Breaking Point (Drew Ashley 1) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Group Discussion Question

  British and American Words

  Back Matter

  Links

  Breaking Point

  A Drew Ashley Novel

  By

  Dayo Benson

  Breaking Point (Drew Ashley 1)

  © Copyright 2012 by Dayo Benson

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without written permission from the author. The only exception is brief quotations in a book review.

  Some scripture is taken from the New International Version of the Bible.

  Cover design by Ade Benson

  Visit the author's website at www.dayobenson.com

  Dedication

  To everyone who has ever reached their breaking point. God knows.

  Chapter 1

  Everywhere I looked, there were topless guys. Usually the men's changing room bulged with overweight baldies, but today, it was like it was Hotties Only Day at Gym21. They strutted around, towelling off their toned physiques and solid frames, while my mouth went Sahara dry. I supposed it would be most girls' idea of heaven, but for me it was uncomfortable. I felt like an intruder, a spy.

  I lowered my gaze. "Can you hurry up, so that we can get out of here?" I whispered to my friend, Jazzlyn Cotton, who seemed pretty unflustered by the sea of bare chests.

  Jazz craned her neck, looking around the men's changing room for the janitorial trolley, while the guys eyed us amusedly and flexed their abs. "I hung the notice about female attendants," she said casually. "So I doubt any of them have a problem with our presence."

  The sharp smell of chlorine mingled with the scent of male aftershave and cologne. It was a dizzy combination that rendered me almost as giddy as the sight before me.

  I stepped aside as a man whose skin looked like pure, golden honey crossed the room, his dark hair in tight, water-induced curls. If these guys were a tribe, this man would be their chief. He was pure perfection. I adjusted my navy blue Gym21 top nervously as he walked past, brushing me lightly.

  I swiped away the drops of water that had landed on my sleeve. They were tangible evidence that the scene before me was no vision, no figment of my imagination. I was hanging on to my three-month-old salvation by a frail thread—and even that was in danger of being snipped in two by the ruthless razor of lust. God help me, but where on earth did these men come from?

  "I'm just here for your moral support," I whispered to Jazz, who hadn't even noticed Mr Finest of Them All. "You're the one that's going to get the trolley."

  Jazz nodded, unfazed, as she continued her search of the room.

  Just then the door banged open bringing with it a gust of stale air as a group of average Joes entered the changing room, and started stripping down. Good. The oppressive 'hunk aura' that filled the room needed diluting.

  "Oh, there it is!" Jazz said, sighting the reason for our venture into this chamber of temptation.

  I hung back while she cut across the room and went to retrieve the trolley that came complete with a mop and bucket. Men shifted out of her way as she wheeled it towards the door. I held the door open and followed her out of the dank humidity of the men's changing room.

  "You handled that pretty well for a prudish Christian," I teased when we got out into the hallway.

  "You handled that pretty badly for an experienced Jezebel," she deadpanned.

  I was shocked. She was my friend so I could take it, but she deserved a good jab with my elbow for that. I was about to give it to her when she ducked and I went flying into a man in swimming shorts as he emerged from the men's changing room, his beer belly three seconds ahead of him.

  "I'm so sorry!" I gasped.

  The man steadied me and walked away toward the pool entrance with a grunt. I stared after his bare back, mortified.

  Jazz laughed. "Why did I not have my phone ready to video that? It would definitely have gone viral. We could be Internet sensations and quit our jobs in this stupid gym."

  I dug my elbow into her ribs and she screamed. "What?"

  A few more guys, not the Adonises, emerged from the changing room, but that didn't stop Jazz from running her mouth. "Okay, sorry for calling you a Jezebel."

  "You called me an experienced Jezebel!" I muttered under my breath.

  A guy whistled. "You sound like just the girl for me."

  His companions bursted into laughter and Jazz laughed along with them. I grabbed the janitorial trolley and huffed off. I was not going to be the butt of Jazz's jibes today. Sometimes her never-made-a-mistake-in-my-life attitude just plain annoyed me. It was on days like these that I wondered why on earth I'd accepted her dare to see how long I could survive working here. I should have just acknowledged that I was as spoiled as she accused me of being, and saved myself this torture.

  I stopped at the end of the hallway. Once this hallway was mopped up, we were free to leave for the day.

  Jazz hopped over and took the mop from me. "I'll do it, I'm quicker." She thrust the mop into the bucket, squeezed out the mop head, then sloshed the water and bleach mixture over the floor. I watched her run the mop up and down the hallway. It took her thirty seconds flat. "There. That'll do," she announced.

  I unlocked the store cupboard for her to push the trolley in, then we started towards the staff room, the humidity of the hallways stifling us as we went. Jazz pushed through a door. I put out a hand and caught it before it whacked me in the face.

  "Coming to Ignite?" she asked.

  Ignite was a Thursday evening campus fellowship. The leader, Russell Lowry, was determined to ignite within us all a passion for God that would explode on campus and cause a revival throughout the hallowed halls of Oxford University. "I guess I am. I totally forgot about it, though. I didn't even pack any clothes."

  Jazz rolled her eyes. "There's no one to impress at Ignite."

  "You must be joking." Maybe Jazz was just blind to the calibre of guys at Ignite, just as she'd been in the men's changing room a few minutes ago. How could a girl even remotely remember what a janitorial trolley was when a buffet of male bodies was before her?

  "Today they're building that fence, remember?" Jazz asked, shooting me an 'I can't believe you want to get dressed up to build a fence' look.

  "Oh, yeah." Russell had suggested that we all let our light shine by volunteering to rebuild the run down fence around one of the campus football fields.

  I stripped off my uniform when we got to the staff room and stepped into the shower. The water was brutally cold, but I needed it because it was really hot and sweaty in the gym today. I threw on the same sweaty uniform after.

  Jazz sighed as I removed my makeup bag from my handbag. "Are you going to put on full makeup to build a fence?"

  "You know I am." Being under the scrutiny of the British pres
s for so long had taught me never to go out without makeup. I slapped it on. "Got any perfume?" I asked Jazz when I was done.

  Jazz opened her locker and removed a bottle of something cheap-looking. It would have to do. I doused myself with the light floral scent while Jazz just gave her dark curls a quick brushing, then grabbed her bag. "Ready?" she asked.

  "Yes." We started making our way out.

  "Working tomorrow, Drew?" Alix Asikis called when we got to the reception. He was the receptionist, which meant that he sat and chatted to customers while the rest of us worked our behinds off.

  "No, I need to finish my thesis, so I'll be off for a while. My deadline is next week Friday."

  "Mine's due in two weeks," Alix said. He smirked, his dark hair flopping over his forehead. "I still find your intelligence quite shocking, you know, Drew."

  I wasn't in the mood for Alix's stupid comments today, and the look on his face told me he was about to make one. "Really?"

  "Yes. You've changed the way I look at pretty women. I used to just see hair and boobs, now I think about their minds, too."

  "You try so hard to annoy me, Alix."

  "What? It's not working?"

  I smiled. "I'm glad I have been instrumental in changing your worldview."

  "Anyway," Alix said grinning. "Congrats."

  "For what?"

  "You've worked here a full month now, and you haven't been as intolerable as we all thought you'd be."

  "Just because she's an ex-snob doesn't mean she can't hold down a job," Jazz said in my defence, although I wasn't sure I liked being described as an ex-snob.

  "Well, I got you a little something," Alix told me.

  Jazz hid a smile and I gave her a warning look. She was convinced that Alix liked me, but I didn't agree with her. I'd met his girlfriend, Candace Siannas. She was a Greek goddess.

  Alix removed a bunch of pretty orange and yellow flowers from under the reception desk. "I know you're probably used to much more expensive things. These only cost a fiver. But it's from the heart."

  I laughed as I cut across the reception to accept the flowers. I gave Alix a quick hug. "Thanks Al, these are really pretty."

  I was vaguely aware of a door opening as I read the humorous message that Alix had written on the card. I stepped aside as someone approached the desk. Alix went into professional mode immediately, in order to attend to them.

  I inhaled the sweet fragrance of my flowers and grinned at Jazz who was looking a little dazed. Was the fact that Alix had given me flowers that flabbergasting? I went to ask her what was wrong, but before I could say anything she grabbed my hand. "Oh my goodness, Drew..."

  "What?" I asked, following her gaze. Her eyes were on the person at the desk. It was the leader of the clan of cuties, fully dressed this time. He glanced our way as if feeling our eyes boring into him, and tossed us a quick smile before turning back to Alix.

  "Is he real?" Jazz whispered. "Or am I imagining him?"

  "Jazz, he was in the changing room before, pretty much in the nude and you didn't notice him then."

  "He was?"

  "Yeah." I headed for the time attendance machine to clockout. Jazz followed. "Anyway, I hope you're praying towards tomorrow night for me," I whispered.

  Tomorrow night, I was going to my ex-boyfriend's sister's engagement party. I really didn't want to see Travis Haywood, again. Not after the humiliating way he dumped me. But I wasn't the kind of girl to run. Wanda had invited me, and I was going, even if it was going to be the most awkward dinner party I ever attended.

  "S-sure," Jazz said, still slightly disoriented. "I'll be praying."

  "You're still coming with me, right?"

  "Yeah. What was the dress code again?"

  "Smart casual—"

  "Drew," Alix called from the reception desk, where he was attending to Mr Handsome. "Over here."

  "Make it quick," I said, walking over. "I have somewhere to be."

  "Where's the nearest cash machine?" Alix asked.

  "There's one outside."

  "It's out of order," Mr Handsome said in an accent that sounded like it had an American lilt to it, but I couldn't be quite sure.

  I looked up into his brown eyes and my head swam. I gave myself a mental shake. This was Jazz's fault for swooning the minute he'd come into reception. I did not swoon—well not openly—no matter how fine a man was.

  "Um, well, I suppose the closest one is, um—" I frowned. Come to think of it, where was the closest cash machine? It was slightly hard to think while this man was looking at me. "Oh! There's one by the student shop."

  Mr Handsome observed me idly. I thought I saw his lips lift slightly in amusement, but I wasn't sure. "That one's out of order, too."

  I tore my eyes away from his lips. He was definitely American. "Is it? Well, there's a Tesco just up the road. They have three cash machines. One of them should definitely be working."

  "What's Tesco? And how do I get there?"

  Didn't they have Tesco in America? "Tesco is like a Wal-Mart—"

  "Just kidding, I know what Tesco is," Mr Handsome cut in, smiling. "I was hoping there'd be another cashpoint somewhere on campus. I'll go to Tesco. Thanks." He looked at the bouquet I was holding then gave me one last smile before he walked out, leaving the crisp tang of his aftershave behind.

  Jazz immediately erupted into laughter. I spun around. "What?"

  "That was hilarious. You trying to be all cool and calm, while he just looked at you like you were some kind of entertainment."

  "At least I wasn't all breathless and swooning!" I retorted.

  "Yes you were," Jazz said, still laughing. "You even tried to get all American, talking about Wal-Mart. Please!"

  Alix started laughing too. I rolled my eyes and walked out into the blazing April heat. I took a deep breath of the fresh air, a welcome relief from the close air in the gym. Jazz burst through the doors after me. I looked around as she continued to laugh and tease me about the Wal-Mart line. Mr Handsome American was nowhere to be seen. That was good. I wouldn't want him thinking we were following him.

  "So what's smart casual supposed to mean?" Jazz asked, when she decided to stop laughing about my exchange with the American guy.

  "It means smart casual."

  "Why can't people make up their mind and have either smart or casual? Why both?"

  "You can wear that black dress you wore to church last Sunday."

  Jazz considered it then nodded. "Okay. I have lectures till five tomorrow, so I'll pick you up around six."

  "Sounds like a plan."

  "Dress up nice," Jazz said sternly. "Don't let him see you and be glad he dumped you."

  "I'll try my best," I replied dryly.

  The sound of music and laughter carried on the light breeze as we neared the university sports complex. Jazz jumped the hockey court fence. I followed suit.

  We entered the football complex. Hoards of students were scattered all around the football fields. The smell of hotdogs and roasted onions tickled my nose, and my stomach growled in response.

  "Wow, there are lots of people here," Jazz said, shielding her eyes with a hand as she looked around.

  I followed her to the hotdog van. She grabbed two paper plates and handed me one. There wasn't much food left. Jazz got the last hotdog, and I got a handful of some greasy chips. Hotdog Man squirted ketchup over them until I had more ketchup than chips.

  Jazz grabbed me a drink and put it in my bag. I didn't have any free hands between Alix's flowers and my plate of chips.

  "Hey, you two," Destiny Marsden said, appearing beside us.

  "Where've you been?" I asked her. "I haven't seen you all week."

  Destiny was still sporting the braids I'd put in her hair last week. They'd been nice when I first did them, but now wisps of her ash blond hair had come loose and the braids were pretty scraggy. She gave me a tired smile. "Been living in the library."

  "Not good." I'd been living with Destiny since moving out of Travis Ha
ywood's three-million-pound apartment in Holland Park, but I may as well be living alone for all I saw of her.

  "I know," Destiny said with a grimace. "But it has to be done. By the way, you smell like you had a fight with a perfume counter and lost."

  "I know. She stinks," Jazz said. "I'm at peace with my sweat, but Drew won't embrace hers."

  "What are you talking about?" Destiny asked, turning her nose up. "You smell like a man, Jazz. I don't know which of you smells worse. I'm trying to eat here." She tossed the last piece of bread and sausage into her mouth and chucked her paper plate into a bin bag. "Shall I show you where the action's at?"

  "Go 'head. The fence is looking good," Jazz said.

  "Yeah." Destiny wiped her mouth with a serviette. "The guys are doing a great job. I wanted to help, but it's not women's work, apparently."

  "Really?" I asked.

  Destiny tossed me a bored look. "Don't start, Drew."

  "I won't. But that is sexist, you know."

  Jazz rolled her eyes. "Personally, I don't mind. It's called man-ual labour for a reason."

  I let it go before my friends accused me of being neurotic, as they always did. I liked to challenge double standards and inequalities. That wasn't neurotic.

  We followed Destiny across the field. There was a huge crowd gathered where the guys were building the fence. When we pushed through to the front, it became clear why. The guys had stripped down to their shorts in the heat, and perspiration glistened on their skin.

  I noticed Kale Marshall among the fence-builders. How could Jazz not think he was a guy worth looking good around? Kale was one of the most notorious guys on campus, and it was easy to see why. Ever since he arrived to do his PhD, girls had been lining up to get a piece of him. I hadn't even known he was a Christian until I started going to Ignite three months ago and saw him there.

  Rap music was blasting from a boom box but didn't quite drown out the sound of hammering or the grunts from the guys as they worked.

  Maybe God had marked today as a day of testing for me, because Kale Marshall in tight black Armani shorts was the last thing I needed after that sweltering scene in the gym. I looked at Kale's shorts again. Shorts or boxers?