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.
I let out a loud chuckle and his cheeks turn bright red.
"I'm sorry. It looked... You looked hot." He bluntly says and I laugh even louder. I go over to him and squeeze myself next to him on the same bed, which is way too small for both of us. He wraps his strong arms around me to prevent me from falling off, and even if it's way too hot to lay so close to each other, it still feels really good.
We spend the rest of the day at the pool, and when it's getting too cold, we go inside to take a shower and get dressed. We walk over the boulevard as the sun is setting, and he slips his hand in mine. Our fingers intertwine and it feels familiar.
We choose one of the many cute looking restaurants and get a table right by the sea. The calming sounds of waves rolling back and forth clear my mind.
We eat and talk, and we laugh like we haven't done in a while, and I think it might be being here, in Barcelona, where we started. I'm starting to feel happy again.
If only I knew it wouldn't have lasted long, I would have held on to it tighter.
We have a massive lie-in the next morning, enjoying the fact that we've got all the time in the world.
Then when we're finally dressed and we've had breakfast, we ask the hotel to get us a taxi, and Harry gives the driver an address.
"So, like I said, I'm taking you on a trip down memory lane today." He smiles.
"That is the worst thing to say in this situation." I laugh at him, trying to make a joke out of it, like we always do. At first I thought it was good that we tried to take the subject lightly. Now I just think we do it because we feel too uncomfortable having a serious talk about it.
"I know, but it also kind of fits, don't you think?"
"Yeah, maybe it does."
We're silent the rest of the drive, and then the taxi stops in what looks like a random street. There's nothing there.
The taxi driver says he'll wait for us and Harry takes my hand in his. We walk through a couple small alleys and then we're suddenly standing in a street that has a couple shops, and people walking around.
Harry points to a clothing store, which looks empty, though the style of the clothing seems quite cool.
"That's the store where we met."
He takes me inside and he shows me the place where we sat for hours, getting to know each other. Then we just stand there, like we're waiting for something. Like we're waiting for my memory to come back, right there and then. Though we both know, in that particular moment, that we're fooling ourselves.
I don't want to give up yet. We came all the way here and now I'm going to let him take me to all these places that once meant so much to me.
We take the taxi to the next place. We could have walked there, but there are too many people in the streets so the chance we'll never get out of there is too big. So we take the taxi, and it stops in another random street.
We get out of the car.
"This is the karaoke bar we came that night, after the show." He points to a small venue. The place looks dead, which it probably is during the day, and it only comes to life at night.
Harry pushes at the door and to our surprise, it opens.
"Hola!" Someone yells from inside the bar. A guy appears and approaches us.
"I'm sorry, we don't open until 9 pm." The guy says with a funny accent, and he smiles at us.
"Oh, we know, I just... I wanted to show this place to my wife." Harry says. The guy frowns, and I don't blame him. What foreigner comes to some karaoke bar in Barcelona to show it to his wife?
"We came here on the night we first met. We sang one of our own songs, right there on the stage." Harry explains. The guy is still frowning, because he doesn't get that Harry's explaining this to me.
"We were laughing our heads off, it was so much fun." Harry smiles, like he's reliving the moment in his head.
"I don't understand any of this." The guy says.
I laugh. "It's okay, it's complicated. Thank you for letting us come in."
We leave the guy behind, who has such deep frowns in his forehead that I'm afraid they'll leave marks on his head.
After the karaoke bar, Harry takes me to the café where we supposedly had drinks after the show, before the karaoke bar. We take the exact same table and he tells me where everyone sat. He tells me what we talked about, how much we laughed and what we drank, and how our hands were touching under the table, when no one could see.
We have the same drinks, we hold hands under the table. Sure, it's fun, but it feels like an act. Like we're enacting someone else's life, when actually, it's mine.
The last place we visit is the hotel where Leah and I stayed. He tells me in detail about how he had insisted to walk us back when the other boys had taken a taxi to their hotel, how we held hands on the way back, and it was so dark that we thought Leah didn't see, but later she told us she'd known all along. Then he tells me how Leah said she really needed a pee and she'd go ahead, and how glad we secretly were that we were alone. Also, Leah told us later that she didn't need a pee at all.
"So this is where we had our first kiss?" I ask him.
"Yeah." He smiles. "It was one of those summer nights, when it was still kind of warm, even though it was very late - almost the morning. And then I asked if you'd mind if I'd keep your number, maybe text you later. You nodded and you bit your lip in this shy way, and then... Then I did this."
He takes my face in his hand, cupping my cheek, his thumb softly stroking my chin. Then he brings his face closer, he closes his eyes right when our noses touch. Then he tilts his head to the side just a little, and he puts his lips on mine.
The kiss only takes a couple seconds, and when he lets go, he smiles so widely, leans in again and gives me a longer kiss, with tongue this time, while his hands run up and down my back.
This is probably exactly how it went that night. And it's not that I don't like it - something in my stomach is fluttering like crazy - but no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to lose that feeling that I'm pretending.
AN: kinda sad right?
I've finished writing this story now and I can tell you that there are about ten more chapters left, maybe a little less. There will be loads of drama *evil smirk*
Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know :)
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