Dream Catcher (amnesia) - h.s.

31: A trip down memory lane

We're on a plane, almost ready for take-off, and I'm scared once again. My fingers fiddle with the small necklace Harry got me for Christmas, something that has become a nervous habit. Then my hand drifts to the place where my shirt covers my tattoo. The dream catcher. It's my protection.

Harry holds my hand during take-off, and I squeeze him so hard he fakes a pained look, and I laugh.
We've been acting normal, things have actually been good between us. I know I'll ruin it if I ever tell him what I did, so every day I'm more sure I'll never tell him. That probably makes me a bad person. Though it feels like the right thing to do.

The flight only takes three hours, and it's over before I know it. I've distracted myself by listening to my favourite songs. Whenever I get too scared, I tell Harry and he starts rambling about the most random subjects, taking my mind off the fact that we're on a plane.

When we land, someone picks up our luggage for us so we don't have to go into the airport. Fans have already figured out we're in Barcelona - God knows how they always do that - so we take a couple pictures with people waiting outside the airport until the security guards take us to our car.

We drive to the big resort where we've booked a room with our own small private pool.

We walk around the resort in search for our room and gasp at the several pools and restaurants, the spa, and all the gorgeous little houses that function as hotel rooms.

Our room is the nicest hotel room I've ever seen. It has a king size soft looking bed, a bathroom that is decorated so beautifully that it's almost a shame that it's only the bathroom, and a small pool with a terrace that looks very appealing.

"Well, I really don't mind this." I joke, and Harry laughs. "It's amazing."

We unpack our stuff and change into our swimming suits.

I place my towel on one of the beds, and I put a lot of sunscreen on, since my pale skin gets sunburnt very easily.

Then I dip my toes into the pool water. Harry is just coming out of the room in his swimming trunks and I'm once again mesmerized by how good his body looks. I try not to stare, but he's staring too, so I guess it's fine.

"What are you looking at?" I tease him.

"I could ask you the same thing." He smirks.

"True." I nod. He chuckles and joins me on the first step of the stairs that lead into the pool.

"Go in together?" He suggests.

"It's too cold..." I whine.

"No, it's not. Take my hand and we'll go in together."

He offers me his hand and pulls me one step lower, then again and again, until the water reaches my stomach and I wince from the cold. He laughs when he sees it.

"Come on, it's not that cold."

Then he tugs my hand hard enough so that I fall off the last step and into the water.

At first, I'm squealing from the cold water, but then my body gets used to the temperature and it gets better.

"Oh, this I actually quite nice." I admit, and Harry lets out a laugh. 'Told you so."

I lay in the pool for quite a while, leaning on the side, slowly kicking the water with my legs. Harry's already on one of the beds drying up and sunbathing, but I enjoy the feeling of water surrounding my body and it helps me clear my mind.

After a while I decide to get out, so I take the little stairs that go out of the pool.

My hair's up in a messy bun so it stays dry, and water is dripping from my body as I slightly and subtly squeeze out my bikini top that has soaked up a lot of water. I pick up a towel to wrap around my shivering body, and then I catch him staring at me.