really just don’t like the feeling of take-offs and landings. Without a word, Alex takes my hand and gently strokes my skin with his thumb. The physical contact instantly soothes me and I close my eyes, directing my thoughts back to my surprise trip to the elephant sanctuary as a distraction.
We had left the resort before sunrise in a taxi, which had taken several hours to drive us up into the mountains. Driving past the rice paddies, I felt like I had been transported into another world and I had to remind myself that the luxury that Alex surrounds himself with is a dream for most.
Our day was spent interacting with the elephants at the safari park, washing a beautiful, and very patient, female, feeding the babies and watching the talent show. At dusk, we went on an elephant-back safari through the forest, where I found myself hanging on to Alex for dear life as I tried to get used to the elephant’s unusual gait. Upon our return, we ended up eating in the park’s restaurant overlooking the lake with a view of the elephants getting ready for bed. It truly was one of the most amazing experiences of my life and I find myself smiling at the memories.
“What are you thinking of?” Alex whispers in my ear, making me jump.
“Oh, I was just remembering our trip up to Taro to see the elephants. It was so awesome! I still can’t thank you enough for that.”
“I am just glad you enjoyed it.” The plane has now levelled out and Alex has taken his hand back, and I suddenly feel bereft by the lack of his touch.
The rest of the journey is smooth, but gradually, I see a change in Alex as the hours wear on. He has mostly been silent, but as we come into land, his pensive expression becomes colder and colder. The descent into Heathrow is turbulent as bad weather lashes down on us and I find myself clutching the armrests once again. But this time Alex doesn’t take my hand. Instead, I notice him grasping onto his own armrests in a vice-like hold. His jaw is locked and his eyes hooded, and all at once I feel like I am sitting next to a complete stranger.
Chapter Eight
The rain beats down the side of the bus and I shiver in my coat, despite the heat blasting out through the heaters. Despite being back in London for over a week now, my body still hasn’t re-acclimatised to the December weather after the glorious sunshine I have been used to. Lost in my memories of Bali and riding elephants in the reserve, I almost miss my stop, but thankfully someone else rings the bell, breaking me out of my reverie.
I hurry through the rain as I make the short walk home along the square, the park beside me completely invisible in the inclement weather. I finally make it to the front door, where I hurriedly let myself in. As I hang up my dripping coat and stow my umbrella away, I am aware of the silence of the house and wonder whether Alex will make it back tonight.
Each night since we got back, I have made him dinner and waited up with no success. And every morning when I wake the dinner has been placed in the fridge uneaten. On the flight back to London, it was like the easy-going, friendly guy I had got to know just vanished, and in his place I was now living with the steely-eyed man I met at the auction instead. I am not sure what precipitated the change, but life feels very different from the easy-going friendship that we had whilst we were away.
I am about to make my way up to the top floor, where I have my own suite of rooms, when I notice the door down to the basement is slightly ajar. My breath quickens as the memory returns of Alex telling me, quite sternly, on our arrival that I was not to go down there under any circumstances. Truthfully, if he had never said anything, I would have probably never even thought about venturing down into a dark, dank basement, but something about his tone made me curious. Until now the door has been firmly locked with an electronic combination pad, but seeing it open makes me want to go down and
We had left the resort before sunrise in a taxi, which had taken several hours to drive us up into the mountains. Driving past the rice paddies, I felt like I had been transported into another world and I had to remind myself that the luxury that Alex surrounds himself with is a dream for most.
Our day was spent interacting with the elephants at the safari park, washing a beautiful, and very patient, female, feeding the babies and watching the talent show. At dusk, we went on an elephant-back safari through the forest, where I found myself hanging on to Alex for dear life as I tried to get used to the elephant’s unusual gait. Upon our return, we ended up eating in the park’s restaurant overlooking the lake with a view of the elephants getting ready for bed. It truly was one of the most amazing experiences of my life and I find myself smiling at the memories.
“What are you thinking of?” Alex whispers in my ear, making me jump.
“Oh, I was just remembering our trip up to Taro to see the elephants. It was so awesome! I still can’t thank you enough for that.”
“I am just glad you enjoyed it.” The plane has now levelled out and Alex has taken his hand back, and I suddenly feel bereft by the lack of his touch.
The rest of the journey is smooth, but gradually, I see a change in Alex as the hours wear on. He has mostly been silent, but as we come into land, his pensive expression becomes colder and colder. The descent into Heathrow is turbulent as bad weather lashes down on us and I find myself clutching the armrests once again. But this time Alex doesn’t take my hand. Instead, I notice him grasping onto his own armrests in a vice-like hold. His jaw is locked and his eyes hooded, and all at once I feel like I am sitting next to a complete stranger.
Chapter Eight
The rain beats down the side of the bus and I shiver in my coat, despite the heat blasting out through the heaters. Despite being back in London for over a week now, my body still hasn’t re-acclimatised to the December weather after the glorious sunshine I have been used to. Lost in my memories of Bali and riding elephants in the reserve, I almost miss my stop, but thankfully someone else rings the bell, breaking me out of my reverie.
I hurry through the rain as I make the short walk home along the square, the park beside me completely invisible in the inclement weather. I finally make it to the front door, where I hurriedly let myself in. As I hang up my dripping coat and stow my umbrella away, I am aware of the silence of the house and wonder whether Alex will make it back tonight.
Each night since we got back, I have made him dinner and waited up with no success. And every morning when I wake the dinner has been placed in the fridge uneaten. On the flight back to London, it was like the easy-going, friendly guy I had got to know just vanished, and in his place I was now living with the steely-eyed man I met at the auction instead. I am not sure what precipitated the change, but life feels very different from the easy-going friendship that we had whilst we were away.
I am about to make my way up to the top floor, where I have my own suite of rooms, when I notice the door down to the basement is slightly ajar. My breath quickens as the memory returns of Alex telling me, quite sternly, on our arrival that I was not to go down there under any circumstances. Truthfully, if he had never said anything, I would have probably never even thought about venturing down into a dark, dank basement, but something about his tone made me curious. Until now the door has been firmly locked with an electronic combination pad, but seeing it open makes me want to go down and
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