by Amanda Rose
He helps me out of the car, handing me my crutches. He's also got a wheelchair in the boot of his car because I'm still too weak to hop on crutches for too long, but it's only a short way from the car through an iron-wrought gate to the main door. There's a brass lion knocker grimacing at me. Not the friendliest sight. Ben steps around me to unlock the door, and leads me into a spacious living room. A giant red couch with matching footrests is taking up almost an entire wall, with bookshelves lining two of the others. I take to this place immediately. I limp to the sofa and fall back into its softness. After lying in bed for three days, sitting in the car and walking more than the few steps to my hospital bathroom has made me exhausted. Ben slides a footrest closer and helps me put my leg up. He's so... caring. My ex would have never done anything like this, and he's not even my partner. He's just a random guy who seems to like being friendly and helpful. Who has offered me a job he won't tell me anything about. And two flatmates who I don't know anything about either. This whole thing is one giant mystery. And I'm not sure if I like that.
"I'll get the others," he announces. "Do you want anything to drink?"
"Tea," I croak and he smiles.
"No hot chocolate?"
My eyes widen. Did he say the magic words? "Oh yes," I sigh, already tasting the chocolate in my mouth. With a chuckle, he leaves. I look around the room. There's a sort of roll on top of the bookshelf opposite - and a projector just above me. Instead of a tv they seem to have a little home cinema. Wow. I can't make out what kind of books these guys are reading, but on a little tray table to my left a book called "Bad Science" awaits its next reader. It's well-worn and slightly bent at the edges. One of the men must really love it. I'm not one for non-fiction though, I prefer novels; stories I can lose myself in. Books have been my escape for as long as I can remember. And now I'm in a room with hundreds of them. Two long, thin speakers hang from the ceiling to both sides of the bookshelf opposite, but that's the only technology besides the projector. No laptops, phones, tablets lying around like they did at my old flat. But what do I know, maybe they're keeping their tech in their bedrooms.
I'm still having trouble imagining three grown men living together. Isn't that a little too much testosterone in one place?
There’s a knock against the doorframe and in come two men who couldn't be any different from each other. The first one is pale and with his white-blond hair, he could almost be an albino. He is tall and lithe, his black suit hugging his frame. His bright blue eyes pierce through me even from the distance. The guy behind him is just as tall, but also twice as broad - not fat, just very, very muscly. His ebony skin is in stark contrast to the white apron wrapped across his front. Long brown dreadlocks are falling down his shoulders, disappearing over his back. I will him to turn around so I can see how long they are. He's smiling widely, while the first guy is looking rather serious.
"Boys, get out of the way."
Ben presses past them, carefully balancing a giant mug filled to the brink with steaming cocoa. I gratefully take it from him, my fingers brushing over his scarred skin by accident. Once I can talk again, I will ask him about those scars.
"Em, meet Alistair, the laird of this home," he points to the blond guy, "and Luther, our cook." Luther punches him playfully in the ribs and Ben cries out in mock pain, before adding, "And friend. And colleague. Better?"
"Yeah. But I am a damn good cook." Luther's voice is surprisingly soft, even though it's deep as a well. I think he might be a good singer. "Welcome to our home, Emily. Let me know if you need anything."
"Thanks," I whisper, but Ben puts a finger on his lips.
"No talking. The less you talk, the quicker your voice will heal. We're going to stick to yes and no questions." He glances at the collar I'm still having to wear for the next few days. "But be careful with your nodding. Maybe we should agree on some hand gestures."
"Oh leave her alone, Ben," Alistair complains. "She's injured, not an invalid."
And with that, he leaves the room, not saying a single thing to me. I look at Ben, confused and a little hurt.
"He's having a bad day," Ben explains. "He's usually a little more... welcoming."
"Which is why I'm making him lasagne," Luther says cheerfully. "He always perks up after that. I hope you're not a vegetarian?"
I shake my head and wince at the pain shooting through my neck.
Ben clucks his tongue. "Hand gestures it is. One finger for no, the whole hand for yes. Wiggling fingers for maybe."
I put up one finger and Luther laughs while Ben looks a little shocked at me showing him the finger. Just because I can't speak doesn't mean that I have to be meek.
"I'll leave you two alone, I don't want our dinner to burn." Luther gives me a final grin before he leaves, closing the door behind him.
"Do you want to stay here for now or shall I show you your studio?" Ben asks, before shaking his head. "Sorry, I didn't think. One question at a time. Do you want to stay here?"
I put up my hand, smiling sheepishly. This is weird, but I have to admit, it's better than nodding.
"Dinner shouldn't be long. Shall we watch tv?"
I show him one finger - the index one this time. I've been without a telly for weeks and I'm not really missing it. I've occasionally followed the news by getting a free Metro newspaper at the train station, but my life has been exciting enough without having to watch others have adventures.
"Mmhm, we could annoy Alistair by messing with the order of the books. He likes to have them all sorted by title while I prefer to sort by author. Luther says that one day, he'll sort them by colour just so we stop bickering." He pauses, shrugging a little embarrassed. "Sorry, I'm rambling. I'm not used to having such one-sided conversations. Especially not after how you were when we first met. Although I wouldn't call that a conversation... more like an argument?"
I wiggle my fingers. He's got a point. I wasn't very nice to him.
I point at the speakers hanging from the ceiling. I've not listened to music in a long time.
"Okay, music it is." He walks to the book shelf to our right and does something I can't see, but a second later Adele's Hello sounds from all around me. I lift an eyebrow and he shrugs.
"It's usually Alistair who uses the sound system, must be what he last listened to."
I can't tell if he's lying or not. But then, who cares if one of the guys likes Adele. It's good music.
Ben hands me a tiny remote, smaller than a bank card and almost as thin. "Feel free to change it to something you like. I don't know much about music."
I stare at him. How can you not have a taste in music? Music is everywhere. And it's beautiful.
Ben sits down on the sofa, leaving a small distance between us for which I'm grateful. I'm beginning to get comfortable around him, but I still don't entirely trust him. A tiny voice in my head is telling me to leave, to run, but it must have forgotten that my ankle is in plaster and my body is too weak to do much moving.
We sit together, listening to Adele, each lost in their own thoughts.
Having emptied my plate, I give Luther the thumbs up. His lasagne truly was amazing. The guys finished ages ago and have been watching me eat tiny bite by tiny bite. My throat is better, well enough to eat solid food again, but I'm still taking it slowly.
Luther grins as he takes away our plates. "Ready for desert?"
My hand shoots in the air, both to say yes and to show how ready I am. I'm full, but I had a sneak peak at the sticky toffee pudding he was putting in the oven when he pulled out the lasagne, and it looked ridiculously amazing. I don't know what Luther does for a living, but I wouldn't be surprised if he really was a cook.
Ben gets up to make us some tea (for him and me) and coffee (for the other two), which leaves me alone with Alistair. He's looking a little friendlier now that he's eaten, and he even smiled once during dinner when Luther made a joke. Now he's watching me in the same way I'm watching him. He's even harder to read than Ben. I don't know if he wants
me here, tolerates me or wants me to leave. It's his house, so I assume Ben had to ask him before he brought me here.
His pale eyes are mesmerising, despite the frown just above them. He's pretty; no, he's hot. Not in the usual masculine hotness-way, but he has his own, delicate beauty. I'm wondering whether it's impolite to ask if he's an albino. Is that offensive? But then I remember that I'm not allowed to talk, so for now that question is obsolete.
We continue to stare at each other, and I'm trying hard to match his poker-face. This is turning into something of a contest. I blink, and he does the same. Curious. I try not to blink and keep my eyes open. When my eyelids begin to flutter, I fight the urge until my eyes get teary. He's not blinking either, but a slight curve to his lips is slowly appearing. Is he trying to hide a smile? Then he blinks and with a sigh, I can finally do the same. Pointedly looking at his lips, I raise an eyebrow. He raises his. What the fuck. The guy is toying with me, mirroring my every move. I'm going to show him. I wiggle my ears - and now he's stuck. Not many people can do that.
He laughs and breaks our eye contact.
"Welcome to the Cottage," he chuckles, reaching out to shake my hand. I take it and he grips it tightly. I press as hard as I can. I can play this game, too. He is stronger though, and is almost crushing my fingers. I open my mouth to complain, but he immediately lets go and puts a finger on his lips, just like Ben did earlier.
"Don't forget the rules. No talking. And while we're at it, you should know the other rules in the Cottage. Some rooms are locked, they are out of bounds. Do no try to find a key. Don't go into the basement. Don't go into the attic either. My bathroom is my bathroom, no one else gets to use it."
"That's because he's got a jacuzzi," Luther interrupts us, carrying a large glass dish using purple oven gloves. Purple, seriously?
He puts the steaming pudding in front of me so I can admire its sugary goodness. If the smell is anything to go by, this will be the best sticky toffee pudding I've ever eaten.
Ben joins us, handing out small bowls already filled with vanilla ice cream. These men really like to eat. I'm happy to follow their lead.
While I'm taking the first bite - it's heavenly - Alistair continues with his rules.
"No running around. No parties. No loud music when I'm working. Don't touch my car."
"Are you quite finished?" Ben asks with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "I can't remember ever telling us half of these rules."
"This is different," Alistair grumbles. "We've not had a girl in this house before."
I wish I could talk. I'd have quite a few things to say to him, most of them not very polite. It's probably good that I can't. I don't want to offend my host. Yet.
"I'm sure Emily will be no different from either of us. And besides, she's got her own space in the studio, she might not spend as much time here anyways."
Luther winks at me. "But you're welcome to stay in this part of the house as much as you like."
I grin at him. He reminds me of a friend I used to have as a child. Granted, he was imaginary and a bear, but he was just as friendly and cuddly. Not that I think Luther is cuddly. It's just that with all his bulk, he could be comfortable to lean against.
Alistair pulls out his phone. "What size are you?"
I stare at him. That's not something a guy asks me very often.
He sighs in exasperation. "You need clothes."
I hold up both hands.
"Size ten? I would have guessed eight."
I don't tell him that I prefer to wear baggy clothes. I don't really want him to get me any in the first place.
He types on his phone while the rest of us devour our pudding. I'm the slowest again; my throat is beginning to hurt again, and so is my ankle. Once we're done with dinner, I really need to put it up again.
"Want me to show you your new home?" Ben asks as I put the spoon in my bowl with a plonk. I put up my hand and he grins. "We're making progress. Good. Can you walk or shall I carry you?"
With an indignant look in his direction, I get up, jumping on one leg to the wall that I leant my crutches against. Everything hurts, but I'm not giving him the satisfaction of seeing it.
"See you later," Luther calls as I follow Ben out into the corridor.
CHAPTER SIX
There's a brand-new phone lying on my pillow. When he notices my confusion, Ben explains, "Alistair thought you might need it. It will make communication easier. He's added all our numbers."
I can't help it, I turn around and hug Ben. The crutches are probably hurting him, but he's hugging me back, gently holding me in his strong arms. He smells of cinnamon and something else, something that makes me want to lick his skin to find out. His hands are drawing lazy circles on my back. Only now do I notice how much I've craved human touch. Nobody has touched me in the past few weeks, at least nothing more than a handshake or an accidental brush against my skin when someone was putting money into my hat. Now that I'm in Ben's arms, I don't want it to end.
When we break apart, I want to cry as the feeling of loneliness returns. But I don't show my feelings when Ben leaves after asking whether I need anything. I sit on the bed, not quite knowing what to do. It's been a while since I've had my own flat. This place isn't big; it's basically one large room separated into a sleeping and an eating area with a tiny kitchenette and a small table. A bookcase is strategically placed in between the room, forming a partition that makes the studio feel larger. A small bathroom completes my new home. I decide to skip having a shower tonight as I'm not quite sure how to do it without getting my plaster wet. At the hospital, a nurse helped me, and I had a little plastic chair to sit down on in the shower. Here, I have neither. And I'm not planning to ask one of the guys for help.
Next to the phone, Alistair has put a large t-shirt, judging from the size it may be Luther's. It will do for sleeping in, it's better than sleeping in my clothes again. The room is nice and warm, so I don't worry about it being not enough. On top of the shirt is a toothbrush and a pack of travel toiletries, the kind you get on a long-haul flight. I'm touched by the thoughtfulness. Alistair seemed so hostile at the beginning, but now that I see how he prepared my room for my arrival, I'm rethinking that first impression. Maybe there's more to him that meets the eye.
I yawn and decide it's time for bed. Tomorrow I'm going to ask the guys about the mysterious job, and why they want me here. I'm still suspicious. Now that I'm thinking about it, I get up and limp to the door, locking it. I may have started to trust Ben, but I don't know the other two.
Before I switch off the light, I check my new phone. It's smooth in my hand, I assume it must have been expensive. Strange. Who buys a random person a phone?
There's a new message from someone called Superman.
Superman: Sleep well. Call if you need anything. Ben.
I smile and am about to put away the phone when a new message arrives with a ding.
Gladiator: Sweet dreams.
Guess that's Luther. I don't think Alistair would call himself Gladiator. No message from him. I check the phone book though. The only other person in there is called Genius. That’s not pretentious at all.
I send Superman and Gladiator a quick "good night" and switch off the phone. Time to sleep.
Hands are pulling me under the water's surface, their nails burying themselves deep into my calves. I'm gasping for air, but all that enters my lungs is water. It tastes brackish, like dead bodies have been decomposing in it. I try to see who's attacking me, but the water is too murky. All I feel are the hands on my body, pulling me down. I kick, hitting something, but it's no use, someone else takes their place immediately, adding their clawed grip to that of the others. My arms are fighting to keep me above the surface, but there are too many. I'm drowning, no, I'm being drowned. I open my mouth and scream into the water, bubbles floating to the surface that is becoming further and further away. Maybe someone will see them. The last sign that I was alive, that I was here. My movements are getting slower. So
mething bites my leg and rips out a chunk of my flesh. I'm dying and it feels familiar. I'm returning to a place I've been before, and I remember now that it wasn't that bad. It's like coming home. I stop screaming and no longer fight. Something is embracing me and I return the hug, wrapping myself around them. The bites have stopped and only pain remains in my leg. I relax and let go.
"Hot chocolate or tea?"
Those must be the best words in the world to wake up to.
"Both?" I mumble, snuggling against the thing that just spoke to me. The thing. The human. The man. Ben.
He's in my bed.
Suddenly wide awake, I open my eyes and sit up, clutching the duvet to my chest.
"What...?" My voice stops working after the first word. I forgot about that. Ben is lying opposite me, smiling. His hair is ruffled and a trace of a beard has appeared on his face overnight.
"Shhh, no talking. You had a nightmare and when I came to see if everything was alright, you kind of pulled me into the bed and wrapped yourself around me."
Oh, I didn't expect him to say that. I'm trying to remember any dreams I may have had, but my mind is empty.
"How... door?" I ask, ignoring his stern glance.
He grins sheepishly. "You were screaming, so I... kind of... broke in."
"Out," I whisper, trying to make my voice stern and uncompromising. Unfortunately, he follows my command, taking the duvet with him.
At my protesting grumble, he smiles innocently.
"You said out, so I thought you wanted the blanket out, too. Better get dressed or you'll get cold."
And with that, he leaves, closing the door behind him that suddenly has a creak it didn't have last night. He must have used some force to get in. How the hell did I not hear that? And why would I ever snuggle him like that? I don't know the guy. I've had a terrible experience only a few days ago. You'd think I'd stay away from physical contact for a while, especially with men. Instead, I use him like a teddy bear.