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After pouring a coffee, I take my breakfast to the table where I find a military style laptop and a note. Holding my plate in one hand, I put down the coffee and lift the note to my eyes.
Thought I'd leave this out for you. The password is Decena-in-numbers, literally.
X
A warm feeling spreads through my chest at the sight of Charlie's note. Yes, it's brief, but it feels like he's here as I read it.
I run my thumb over that X, wondering what it means. I soon learn it's not part of the password because I type it in and get a warning.
Parking up at the table under the warm sunshine beaming in through the windows, heating up my back, I eat my breakfast while reading over the note a few times, chewing slowly because I'm concentrating. He's left this out to keep me occupied, just like he did with the newspapers. I smile for so long that my cheeks ache, but then I roll my eyes. I've officially lost it—become a hormonal female statistic—and I suddenly feel like I've been too judgmental on women. I've always mocked their weakness when it comes to men, the whole 'deer in headlights' stare and stuttering over words... But now I get it. Even while I'm not actually that silly yet, I get it.
To take my mind off my own inanity, I fire up the laptop but end up spending my morning reading up on French/Spanish guys, of all things. I don't know where the need to research Charlie's culture has come from but I find it all very calming.
The French don't waste time, Google says when I do a more thorough search, while Spanish men apparently like to draw things out, soak up every moment. I laugh to myself, thinking that's what Charlie is like to a T. He's quick to force intimacy but then takes his time once he has a woman in a state of desire.
Next, I look up what a capital X on the end of a message means. I'm itching to know what it means.
It denotes a kiss, Google says.
A strange sensation moves through my body, like a sinking/fluttering sensation but it makes me feel happy. He must know what an X means on the end of a message. He isn't thick.
Lunchtime comes, though I'm not hungry—I'm too hocked up on this weird fluttering sensation in my stomach—so I shut off the laptop, clean up my breakfast, and head for the gym to train.
A dark cloud comes over me in here. It's a lonely feeling, given I've always trained in here with Charlie. The space feels bigger and colder, and I jump every time I hear the slightest of sounds—like the drains in the walls clanging. I've never heard that in here before. It's so eerie.
I shower after working out, then I go downstairs and make myself something to eat for dinner, which isn't much—chicken and bacon pasta. The chicken doesn't taste half as good as when Charlie cooks it.
Stop thinking about him,I scold myself, but I can't. It's been a really odd day; odder than the first day I spent with Charlie. I've never been completely on my own before—I've always had my phone at least, in case Maksim needed to give me orders—but today... I don't know. I feel a bit lost and mentally white.
The sun setting on the horizon, I go outside and strive to center myself in meditating, reaching high above my head and putting my hands together to stretch out.
I wonder where Charlie is now... if he's safe.
I admonish myself again for thinking about him but it's no use. I can't meditate either. The longer I try, the more mentally swamped I become. For the first time in my life, my thoughts aren't flowing freely—they're just overflowing, every emotion I've ever felt for and against Charlie romping-
Fierce protection over Maksim.
Anxiety when I first met Charlie.
Anxiety mixed with a dollop of fear when Charlie told me in Maksim's kitchen that he'd bought me.
Lust.
Frustration with Charlie's prying.
Enchantment.
Desire.
Now, I am sure I'm fond of him. I maybe even care about him. I find that the most disturbing thing because I'm not allowed to care about anyone other than...
Giving up in the garden, I go up to my room and take a cold shower, then I sink into bed.
I don't sleep much this night—I'm flooded with dirty dreams: Charlie's mouth all over my body, his hands exploring every corner of my soul—then it's another ferocious day full of routine.
———
Day two alone: I have breakfast where I'm again reading this stupid note, then I clean up the kitchen and venture into the gym. I feel really isolated in here, just like I did yesterday. I find myself wondering about the gym equipment, unsure of what kind of training I fancy. I start out on the treadmill but give up halfway through a session. I then wrap up my hands for the boxing bag, hopeful it'll stimulate my mind, but even that loses my interest. I stop for a moment, stand about in a conflicted manner. I then lift my fists in another attempt and hold them there under my chin but I’m just not into this.
