Ash is a fashion model, not by choice but the desire of his projecting mother. People think he's too cocky for his own good, judging him based on what he posts online. But Ash hates the brush he's been painted with, along with the stereotypes of the...
unexplained: (adjective) 1. not described or made clear; unknown.
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The first day of placement the following week started off mundane, that and the fact I'm alone in this creepy ass manor. I had no idea where Bodi is, if he informed Carol he's not coming or if he's late. I'm not entirely sure why I care so much.
We've barely spoken since he told me to mind my business last week and I kept to that. If that's the way he's going to act then I don't need to entertain his petty behaviour. I thought at least we'd be civil considering I've had my cock deep inside him once upon a time but clearly not.
Even though we don't speak, knowing he's there makes me feel less lonely. Right now I felt stranded in the middle of nowhere by myself, so I plug myself into my phone and blast music as loud as possible. Hopefully some good songs can make the next couple hours fly by.
We had almost cleared out the front room, separating used goods and damaged goods into separate piles. This time I start shifting the heavier furniture into the skip, making more space for us in the house and it looks like we've made good progress in such a short space of time.
The sun beams down on me as I filter back and forth between the manor and the skip, making me sweat buckets through my overalls. No one could work in twenty six degree heat without passing out.
Beading gathers on my forehead and I use the back of my wrist to wipe it away. I huff out a breath and start unbuttoning the jumpsuit, slipping out my bare arms and tying it tight around my waist. I couldn't last another second in that furnace.
I stand outside to feel moments of the cool breeze, clinging to damp patches on my body. My chest puffs out quickly, attempting to catch my breath from moving stupidly heavy items by myself. I'm surprised I haven't pulled a muscle in my back.
At least four times a week I hit the gym, mum says it's good for my image and my slim toned stomach and muscle carved arms make for good photographs. Exercising is my escape, from my mother for one but also my mind.
The endorphins rush through my body and it makes me feel exhilarated, pumped and sometimes truly happy. If only I can feel like this all the time.
I make one last trip from the living room to the skip, throwing the last of the rubbish inside. Music vibrating inside my eardrums, filtering straight to my heart. This is bearable if I put my mind to it. Shame we don't get paid a single penny for this labour.
Out of the corner of my eye I see a body walking straight towards the manor, I can spot it's Bodi a mile off. His tall frame and broad shoulders are instantly recognisable.
He inches closer but he's not wearing his overalls, I turn from the skip and walk back inside before he's near. I grab a bottle of water from my bag and take a large sip, the cool liquid slipping down my throat and reducing the heat inside my body.
