Three Floors Down (W2S)

lending a helping hand

Delilah and I seem to start making time for each other in the next month. I usually come down to spend time in her flat, which is meticulously clean apart from her room. I've saw in to it once and noticed photos completely clutter her white walls. She can often be found eating strawberries, which I find completely Delilah-esque. She enjoys her college placement now, which is nice to see. The best thing is she talks to me, we have the most oddest conversations sometimes that it makes me wonder about her even more. 

I walk to the lift, already late for a meeting and knowing the boys will kill me. I quickly press the garage floor number and tap my foot against the floor, trying to somehow make the lift speed up. I feel the lift shake slightly as it touches the bottom floor and basically pry the doors open to get out. I jog towards my car and feel myself do a double take as I turn to see a car pulling in, there she is. She doesn't drive though, she's told me; she loves to walk everywhere, she finds it peaceful. I notice a boy driving the car, he only looks twenty three, twenty four at the oldest. He parks the car and I watch as they hug, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and I feel a pang of jealousy at the scene. 

She has never hugged me like that.

She has never even hugged me.

I rush to my car and slam the door, pulling out from my space and avoid looking at the car again; afraid I'll see something else that makes my stomach drop even further.

I return home a few hours later, still annoyed from earlier. The boys noticed. But didn't ask questions, knowing it would madden me even more. I enter the lift and go to press the button for my floor but find myself pressing the button which is three floors down. I nervously gnaw at my lip as the lift seems to run even slower than normal. Finally, the doors open and I find myself on Delilah's floor. I walk to her door and knock gently, knowing she hates a lot of noise. Less than fifteen seconds later she opens the door, but I give her a weird look as she hides behind it. I then notice she's only dressed in a towel, which barely reaches her mid-thigh. My eyes travel down her body and I feel my heart spin a million times at the sight. She is gorgeous.

"Hey, uh-this is slightly awkward." She mumbles, trying to hide even further behind the door.

"Uh-I can wait." I awkwardly rub the back of my neck and she shakes her head.

"Here, come in, I'll only be two minutes." She opens the door wider and I enter. 

She quickly closes the door and like lightning she disappears back in to her bedroom. I can't stop thinking about her body. I shouldn't think that. She potentially has a boyfriend. 

She reemerges around two minutes later, keeping to her earlier estimation. She's dressed in a pair of grey joggers and a black vest, a Converse hoodie covering her arms. I notice her hair is tied back, droplets of water falling from the strands every so often.

"How was your day?" She politely asks, sitting across from me at her dining table.

One things Delilah always seems to do, without fail, is ask how my day is going. She never doesn't ask. She will listen to me rant if I'm annoyed 'cause I can't come up with a video idea or she'll laugh with me as I tell her what the boys did that day, because it's usually something stupid/embarrassing. She doesn't seem to mind when I talk, I think she likes that I don't make her talk as much about her. Whenever I ask about her day, she'll simply say it was 'fine' or 'good' or 'alright'. I wish she would tell me more.

"Not too bad, was late for a meeting which was annoying." I reply, she chuckles.

"You're always late." She acknowledges.

"Sometimes." I laugh with her.

"So, what's up?" She asks, resting her chin in the palms of her hands.

"Where do you go every Wednesday?" I blurt out, immediately regretting my question.

Her eyes soften slightly, "why?"

"I-just, I saw you this morning." I shrug.

"Where?" She seems a little worried.

"In the garage, I was getting in my car and I noticed you drive in-well, some guy drove you in." I mumble, avoiding eye contact.

"Oh, right." She mumbles back.

"Is he your boyfriend?" I burst out with the question before I can even stop myself.

"What? Oh God, no." She chuckles, a smile etching its way on to her pale lips.

"Why are you laughing?" I ask, confused.

"You thought he was my boyfriend?" She giggles.

"Well, you guys hugged." I shrug, not understanding the situation and craving a little context.

"Because he's my brother, genius." She shakes her head, still smiling slightly.

"He-he's your brother." I repeat, feeling my cheeks heat up.

"I don't have a boyfriend and if I did, I'd tell you." She smiles.

"Sorry, I just-I dunno, it just bothered me." I sigh.

"Why?" She asks back.

"I don't know, to be honest." I reply.

"Well, he's my older brother, he was just driving me back from something." She says, getting up and walking towards the kitchen.

"So, is that where you go every Wednesday? Out with your brother?" I ask, following her.

"Uh-no, not exactly." She stands on her tiptoes, trying to grab a bowl from one of her cabinets.

I come up behind her and reach for it, our hands skimming. She looks down nervously and I place the bowl on the counter.

"Thanks." She mumbles.

"So, where do you go?" I question.

She sighs, "it's just a meeting thing I go to." 

"What kind of meeting?" I ask.

"What is this? Interrogate Delilah?" She snaps.

Silence consumes the room and I feel my eyes widen, she has never snapped before, nor has she ever got angry.

"I just want to know about you." I whisper.

"I'm not worth knowing about." She whispers back.

"Oh, believe me, you are." I reply.

I can see she's thinking and wait patiently for her to say something, then she does.

"I have therapy sessions." She says in hushed tones.

"For-for your anxiety?" I ask.

She nods.

"Don't be embarrassed by it." I say, walking to stand next to her.

"Of course I'm embarrassed, I'm a twenty year old who can't go in to shopping centres because I freak out, I can't go swimming because I am uncomfortable in my own body, I can barely talk to people without coming off as an anti-social weirdo, so-excuse me if I feel embarrassed by my constant lack of a life." She abruptly says, tears swimming in her pretty eyes.

"Delilah, I-" I begin but she cuts me off.

"I think you should go." She whispers.

"Hey, don't shut me out now, I just want to help." I place my hand on hers and she stares at it.

"You can't help me." She mumbles, before retracting her hand and walking back to her bedroom, slowly closing the door.

I stand in silence.

Wishing I could go after her.

But knowing she won't want me to.