Die for You

Chapter 37

I forwent the hot shower, as tempting as it was, almost as soon as I got back to my room; remembering, and being tempted by, the luxury of that huge bath. It didn't take long to fill the huge roll tub; and it was with a satisfied sigh, I slipped into the steaming water and closed my eyes. I even allowed myself the luxury of zoning out for a while as I soaked, my phone's tiny speaker filling the room with some light tunes, the volume down low, the mood relaxed. It was, for want of a better word, bliss.

"I could really get used to this," I said to myself as the heat soaked into my tired muscles and swept away the chill that I'd been feeling.

"Get used to what?" I heard shouted from the bedroom, "and who are you talking to to? Have you got someone in there with you, Miss Sarocha?"

"I could get used to soaking in a bath," I said raising my head above the lip of the roll top, "and no I haven't, and why are you hanging around in my room, Miss Armstrong?"

"I have to go through your room to get in and out of mine, remember? Someone broke my door lock."

I simply snorted at her response and ducked my head under the water. I had indeed broken her door lock, or at least that's what she'd said I'd done. As I held my breath and allowed my brain to focus once more, I made a little mental note to see if that was indeed the case at some point, or if it was just a clever excuse to keep wandering through my room...

...and if it was a clever excuse, I made another mental note to fuck up that door lock good and proper, at least for the duration of our stay.

I stayed under the water for what felt like ages, immersing myself in the hot water and allowing it to clear my mind. It wasn't as good as a swimming pool but it served its purpose, and after all, it was slightly warmer. When finally I surfaced, lungs burning, I heard a frantic knocking at the door and Becky's worried sounding voice coming from my bedroom.

"Freen, Freen, are you ok? Freen?"

"I'm fine, Bec, why?" I asked a bit confused by the hint of panic in her voice.

"Thank fuck for that, you scared the shit out of me."

"I did?"

"You did!"

"Why?" I asked actually confused. I had no idea how or why I could have concerned her. I mean she knew where I was and we'd only spoken a second or so ago. 

"Because I was trying to talk to you, and then you went all silent and all I could hear was splashing you twat; that's why, I was worried."

"I'm sorry, I only ducked my head, I didn't think that would worry you. I mean, it's only a tub, what could go wrong?"

"Well it did worry me," she said and I could imagine the grumpy pout that was probably fixed to her face right now. "You were gone for ages. I was about to kick the door in to make sure you were okay."

"Door's not locked, babe," I told her now fighting back the urge to laugh at her indignation, knowing that wouldn't be a good idea right now. "You don't have to kick anything in. Besides, that's a solid door and I wouldn't want to see you in a leg cast as well as an arm one."

"Yeah well, my arm is nearly healed," she said, taking the bait and changing the subject, "it's been ages since they plastered me up. I'm going to see if they can take it off on Wednesday ready for the flight."

"Is that wise?" I asked through the heavy bathroom door, hearing only a muttered reply totally unintelligible over the sound of my music.

"Sorry? I didn't catch that, Bec," I shouted, "why don't you come in if you're going to talk to me?"