The morning came around, bringing glossy beads of sunlight through cracks of the blinds and a warmth that could only be created when your body was pressed against someone else's.
I turned around, seeing a sleeping Zahara, so peaceful. I couldn't help but brush a stray piece of black hair from her pretty face.
Last night had been many things. The party was okay to begin with, but then, obviously, it took a turn for the worse. I truly despised this Daniel guy, and I wanted nothing more than to kill him.
After a loud sigh, I noticed that Zahara was stirring, and eventually, her soft eyes blinked open.
"Morning, sleepyhead." I say, my morning voice thick and croaky.
"Mm, morning," she hums, taking a big stretch. "What time is it?" she asks.
"Uh, 8am." I say, checking the little alarm clock on my side of the bed.
"Oh shit," she says, jolting up in the bed. "I have a brunch- dad has a brunch, at 9am! Oh god, I bet I've missed so many calls from them!" she panics, jumping out of the bed. She quickly retrieved my t-shirt from the floor and pulled it over her naked body.
"What brunch?" I ask, sitting up now myself.
"Just his morning-after brunch. It's just downstairs-"
"Hey, where was my invite?" I pout.
"Harry," she sighs, turning around to face me. "I don't need you around Daniel, okay?" she says. I frown.
"I don't want you around him, alone. Not after last night-"
"Harry, he's a part of my family now. I have to be around him sometimes. Besides, we won't be alone. Salma will be there, so will my parents." she sighs.
"Won't they think it's odd if I don't come?" I ask, standing from the bed. I pulled some pants on.
"Look, I didn't invite you because they'll interrogate you. They'll have the chance and they'll take advantage of that. You're not even my real boyfriend, it's just not fair on you-" she rambles.
Somewhere during her ramble, I had taking some steps towards her, and now, my hands were cupping her face as she looked up at me with a stressed out look.
"I'm coming. I don't care about a little interrogation." I say. I kiss her forehead and allow my hands to drop. "Coming to shower?"
"Harry, you really don't need to go-"
"I'm gonna go get ready now." I say, walking away from her. "My offer for the shower still stands,"
I made my way into the bathroom, and Zahara had followed. We brushed our teeth with the fresh toothbrushes the hotel supplied, and then I turned on the warm water in the oversized shower.
We removed the minor clothing we had put on just moments before, and stepped into the shower together.
It started out so simple; washing one another, innocently. But then it turned into skin in mouth, lips on neck, and hand against wall as I pushed myself in and out of her, her moans filling the echoey room.
Once that was finished, we finished washing off, and climbed out from the shower. We dried off, and made our way back to her room.
"I'm gonna wear what I wore last night, I didn't bring anything else," I say.
"Just undo a few more buttons. It'll look more casual," Zahara says.
"Not a bad idea," I wink.
Zahara pulled on the same jeans she had worn last night, except this time, instead of the silk cami, she wore an oversized red hoodie and some white chunky trainers, as opposed to heels.
"Time?" I ask.
"8:38am." she says.
"Shall we get a move on?" I ask.
"Okay," she smiles.
After pulling on my shoes, we made our way down to the lobby, for the first time since last night.
In the lobby, her mother stood texting someone.
"Mum, hi." Zahara says, approaching the greying, but glamorous, lady.
"Oh my goodness, Zahara! Where did you go? You didn't say goodnight to anybody! You just left!" Claire gushes, dramatically holding Zahara's face in her hands and checking to see if anything was wrong.
"I'm fine, mum." she groans.
"Oh! Harry! Good morning!" Claire smiles, releasing Zahara's face.
"Morning, Claire." I smile.
"So that's why you left! Honeymoon stages are quite something, aren't they?" Claire hums, her voice fast and enthusiastic. "I bet you just can't keep your hands off of your boxer, Zahara!" she jokes, laughing afterwards. Zahara groaned loudly, whilst I bit back my own laughter.
"Mum, is that really a very appropriate thing to say?" Zahara says through gritted teeth. I laugh.
"Oh, nonsense. Any-who, your father is in the restaurant already, with Salma and Daniel! I was waiting here for you, Zahara. What a treat it is to have Harry join us!" Jesus, this lady was more hyper and intense than I'd realised initially.
"How was the remainder of the party? So sorry that we missed it," I say, as we walked towards the restaurant inside of the hotel.
"Oh, Harry! It was wonderful, really. Omar was so pleased about the turnout! And his friends even sang a song for him," she gushes.
"They sang?" Zahara scoffs. "What did they sing?"
"I have no clue, it was so awful. But, what a great time it was!" Claire giggles. I chuckled lightly to myself. Her behaviour wasn't at all dissimilar to Zahara's, which was quite sweet.
We approached the restaurant, which was quiet except for Zahara's family. Her dad looked tired, as did Salma. Daniel just looked like a target for me to beat the shit out of.
"They're here!" Claire announces, a wide smile on her features.
"Morning," Salma smiles sleepily.
"Hey," Zahara sighs, taking a seat. I sat down beside her. Daniel and Salma were opposite on the circular table, whilst her parents were beside Zahara.
"Last night you left. Why?" Omar says sternly, eyeing both Zahara and I.
"Honeymoon phase, darling. They can't keep their hands off of one another!" Claire says enthusiastically. I felt my cheeks blush, but noticed Daniel visibly stiffen.
"Well, it won't last." Daniel says, taking a swig from his drink.
"Whiskey? At 9am?" I say, simply trying to sound observant, and not judgemental. Zahara squeezes my thigh with her small hand.
"Hair of the dog, Harley." Daniel says, holding his glass up. Salma shakes her head a little, looking down in her lap.
"It's Harry," Zahara sighs, rolling her eyes.
"Easy mistake, Zee. Don't start," Salma tuts.
"Now! What's everybody ordering?" Claire says in a high-pitched voice, an attempt to lighten the tension that had suddenly built.
"The florentine, I think." Salma hums, eyes scanning the menu in front of her.
"I'll get the same," Daniel says, closing his menu.
"Butter toast." Omar says, his voice always so thick and angry.
"Just buttered toast?" Claire asks him softly.
"I am the hungover. I not need too much," he says, sounding tired and grumpy.
"Okay, darling." Claire smiles. "I think I'll have the fruit parfait! Zahara, sweetie, what might you want?"
"Not very hungry," she mumbles.
"I see," Claire nods. "Harry?"
"Uh, I'm actually okay, thanks," I say, trying to sound as polite as I could.
"Oh! I would've thought a man as muscular as you would have to eat plenty!" she chuckles.
"You don't become a double World Champion from not eating," Zahara says, looking at me.
"I'm just not hungry. I'm a little hungover," I say.
"He isn't so muscular that he looks as though he requires much food," Daniel says, matter-of-factly. Now, I wouldn't have minded his comment so much, if he wasn't so out of shape.
"I wouldn't say that," Claire says. "He's triple the size of you, Daniel!" she chuckles. Daniel gave me a death-glare.
"Let me guess; 3,000 calories to run you?" Salma says, smiling softly.
"Try 4,000," I chuckle.
"4,000?!" Salma gasps. "Zahara, he eats four times the amount of you," she jokes. Zahara sighs and rolls her eyes from beside me. I squeeze her thigh this time.
"I'm actually feeling a little sick," Zahara says, looking at me with pleading eyes.
"Oh? Hungover?" Claire asks.
"Most likely," Zahara sighs.
"You leave now?" Omar says, voice gravelly.
"No, Omar, she isn't-" Claire begins.
"If you're offering, papa." Zahara says, giving her father puppy eyes.
"She look ill. Must rest more, Zahara. Boyfriend, you take care of Zahara. She must rest," Omar says, shaking his head. "I need smoke,"
"Oh, okay." Claire nods, seeming disappointed by what was occurring.
"Harry?" Zahara says to me, nodding her head towards the door. I nod my head.
"Uh, thanks for the concept of breakfast. I've got some hair to hold back," I joke, though I knew Zahara didn't actually feel sick. Not really.
"Ha! Such a gentleman," Claire gushes.
"Hardly," Daniel mumbles.
A few 'goodbyes' were exchanged, and with that, Zahara and I left the hall, my hand on the small of her back.
Once we got into the foyer, Zahara continued ahead of me until we were outside, in the fresh, crisp morning air.
"You okay?" I ask quietly. Her eyes were glued to the road ahead of us.
"Just needed some fresh air." she says.
Zahara pulled a pack of cigarettes out from her pockets, followed by a lighter, and began to smoke. A moan of relief sounded from her as she took her first drag.
"They stress me out," she mumbles, shaking her head and smoking more. She had her arms wrapped around her body to the best of her ability.
"I know," I nod.
"And you stress me out," she says.
"What? Why?" I ask, feeling slightly offended.
"The way you just sat there and took shit from Daniel." she scoffs, shaking her head again.
"Zahara, you said-"
"I know what I said. When it was about me. You shouldn't just sit there and listen to him talk shit about you, it's pathetic."
"I didn't want to upset you," I say quietly, kicking some gravel beneath my feet.
"I'm gonna go to my room and then go home," she sighs.
"Oh, right. Yeah, course." I nod.
"My roommate isn't home. She's in Brighton with her boyfriend,"
"Oh, okay."
"I live in SoHo,"
"I know."
"Are you going to come with me?"
"To your home?" I ask.
"Yes." she says.
"No?"
"Why?"
"I should get going." I nod.
"Okay," she says, dropping her cigarette to the floor and stepping on it, since there were no bins in sight. "I'll see you around, Harry. Sorry about this weekend," she says, turning away from me and starting back towards the hotel.
"Hang on," I say, taking a few steps to gently grab her hand. She spun around, a tired expression worn on her face. "Can I at least kiss you goodbye?"
"No, you can't," she says, shaking her head. "Nobody's watching us, Harry. We don't need to pretend," she says, looking away from me.
"Nobody was around last night, or this morning-"
"Harry, just- I don't want to kiss you goodbye, okay?" she snaps. I release her hand from my soft grasp.
"Sorry," I say. "I'll, um, text you?"
"For what?" she scoffs.
"To see how you are? To arrange seeing you? I don't know-"
"Harry, you did me a favour this weekend. But that's all. We don't need to extend this for any longer than needed, okay? Thank you for doing me a solid, I appreciate it." she says. I felt a weird pang in my chest as her words settled in.
"Okay." I nod.
Zahara turned back around and began to walk again, but I had one last thing to say.
"Zahara, wait," I call, jogging up to her until I was in front of her. She sighed, visibly.
"What, Harry?"
"So, is this it? I'm just never gonna see you again now? Because, from what it sounds like to me, that's what you're insinuating." I say, my voice a little shaky as I nervously awaited her response, which was pathetic of me. I hardly even knew the girl.
"I-I don't know. Okay? I just- I need to go," she says, pushing past me.
This time, I let her go. I let her go back into the hotel. And I watched her as she left; memorising, for what seemed to be the last time, just exactly how she looked as she walked away.