessed, and yes I do wish that someone would sweep me off my useless, emotionally scarred feet.
I manage to drag myself through the hallways toward the library Leighton had shown me earlier. When he had asked me, whilst we were out shopping, what I enjoyed doing, I told him reading classic literature was a love of mine, once we returned home, after the apple fiasco, he dragged my scrawny arse through the corridor, and into the most beautiful room I think I had ever seen. All dark wood, shelves upon shelves, metres high with beautiful hard back, leather bound books. Everything from Dickens, to Defoe, to Austin, to an incredible first edition complete works of Shakespeare. I know from my college English Lit course that it is worth a fortune, more than I would ever be able to afford for sure, even if I saved every last penny for my entire life I wouldn’t be able to possess such an incredible piece of history.
As I stand at the bottom of the ladder that you could push around the surrounding book cases, I look up at the endless shelves. I wonder to myself over and over what I will read. I want something romantic, beautiful and poetic, something that will make the shitty life I have been living disappear and allow me to enjoy this new life, a life with no worry or danger, a life in this incredible home and maybe one day, a life with Leighton, because I am pretty sure no matter how many times I try to convince myself I’m not, I am falling hard for him, and if I’m not careful I’m going to end up face planting a nasty piece of rejection.
In the day and a bit I have known him my heart has smashed against my sternum painfully hard in reaction to just his smell, the glistening in his forest green eyes, that dimple on his cheek that appears every time he laughs. It is stupid, I know it was. It is irrational and just plain crazy to feel the way I do. But when you grow up in the home I did, with no love and then to escape that and have the one thing you love more than life itself, cruelly taken from you, You’d also clasp onto any tiny thread of hope, any slither of happiness available, and yes I am pretty sure I am making far too much out of his kindness and help. Wanting something that was clearly not there, but a girl could dream and that is what I will do for the rest of my life if it brought this incredible flutter into my tummy every time I thought about that imaginary, make belief, incredible world
I lean up on my tip-toes reaching my arms above my head, so I can shuffle the beautiful copy of Wuthering Heights from its dustless position. In my mind, in all libraries like this, (the ones that occupy beautiful rooms in huge luxurious mansions) I image them dusty, unused and unappreciated. Like the owner just merely had it to show people he ‘respected’ literature. The pompous bastards had probably never picked up a decent book in their life, just wanted another thing to show off to their friends. I can see Leighton liked this room, it was kept immaculate, the books preserved but well used. The imprint molded into the comfy looking chair was a telltale sign he was a common user of the room.
God he is just becoming too good to be true and it breaks my tiny, pretty invisible heart into a millions jagged pieces.
I decide against leaving the room to read, I don’t want the comfort of the soft mattress or that duvet, I want that tatted used chair, the one that Leighton had sat in time and time again.
I walk over to it, taking the fleece blanket that is strewed neatly across the back and curl myself up into a ball, my knees against my chest as I relax and open the first paper page of the book.
‘Wuthering Heights’ Emily Brontë, the inside page reads. I smile at those inked words, knowing that this time tomorrow my heart will be feeling brighter and my head a damn sight clearer, because to me there is nothing better in this world than reading, loosing yourself in the magical, non-existent world, one where the author depicts perfect men, and damsels who fall hopelessly in love with their knights. That is me, the ratty looking, far too thin damsel, rescued from the hands of an evil drug abusing psychopath, now living a luxurious life with my hero.
“Oh Em, why does this happen to people. Why can’t we all live with a happily ever after?” I ask the author, hoping she can guide me in some way towards my well deserved happiness.
I spend the next three hours, reading until the house became silent, the grandfather clock on the wall ticking, the bells chiming every hour on the hour. At gone midnight I feel myself drift off, the book lying flat against my chest as I breathe in and out slowly and lightly.
Chapter Nine
‘THUMP’ ‘THUMP’ ‘THIUMP’, that is the sound of an old pair of steel toe caps hitting the wooden staircase, as they pound up them rapidly. My heart beat spikes fiercely, my stomach twisting painfully, as I clench my thighs together so hard I am sure there will be friction burns as a result.
This is not the good kind of heart dropping, stomach turning, leg clenching, it is the hide, protect and pray to god he will help you just once, kind of heart dropping, stomach turning, leg clenching.
I take in a deep breath as the door creaks; spilling the dull light from the hallway into the comforting safeness my room had at one time brought me. Lately, it seems that no matter where I am it will come, the darkness will possess me, take over my body and morph it into the little girl who cannot defend herself even when inside she screams and begs for somebody to come and save her, to take her away and fix her broken soul.
The stench hit me first, as it always does. The pungent mixture of alcohol, sweat, sex and drugs mingling in the stuffy air surrounding me. It is the same every time; I am always the last one he comes to. He will use those defenseless, needy, and drugged up women over and over until it is my turn. I can hear their screams and cries as he beats them and uses them, each high pitch wail another warning it is getting closer and closer to my time. I know it was sick of me, but I am thankful he brings them here; it gives me a little time away from him, a little more time that he isn’t here with me.
I bring my cover up to my eyes, trying to shield my body, trying to give myself some kind of barrier against the beast this man was. He isn’t the man he should be, isn’t the attentive, doting, supportive guide in my life. NO! He is the controlling, possessive, angry, bitter, twisted animal that rips through every dream I have, tears away any soul I may have once possessed.