Chapter 5 5

Taking a step out of the water, Cahlia bundled herself in a towel. She started drying her hair with another towel. Suddenly, her bedroom door swung wide, and Thomas strode in as she made her way from the restroom to her room.

"Holy Jesus Christ." She clapped her hands over the towel to keep it in place and let out an exclamation.

Please accept my deepest apologies. The restroom was my destination. With his eyes shut and his hands extended in an act of contrition, he uttered these words.

"It's OK, don't worry." She strolled over to her dresser and let out a long breath. After much waiting, Thomas opened his eyes.

His gaze swept over her physique as he marveled at her stunning beauty. The way the towel clung to her hourglass figure, revealing just a hint of her cleavage, added to her allure. The exhibition featured a stunning rose tattoo-three delicately arranged roses encircled by black leaves-and her seemingly endless legs.

From her hip to her knee, a massive white scar extended down the side of her other thigh. Knowing that it had a history, Thomas studied it with intrigue.

"What happened to your thigh?" "Is that so?" he inquired.

Glancing down at her leg, she ran her fingertips over the scar. "Oh, I got it in a fight a few years ago."

"A fight with a bear?"

You could say that about him.

A quarrel with a man? Did he really do that? The furrows on his forehead were furrowed halfway up.

"Well, there wasn't any kind of brawl. It felt more like a disagreement that went awry. A jumper was taken from her drawer and draped over her. She tossed it into the bed after that. With a shuffle, she retrieved another drawer.

"A debate? Whom are you going to meet with?"

A heavy sigh escaped her lips. "My dad was the one. My mom and he had an argument. Holding a knife to her throat, he seized it. The price I paid was for getting in the way. He made a few swings at me, but he missed the majority of them. My thigh and face were slashed by him. I was nine years old when he departed before we returned from the hospital. Seventeen stitches were in my face and fifty-nine were in my thigh. That night, I stayed in. She was not bashful about admitting it. She had no problem telling others; doing so was intrinsic to her identity.

Ugh, I apologize. Oh, I totally would have asked.

"It's OK, Thomas; I'm over it." A pair of shorts, which she withdrew, was tossed onto the bed. "You can use my bathroom if you'd like."

"OK... thanks."

After entering the restroom, Thomas shut the door behind him. He spun around to face the remainder of the restroom as the lock clicked. After Cahlia's shower, the room was somewhat warmer and still steamy. The wallpaper featured floral designs bordered by a golden ring, and the tiles were a brilliant white. The little medications and her toiletries were all in their designated baskets. Thomas' expression became sly as he recognized their identity. Methods of preventing conception.

He wiped out his work area with water and patted himself dry with a towel thereafter. Resuming his position facing the mirror, he fixated on the drawers across from the shower.

Despite the fact that something was pleading with him to open them, he paid them no mind. With one hand on the handle of one of the upper compartments, he had walked across the room on his feet. As he opened it, he discovered twelve pairs of underwear-nearly all of them thongs-in a variety of styles and colors. With a breath, Thomas opened his wide eyes. He reached down and examined one by its hem.

"Thomas? Why? Is it almost to the end? I was about to go downstairs just now. From outside the door, Cahlia made a call.

"Um, yeah, give me a second." After Thomas set the underwear down, she shut the drawer. After opening the door, he flushed the toilet.

Cahlia stood on the garments she had retrieved from her alternate dresser. She bared her tattooed hips by drawing her shorts up over them. She sported a massive jumper that exposed her collarbones through the neckline. On her neck was a delicate gold necklace. The triangular charm consisted of just three circles-two at the base and one at the top.

He felt a pang of empathy as he looked at her scar, which was rather visible.

He seemed to stare at her for what seemed like a lifetime, even though they had only been standing there for a few seconds. She let out a sigh as she caught sight of his gaze. With her hands, she massaged her face.

"Please stop looking at me like that." A heavy sigh escaped her lips.

"Like what?" He looked up from her thigh toward her face.

Like I'm completely shattered and about to shatter at the cracks. Rest assured, I am doing well.

"You're right; I'm sorry."

No big deal. Come on, let's head downstairs. They must be really bored without us. She grinned.

Her fingers intertwined with his as she took his hand in hers. Dragging him from her chamber, she hurriedly descended the stairs. With a kiss on the back of his hand, she dragged him into the kitchen. As she released their grip, she let out a giggle.

She continued her previous pattern of sitting in the living room. Stands Thomas, bewildered. He returned to his seat on the sofa with Oliver after a moment of reflection, grinning broadly.

Earlier that morning, Cahlia had been drinking vodka, so she reached forward and grabbed up the empty bottle.

"Have you gotten through it?" Unfortunately, our supply of booze has run dry. Slumped back into the chair, she smashed the bottle down again.

"You drank half the bloody bottle this morning, dumbass," remarked Lucas.

"None of us are old enough to buy anymore, I'm afraid." A straight line was drawn across Elijah's lips.

With a sigh of relief, Cahlia rose from the couch. In a flash, she retrieved her phone from her purse and dashed to the coat rack. Afterwards, she hurried back to the couch and started texting someone.

"What are you doing?" Isaac inquired as he peered into her phone. "Who's Amy?" He asked, glancing over the name in the contacts.

"She's my friend; she moved back with me. She'll be able to get more alcohol for us," she said excitedly, chewing on her lip.

"Oooo, another girl?" Isaac claimed that she could feel his breath on her neck as he drew nearer to her.

Clutching his face with her full palm, she shoved him aside. Her response brought some solace to Thomas.

"She loves you, douche," Cahlia remarked furiously.

"How can a 15-year-old get us alcohol?" Oliver inquired.

You know what? I already mentioned that I know people who know people. Yeah, she does it too. She assured me that she could secure whatever we needed; all I had to do is repay her. In around fifteen minutes, she will arrive. She grinned broadly.

"Will she be staying?" Oh no, Lucas moaned.

"What's your problem?" She inquired.

"I'll be left to clean up, like every week." All of the boys were fixed in his gaze.

Let me take care of the cleaning. No, she has a shoot tomorrow, so she won't be staying. Without taking her eyes off her phone, she uttered these words.

Are all of your friends' models?" she asked.

"What do you think?" Isaac inquired in response.

"For the most part, yes. I brought only three of them with me when I moved here; the rest are still in France. Gazing up at the lads, she bowed.

By the way, "She does the same work as you," Elijah inquired. "I thought she was 15?"

Even though she models for a variety of clients, including clothing lines, she doesn't perform the same kinds of shots that I do. Several things are under her wing. "She said," she muttered.

"Where are your other friends?" "Mr. Lucas?" he inquired.

"They're getting settled into their house, leaving me alone." Gesturing, she expressed her disapproval.

"You have company," Oliver reassured.

"You have us now." "Thomas winked," he said.

"And I am sure that we are a much better company," remarked Elijah.

Man, I have no idea. Models made up her other social circle. Isaac spoke out.

Having her legs dangling from the sofa's back and her head dangling from the opposite end, Cahlia lay on the couch. Unaware of her toned stomach and belly button piercing, her jumper popped up just a bit. Is that the only thing on your mind? Is that you getting wet?

"Wow, you really captured the essence of it," Lucas remarked with a frown.

In response to the blonde boy's inquiry, "Yes, it is all he thinks about," Elijah grinned.

"Well, I am afraid, sweetheart, I have nothing to give you." An exaggerated scowl formed on her face as she pursed her lips.

As he traced lines up and down her exposed skin with his fingertips, she raised her head to look down. "I think you have a lot to offer me, sweetheart."

"If you don't move your fingers in the next two seconds, I will pull them out of your hands." "It was half a joke," she said.

While Lucas made fun of Isaac, he kept smirking at her. Elijah was the only one not looking away from them. As Lucas saw Isaac's actions, Elijah saw his hand clench and his body tense up. Hands were placed on Lucas's by Elijah. After taking a glance at Elijah, Lucas was able to settle down.

As Isaac's two fingers encircled Cahlia's midsection, Cahlia seized hold of them. A look of agony spread across his face as she applied a firm squeeze and then contorted his fingers, causing his arm to contort into strange postures. Cahlia sat up after releasing her grip. Sitting with her legs crossed, she faced Isaac. She re-embraced him, kissing the two fingers she had been on the verge of breaking.

"Rather sparky, aren't you?" "Is that so?" he inquired.

"I've been known to be." Smirking, she smiled.

"Maybe that should be your nickname from now on?"

"Sounds great." She expressed her disapproval with a rolling of the eyes.

"It would be a lot easier to say while-" "OK, and that's enough of that." The doorbell rang just as she rose from her seat and entered the kitchen. "Amy is here with the alcohol." She grinned.

Approaching the door, she reached out and gently placed her hand on the handle, taking care not to twist it. Oddness pervaded.

The aroma that wafted through the doorway was too much for her to bear. After taking a final breath, she unlocked the door. As soon as he laid eyes on Cahlia, a towering figure-clad in a leather jacket-rose to his feet and stood on the porch outside. A heavy sigh escaped her lips.

"You are not Amy, and you do not have alcohol." Her disappointment was expressed by her.