Page 35 of The Absence of You
Despite her being mad at me for taking her by surprise, she continues to cling to me, clearly not ready to take her chances with the pool quite yet. My body recognises her now familiar scent of sweet coconut, and it takes everything in me not to kiss her again like I did on Saturday. “You could have given me some warning. I could have drowned!”
I slowly loosen my arms, and I watch her face as she realises she can easily reach the floor, the water only coming up to her chest. “Oh.”
Her cheeks flush as she registers she was never in any danger of drowning, and she takes a small step back away from me. I immediately miss her closeness. I adjust myself discreetly in my shorts. I seem to have a permanent boner when she’s around me, and I’m not used to feeling out of control of my body. I’ve never been like this around a girl before. I need to get a grip of myself. I said I’d teach her to swim, and I want that for her, so I try and get into coaching mode.
“Right, we’ll start with your legs, grab onto the side of the pool, and let your legs float out behind you.” I stand close to her as she follows my instructions and quickly grasps each technique I explain to her. Despite her initial nerves and clear lack of experience, she is a natural in the water. She isn’t going to be swimming in galas anytime soon, but it won’t take many sessions for her to master a couple of different strokes. I glance at my watch and see we’ve been at it for nearly an hour. As much as I don’t want this session to come to an end, I’m conscious that she must be starting to tire,
“Time to call it a day. I’m impressed. You’ve done well.” I tell her. “Let’s get dry, and I’ll grab us a drink and a snack.” I push myself up and out of the pool as she heads to the corner to use the ladder.
As she climbs out, I pass her a towel from the towel warmer. She thanks me and looks away shyly. I’m pretty sure she was just checking me out, and my groin stirs at the thought of her fighting the same attraction I am. She wraps the fluffy white towel around herself as I head to the door,
“I’ll get changed in my room if you want to use the pool room shower. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
“Sure.” She nods.
Twenty minutes later, Dahlia wanders into the kitchen just as I finish tipping a couple of bags of crisps into a bowl. I place them on the island and pour two glasses of smoothie out of the blender. Dressed in her jeans and t-shirt, tendrils of her damp hair escaping her hair tie, she looks just as hot as she did in her swimsuit. I like this look on her more than any other.
She studies the kitchen, “Looks nice in here. You’ve had a new one put in.” She sits down on one of the barstools next to the island in the middle of the room.
“Yeah, it was put in about a year ago.”
Sitting down opposite her, I slide one of the glasses over to her and watch her take a long gulp. She looks up at me.
“Mmm, this is really nice. What’s in it?”
“It’s mango and pineapple,” I tell her casually, watching the panic cross her face as she jumps out of her seat.
“I’m allergic to pineapple!” Almost as soon as the words leave her mouth, she spots the smirk on my face and realises I’m joking. “You wanker!” she exclaims, coming around to my side of the island. She lightly punches me on the arm as I try not to laugh.
“Did you really think I’d forget that?” I tilt my head and study her, the air between us suddenly tense. “I haven’t forgotten a single thing about you.” Dahlia bites down on her lip, her pupils dilated. She opens her mouth to say something, but she’s interrupted when the kitchen door swings open loudly behind her and my mother walks in.
“Grayson, you’re here.” She drops a few shopping bags onto the floor, waving at me dismissively and ignoring Dahlia completely. “Get the rest of the bags from my car.” I don’t miss that it’s an instruction, not a request, and I’m sure Dahlia hasn’t either.
“Yes Mum,” I take the keys she’s thrown onto the worktop and trudge out of the room.
“And Grayson? Put them in my room and make me a drink.” She continues, “Oh and Coach Swanson phoned. Something about needing permission for you to miss a week of school for a swimming competition in Scotland of all places. You know your father and I aren’t keen on you pursuing that ridiculous hobby. I told her you won’t be attending. You need to focus on your A-levels and the family business now.” She sits down on the small sofa in the corner of the kitchen, removes her high heels and starts scrolling through her phone, not even sparing me a glance. Meeting Dahlia’s concerned gaze, I silently curse my mother’s bad timing.
“Where’s my drink?” She snaps impatiently. Assuming Dahlia would want to leave, instead, I watch as she confidently strides over to the coffee machine and turns it on.
“Does she still drink it black?” She starts opening cupboards, looking for the cups.
“You don’t need to do that. I can manage.”
“I know that, but Dee isn’t home for another hour, so if it’s okay, I’ll hang out here a bit longer.” She busies herself in the kitchen as my mum continues to scroll through her phone, ignoring the exchange between the two of us.
Shame at the way I let my mother speak to me washes over me, but Dahlia doesn’t look at me with pity. She looks at me the same way she always had, like whatever is going on, we’re in it together. And honestly? I’m not sure what to do with that.
Chapter Thirty
DAHLIA
After meeting all of Melissa’s demands, Grayson ushers me out of the kitchen and into the hall. He picks my bag up off the floor, and we leave the house, closing the front door quietly behind us.
“Have you got time to come with me somewhere?” He looks tired, and there’s a sadness behind his eyes which is way too familiar. I nod, thinking we are going to get in his car, but he walks towards the fencing between his and Dee’s garden. He pushes the loose panel to the side and I follow him. Instead of going toward the house, he leads me along the path until we reach the far corner of the garden.
Behind the small overgrown orchard, there’s an old summer house. You can’t see it from the main house, and despite the hours we spent playing in there as kids, I hadn’t thought about it since I got back. Dark green ivy and climbing plants have almost covered one side of it, and Grayson has to lift them out of the way so he can get to the door handle. He gives it a sharp tug, and it opens outwards. I hesitate. I have visions of three years’ worth of cobwebs and spiders, and goodness knows what else that might have made this place its home. But Grayson just walks straight in.
He unhooks a lantern from the wall and switches it on before placing it on the small oval table in the centre of the summer house. The room is immediately limned in light, shadows dancing on the wooden slatted walls. I follow him in, and it’s like walking into the past. The old striped woven rug is still in the centre of the worn wooden floor, and the two seater wicker sofa is still pushed up against the back wall. The rustic painted bookshelf and my toy box are even here. I’m surprised to see it’s actually pretty cobweb free. We used to spend a lot of time in here. When the weather was bad, we’d spend hours playing board games, reading or just hanging out.
