a/n: pls i do not speak italian so if any of the stuff i've translate is grossly incorrect, lemme know <3 ily
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Chapter 40
Waking up on a plane was always disorienting.
Waking up on a jet nonetheless could really throw a person for a loop. Waking up on said jet beside someone familiar but in a that position neither of you were quite used to was just about the most mind-dizzying thing possible.
That was how I woke up. A little out of it, not entirely sure when I'd even fallen asleep, with my head on Harry's shoulder.
My first reaction was to pull away and act like it hadn't even happened – to hope that maybe he hadn't even noticed. That was of course until I realized that I was trapped beneath his head, which had dropped down to rest atop my own, his soft, brown curls brushing against my forehead.
Harry's breathing was even, calm. Every once and a while his body would tense and his rhythmic inhales would stutter for a beat with an extra agitated breath, only to relax a moment later when his pinky closed tighter around mine. Neither of our fingers seemed to have disconnected the entirety of the flight.
It was... weirdly serene. Knowing that he was resting. That he was actually getting the sleep I was certain he had missed out on the last couple of days. I had no idea what time it was or how long we'd been flying for, but as I quietly focused on the gentle rise and fall of his chest paired with the warmth of his head against mine, it happened to be the last thing on my mind.
From what the small crack in the blinds revealed, it was light outside. We'd probably been flying for at least a few hours now, meaning it had to be well into the afternoon, but given Harry's aversion to planes and his relentless disinclination to sleeping the night through, I wasn't about to wake him up. In fact, I decided to let my own eyes fall back shut, figuring I could do with a little more rest if he meant he got some as well.
Though my plans were quickly thwarted when moments later, the door on the divider separating Harry and I from the passengers in the rest of the cabin, swung open to reveal a cheery-looking Morgan sauntering her way toward us.
The noise must have awoken Harry because he jerked upwards, inhaling a long breath through his nose. He ran the heel of his palm over his eyes, glancing once around the area surrounding him while his free hand shot instinctively to the waistband of his pants, hovering over the gun I knew was tucked away there, before falling back to rest on his thigh when he realized who it was that had come in.
"It's dark in here," Morgan commented with furrowed brows before either of us could speak, plopping down in the seat across from us.
She reached forward to draw the blinds up, but I caught her wrist with a quick shake of my head. "Don't," I said quickly, feeling Harry tense beside me. "I'm... um... scared of heights. I don't like looking outside."
Morgan gave me a weird look but reluctantly dropped her hand into her lap. "Okay..." She glanced between the two of us. "Sleep alright, you two?"
"What's up, Morgan?" Harry rasped, sounding slightly annoyed.
His voice was hoarse, a little scratchy from the past few hours of disuse. Something about it wracked a shiver through me. Harry shifted in his seat, stretching his legs out in front of him with a small groan. His hand had dropped back down to rest beside mine, his pinky idly stroking mine while keeping his attention focused ahead.
"We're landing in about 10," Morgan lifted a foot to rest on Harry's knee, but he shoved it off. She laughed, rolling her eyes. "Just thought I'd be so kind as to let you know considering you were back here dozing while the rest of us were–"
"That's enough," Harry grumbled. He still looked like he was in the process of waking himself up, not entirely ready to deal with her incessant chatter right away. "You can go."
"Flying makes you cranky," Morgan teased, scrunching up her nose. She threw a wink in my direction.
"He's always cranky," I said with a small laugh, lifting my arms above my head to stretch.
Harry just shook his head, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees, before repeating a little more insistently, "Goodbye, Morgan."
Morgan held up her hands in feigned surrender. "Fine, fine. I'm going, Mr. Pissy." She rose from her seat, walking over to the divider door, which was still slightly ajar, before calling over her shoulder at us, "I'll come back in a bit with your room keys."
All she got in response from Harry was a curt nod before she fled, letting the door fall shut behind her, once again secluding Harry and I from everyone else. The silence was a lot more palpable than it had been when he was still asleep.
"So..." I said quietly, running my hands over my pant legs. "Whereabouts in Italy are we landing, Mr. Pissy?"
Harry turned his head, giving me a flat look. His eyes roamed me once over before he muttered, "Taormina." The word rang about no bells in my head. Clearly sensing this, he clarified a beat later, "It's a town on the east coast of Sicily, near the Mediterranean Sea. I... are you actually scared of heights?"
I shook my head, wincing slightly. "No. I said that because you–"
"Right," Harry interrupted, clearing his throat. "Uh... Thank you."
"Why?" I asked, not wanting to dwell on the subject any further nor on the fact that Harry had willingly thanked me for something. I had a feeling maybe the cabin pressure had something to do with it. "Is the hotel really high up or something?" I joked.
Harry ran his tongue along his inner cheek, huffing a small chuckle. "The town itself is on a hill. The hotel rooms normally have a view of the city." He leaned back in his seat, bracing a hand behind his head. "Would probably be a bit scary if you didn't like heights."
"Normally?" I inquired further, not wanting to push my luck but hoping to get as many answers from him as I could while he seemed to be in a little high of spirits. "Do you do a lot of jobs here?"
"Used to," Harry shrugged. "Back when I was working under Damien. Now I mainly just do in-house deals." Before I had a chance to jump in, he added, "Means in country. We don't work internationally as much."
"Ah," I clicked my tongue, glancing at the window – at the array of colours that flashed through the small opening beneath the blinds. Something I'd probably find myself wanting to paint if I were able to see. "Is it a pretty place?"
When I looked back at Harry, his focus was on me. His face scrunched, a crease between his brows forming. "Depends on what you constitute as pretty."
You.
The word almost slipped from my tongue. Had me struggling to reroute my mind, to quickly jump on another train of thought that wasn't currently focusing on the flush of his cheeks or how good he looked in a state of disarray after having slept on a plane for a few hours – something that I envied him for.
But it was true. He was pretty. So much so that I always found myself getting a bit dazed, feeling a little at a loss for words whenever he came bounding into my apartment unannounced or started running his mouth with another reason why he was mad at me. It was infuriating that I always wanted to be pissed right back but was constantly getting distracted.
"River?" Harry seemed amused when I focused back in on his expression. The ghost of a smirk curled onto his lips. "Done?"
I cleared my throat, blinking a few times to compose myself and pluck my brain of any remaining thoughts to do with his appearance. "Done what?"
He cocked his head to the side. "Staring?"
Feeling a flush creep onto my cheeks, I quickly turned away to face the seats in front of us. "I was not staring–"
Harry's fingers found my jaw moments later, gently pulling me back in his direction. Only he was inches away now when I turned toward him. "'S fine," he shrugged mockingly, chewing on his inner cheek in amusement. "You can stare."
I pulled out of his hold, crossing my arms over my chest. "Bold of you to assume I won't throw those blinds open," I muttered under my breath. Harry let out a breathy laugh, opening his mouth to retort with something, only to be cut short when the jet suddenly jerked beneath us.
His hand shot out to the armrest, his breath stuttering for a beat before catching altogether in his throat.
"It's just the plane landing," I assured him quietly, making extra sure to steel my tone so as not to come off like I was talking down to him. "It's okay. This always happens." When Harry didn't immediately respond, I hopped into the seat in front of him.
"Riv," Harry reprimanded sharply, his knuckles whitening. "Stop it. Don't move when the fuckin' plane is bouncing around." He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth when the aircraft suddenly lurched forward again.
"Or what?" I teased, leaning forward until our knees brushed against one another. "You'll shoot me?"
Harry's nostrils flared. He looked me a few times over before swallowing hard and muttering, "If this bloody thing doesn't kill me, I know for a fact you sure as hell will."
"To die by the hand of River Madden," I said with a grin, lifting my legs to rest over in his lap. Harry glanced down at them but said nothing. My hands reached up to tuck behind my head. "It would be an honourable way for you to go, that's for sure."
"Careful," Harry warned, his demeanour slackening a bit, much to my relief. It seemed my attempts to distract him were working. He was looking at me carefully as he went on, "I could drop you somewhere in this Italian city and let you figure out your own way back."
"Mm, but you wouldn't," I responded, angling my head to the side. "You'd miss me too much." Harry only rolled his eyes, to which I added, "Plus you wouldn't wanna look after Meatloaf for the rest of your life." I flashed him a haughty grin. "I've put you down on my will as the one who gets custody if I die."
Harry's expression shifted into annoyance. "I don't want your stupid fucking cat–"
The door behind us swung open, effectively cutting off the rest of his distasteful words about hating my lovely Sphynx. Craning my neck and dropping my hands into my lap, I glanced over to see Morgan and Zayn making their way toward us. Neither of the other boys, it seemed, had been so inclined as to follow.
When I looked back over at Harry, he'd gone rigid again, assessing the two of them. "You really shouldn't be walking around when we're landing," he muttered through gritted teeth. His free hand, the one that wasn't currently braced on the armrest, was rested beside my ankle. His thumb had begun absentmindedly toying with the hem of my jeans.
"What's the worst that could happen?" Zayn teased, throwing a grin in my direction as he took a seat on the other side of the aisle. Morgan dropped into his lap moments later, looping her arms around his neck, just as he answered, "The plane could crash or something?"
"Z," Morgan hissed, whirling to look at him. "Shut up." She lowered her voice. "I think River is scared of flying."
The notion made me snort and I had to lean into my palm to keep from making a noise. Harry's hand closed around my ankle. He squeezed once in warning as if pleading with me not to say anything. Upon meeting his heated gaze, I just rolled my eyes.
God forbid something fucking humanizes the man.
I tried to ignore the way Harry's thumb had now dipped underneath my jeans and was rubbing small circles against my skin, like he was rewarding me for keeping quiet. His touch left a heated path in its wake, something that was both unnerving and soothing all at once. Attempting to focus on anything else, I directed my attention back to Morgan and Zayn, the two of which seemed to be engaged in their own conversation that I'd tuned out of.
"I thought you said you were coming back with the hotel keys?" Harry asked flatly, interrupting them both.
I glanced between him and Morgan, furrowing my brows. "Wait, don't we have to go to the hotel to get those?"
"We're landing at the hotel. There's a pad in the back," Morgan clarified, leaning to rest her head on Zayn's shoulder. Her eyes were still on me as she went on, "Normally the flight crew unloads our stuff, checks us in and brings the keys directly onto the jet so that we can just go straight to our rooms or out if we have other stuff to do."
I blew out a sharp breath. "Wow, the royal treatment."
"We pay quite a bit to stay here," Zayn answered. His hand was running up and down Morgan's leg. "And a lot of it banks on our identities flying under the radar. The 'royal treatment'–" he laughed, "–helps us to remain that way."
"Right, okay," I nodded. "So then what will we be doing right when we get there considering the drop isn't until tomorrow? What time is it even in Italy?"
I could feel Harry's eyes on me, but Morgan was the one to answer. "It's around 4:30 in the afternoon." Her eyes lit up and the corners of her lips twitched into a grin. "I was thinking maybe we could do some sight-seeing, go for dinner somewhere–"
"No." Harry's response was immediate.
I whirled around to look at him, a frown forming on my face. "Why not?"
Harry narrowed his eyes at me. "Because."
"This isn't a good enough reason," I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "We're going to be in Italy."
I went to go drop my legs from his lap in frustration, but Harry tightened his hold around my ankle, keeping one of them restrained against his knee. "I said no." He repeated, leaning forward to look at me. "I have to go over a few things when we get there, plus I gotta find out where exactly you're going tomorrow and still need to work out–"
"Okay, that sounds like a lot of you stuff, Styles," Morgan cut in. "I don't see how any of this has to do with River and I going out for a bit."
"It has to do with me–" Harry muttered through gritted teeth only to be stopped short when the jet suddenly careened forward for a final time, with more force than it had these past couple of minutes, landing hard on the ground with a loud squeal. He blew out a small sigh of relief, shaking his head once to compose himself, before continuing, "It has to do with me because I can't be around to fucking watch her."
"You don't need to watch me," I shot back at the very same moment that Morgan replied, "You don't need to watch her."
Harry leaned back, setting his mouth into a flat line. Before he could speak, Morgan went on, "I'm gonna be there, Harry. With her." She jerked a chin at the boy whose lap she was currently nestled in. "And probably Zayn if he decides to come. We'll be fine."
"That isn't what I'm worried about," Harry ground out quickly. "I'm just – she can't tire herself out before tomorrow. Or god forbid show up with a fucking hangover."
"Um, I'm right here," I cut in with a small scoff, trying again to pull my feet away from Harry's lap in annoyance, only for him to once again tighten his hold. "I think I know well enough what I can take and when not to overdo it."
"Do you?" Harry shot back, turning to look at me. His expression had shifted into one of irritation as if remembering all of the times I hadn't exactly made the best choices to do with this little lifestyle of theirs. From beside me, I could hear Morgan shift a bit in embarrassment as well.
He stared at me for a long moment, willing me to speak – to say something so that he could blow his top. So that he could yell and let out what he'd been wanting to spew since the moment Morgan had brought this up, but he'd so far been able to keep on a tight leash.
What he probably least expected was for me to just blow out an exasperated breath, falling back against the seat to mutter, "Fine."
He raised a brow. "Fine?"
"Fine." I repeated through clenched teeth. He was still staring at me when I went on, "This is a job, after all. Not a holiday. If I want to explore Italy, I'll come back another time when it doesn't have to do with illegal drug trafficking."
A lie. There was no way I'd ever be able to afford a trip like this in my entire lifetime. But I had to respect the fact that I'd fucked with Harry and his job enough. That I was quite literally only here because I'd been too stubborn to back off and gotten myself caught up in something that I should never have been associated with in the first place.
That, and I just seemed to keep fucking screwing up. Maybe staying locked in a hotel room for the entire weekend wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing for me. It might actually do everyone else some good.
"No!" Morgan cried out, slightly teasingly, probably knowing she'd already lost the battle. "Don't give up, River! Stick it to the man!"
I glanced over, watching Zayn roll his eyes and lean in to whisper something against her neck. Morgan let out a breathy laugh before pushing herself closer, murmuring something back in his ear until the two of them were laughing, the sound carrying through the whole closed-off portion of the cabin.
Harry gave my ankle a squeeze in an attempt to pull my attention back to him. "What?" I snapped, a little harsher than intended, turning in his direction. Softening my tone a fraction, I muttered, "I said I would drop it."
"Good girl," he cooed, angling his head to the side.
Before I was able to respond, the divider door was being swung open again. This time, the two men in black suits from a few hours earlier who had been helping Harry and Zayn to load the luggage onto the jet stepped hesitantly inside. What I didn't expect upon their entrance was for Harry to pull out his gun, letting it rest casually in his lap.
He flitted his eyes to mine when he noticed me glance down at it. This time he let me pull my legs down.
"Yeah?" Zayn asked, pulling away from Morgan long enough to address them.
The first man cleared his throat, digging a hand into his pocket. "Your rooms are ready, Sir." He extended a set of keys into the aisle, obviously waiting for someone to grab them. When Harry reached forward, the man went on, "All of your stuff has been unloaded and brought up. The rest of the men are already in the hotel."
The two-suited guys seemed extremely nervous – almost on edge. It made me feel a bit uneasy myself. By 'the rest of the men', I assumed they meant Niall, Louis and Liam, something I was grateful for, considering I didn't really have the energy to face them either after this long plane ride. The most I could hope for was a room to myself with at least a semi-decent view if I wasn't going to be allowed to see the city.
"You can go." Was all Harry offered in response. No thank you, no courteous tone, not even a tip. No wonder these men seemed so unsettled in their presence. They nodded, fleeing without another word.
Morgan and Zayn were already in the process of getting ready to leave, were halfway through the door themselves, when I whispered to Harry, "Was the gun really necessary?"
He made no attempt to tuck it back into the waistband of his pants. In fact, it was hanging casually at his side as he stood up, obviously waiting for me to do the same, while he responded, "You can never be too careful."
"You scared them half to death," I muttered, putting a few feet of distance between us.
Harry glanced down at me but didn't immediately respond. Instead, he gestured with his head for me to step forward toward the door, him following hot on my heels while I made my way down the aisle.
"Fear drives people," he replied coolly after a few minutes.
I had to look over my shoulder at him. His smug expression didn't so quickly pass me by. "Fear causes people to act irrationally," I muttered in response, turning away again and beginning my descent down the jet steps. "Remember that."
Whatever Harry might have said in response was lost to me. And not because I had no interest in hearing what he was going to say but because what I stepped outside the aircraft to was enough to wholly steal my attention away, preventing me from focusing on anything other than the view before me.
Of Italy.
Or rather, of the Sicilian Coast.
Harry hadn't been wrong when he said the city was mounted on a hill. It seemed that the jet had landed at the very top, that the hotel was located on the very cusp of everything – with almost every part of Taormina visible in the trails surrounding us, descending toward the beautifully archaic scenery, buildings and the neighbouring Mediterranean Sea that just about took my breath away. It was like a painting. Something I could have only ever dreamed to paint in real life.
And I couldn't believe that I was standing here. Me. River. Whether it had to do with an illegal job that I had gotten myself involved with or not, it was still so surreal.
I hadn't even realized that Harry had materialized at my side until he softly spoke, "It is kinda nice, huh?"
"It's incredible," I breathed.
"Signorina Williams?" A voice on the other side of me spoke. I ignored them until Harry reached down, pinching my wrist. "Er, Miss Williams?" The voice spoke again. I whirled around, realizing at the last second that they were speaking to me. Ava Williams.
"Hi," I said quickly. "Sorry. Yes. Hello. That's me."
It was a man dressed in a white suit holding a silver platter. He extended it in my direction, seeming to trip over his words for a beat, before stammering, "Vorresti un–" he held out a flute filled with orange liquid, "–drink?"
"Um–" I reached for it at the very same moment as Harry, who snatched the glass out of the man's hand. He tipped it back, while I watched appalled, drinking the whole thing in one go. "Dude!" I cried out.
Harry placed the empty flute back on the tray, muttering a quick, "Grazie," before grabbing the other and turning to me. "Had to check if it was poisoned."
My eyes widened and I was sure I went white as a ghost. "Wait, really? Would people be trying to poison you even here? Oh God–"
The grin that spread over Harry's face cut me off abruptly. "I'm fucking with you," he said, putting the flute in my hand. "I just wanted to steal your drink." Before I had a chance to respond, he turned back toward the man and said, "Vai a prendere qualcosa da mangiare alla bella ragazza, okay? E fai in fretta."
I was still ogling at his ability to speak such fluent Italian that I didn't even notice the man scurry off. Nor did I entirely realize I was staring until Harry caught my chin again with his fingers, a small, amused grin creeping onto his face as I managed to stammer, "I wasn't – I was just... I forgot you spoke Italian."
Harry angled his head to the side, his grin widening. "Yeah? You like it?"
"Where are we staying?" I pulled out of his grip, using all of my strength to break free of his vortex. This man had a pull stronger than the fucking moon. I focused my attention back on the view. "I could use a shower."
Another lie. The last thing I wanted to do was hang around in a hotel room showering and sulking. I would rather be out exploring, looking at the city, but I knew Harry wouldn't let me. So, I figured the faster I could get somewhere by myself to just wallow, without the dizzying proximity of him, the better.
"Drink that." Harry jerked his chin toward the flute of orange liquid still in my hand. "You haven't had anything since this morning."
"What is it?" I asked, holding it up.
"A mimosa."
"Right," I muttered with a small laugh. "The royal treatment for sure." Without another word, I tipped the glass back and let it all fall to the back of my throat – the familiar taste of orange juice and liquor coating my tongue. Water would have been better, but when have I ever been one to pass up alcohol?
As if in answer to my question, the moment I brought the flute back down, Harry said, "I'm getting food brought up for you too." He gestured for me to follow him as he began to walk around the jet. Until the two of us were in front of a set of doors, which he held open for me silently urging me to step inside.
"It's called the Grand Hotel Timeo," Harry murmured against the shell of my ear. He'd leaned down to talk to me, obviously realizing he wouldn't be able to catch my attention himself – considering it was once again focused on yet another piece of beauty that this country had to offer, this time in the form of the hotel we were currently stood in.
We were on some sort of terrace, it seemed. Complete with an arched stone railing, aged rattan furniture, beautiful assortments of plants and flowers hung around the walls and tables, all atop orange, marble flooring that stretched at least a few hundred feet around the entire building. I took a few steps forward, marvelling at everything. Every part of it seemed like something out of a renaissance painting.
But the view. Nothing was comparable to the view of the sea, of the city beneath us, that went on for miles in smatterings of greens, blues, hues of yellow and red. It was surreal. It was like I'd stepped right out of a dream. When I looked back at Harry, his expression was unreadable, though his eyes were sparkling akin to the colour of land spread out against the edge of the water.
"This is where we're staying?" I asked, a little awe-struck.
"Whole place is rented out," was Harry's response. "And we have security manning every entrance."
I guessed that was his way of saying yes. My fingers closed around the stone of the railing, revelling in the soft breeze that skittered over my shoulder, pulling with it a few strands of my hair. With a deep inhale, I let my eyes flutter shut.
The sound of feet scuffing against the floor let me know that Harry had moved closer. His voice confirmed it, sounding less than a foot away, when he said, "I've got to go out and take care of some stuff. You have to stay here, okay?"
My eyes were still shut as I nodded.
"Seriously," Harry's hand closed around my elbow. "River. Look at me."
Reluctantly, I opened my eyes back up, leaning against the railing to stare at him. It was hard to stay annoyed when the setting sun bounced off his skin, making him look like he was glowing. This fucking place.
"Tell me you understand." He repeated with a little more urgency. His jaw was clenched. "I'm not fucking around."
I rolled my eyes. "I understand. I'll stay here."
While an hour ago, I might have finished my sentence off joking about staying here locked in a tower like Rapunzel, I didn't exactly feel like that was the case anymore. Not given the place that I now knew I'd be staying in. It wasn't so much of a prison sentence as it was a reprieve. Even lounging around this terrace would be enough for me, the sudden thought of roaming the city long forgotten... for now.
"Don't leave the room." He ground out, dropping my arm. "There are two bedrooms in this suite. Pick the one you want; I'll take the other. Have a nap. Sleep off your jet lag–"
"Are you going to sleep off your jet leg?" I countered, crossing my arms over my chest. "And wait, aren't I supposed to force myself to stay up? And go to sleep at regular Italian time? Isn't that what getting rid of jet lag is?"
Harry blew out an exasperated breath. "Just – I won't be back for a few hours. You need to make sure you get enough rest for tomorrow, okay? Your food should be coming by soon. Make sure you eat too."
I wanted to shoot back something about how I knew for a fact that he hadn't eaten this entire day either, but held my tongue, internally resolving to sit with the conclusion that maybe he was going to eat while he was out. Maybe he was meeting his scary drug associates for dinner or something.
"Where are Morgan and Zayn staying?" I asked instead. "And everyone else?"
"Niall, Louis and Liam are on the first floor," Harry answered, running his hand over the length of his jaw. "Morgan and Zayn are the floor below us." He stepped closer, narrowing his eyes. "Don't go out with them, okay?"
For a split second, I just stared at him. Wondered how far I could push him until I caught sight of the urgency in his eyes. "Fine." I muttered. "I already told you I wouldn't."
I lowered my gaze, averting it out toward the sea, already fed up with this conversation and wishing he would just leave at this point. Harry's arm shot out to my neck, the warmth of his palm covering my exposed skin. He used his thumb to tip my head up until I was staring at him again. "Promise?" He asked.
"Yes," I responded a little sharply. "I promise. Christ, put an ankle bracelet on me or something. You really don't trust me?"
Harry flashed me a small grin. "Not in the slightest."
With a huff, I pulled away from his hold, crossing my arms over the railing. I could feel him hovering at my side for a few more seconds before his feet scuffed once more along the floor, retreating.
"I'll be back." He called from somewhere far behind me. I didn't look over my shoulder at him. "Eat, River."
The sound of a door closing had my shoulders sagging. I dropped my face into my palms with an exaggerated groan, biting back a comment to the open air about how I was surprised I didn't hear a number of locks being closed in Harry's wake. The breeze carried on around me – warm, gentle – completely unaware of the girl having an internal crisis on the terrace at the top of the hill.
Once I felt I had wallowed for a good amount of time, I pulled myself away from the terrace, making my way toward the interior of the hotel on heavy feet. Much like its outside counterpart, the inside was all elegance and luxury. Plush silken seats and bedding adorned every open corner, the bathroom a mix of white marble and gold accents. Both mine and Harry's luggage had been placed neatly onto a set of racks by the door, waiting to be opened and put away.
I stared at the shower for a long few minutes, willing myself to strip down and step inside only to somehow end up curled beneath a heavy comforter in one of the bedrooms instead, neglecting my plans to clean up and rather deciding to have a rest. To sleep in place of the exploration I'd hoped to do in an attempt to convince myself that it would help to settle my mind, to get me to forget about tomorrow.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.
Even squeezing my eyes shut did nothing to help me to relax at all and I found myself hopping out of bed, padding over to pull the long, velvet blinds on the windows shut, relishing in the darkness that swept through the room. Hoping that it would calm my nerves. That I could pretend for a moment that I was just in Italy to visit. To see the countryside. For no other reason than to just be a tourist.
At some point or another, it must have worked. My tossing and turning must have subsided long enough for my brain to believe for just a brief moment that what I was telling it was in fact the truth. That everything about tomorrow, about Damien, about the drop was nothing more than a figment of my imagination.
I fell asleep dreaming about the sea and a set of sparkling green eyes.