The sound of rain hitting the windows wakes me up, wondering what that constant tapping sound was.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Harry greets, standing next to the french doors that lead to the balcony, a mug in his hand. He wore a fluffy, purple dressing gown with the hood up.
"Is it raining?" I ask, even though the sound of water hitting the roof and windows made it totally obvious it was.
"Nope," Harry says, "the sprinklers are getting revenge for us running off last night."
"That was so cliche on the Universe's part," I say, sitting up and stretching my arms out. "It was a total High School Musical moment."
"I guess I have to get you a necklace with my initial on it then," Harry smirks, striding over to me.
"I guess so," I joke back, shrugging.
Harry sits down on the edge of the bed, obviously thinking about something. Soon enough, his head perks up, a smile on his face.
"You wanna do something fun?" Harry asks hopefully.
"Sure, what do you have in mind?"
"Window shopping," he suggests. "There's a whole street full of just little gift shops and stuff we could visit. Would you be up for it?"
"I mean, yeah that sounds fun." And then, as if right on cue, a sharp pain rips through my stomach. It felt like I had just been stabbed with the dullest and most ragged knife to ever exist and it made me want to cry out in pain, but I kept my cool. Instead of screaming bloody murder, I felt my face twist in discomfort.
"Are you alright, hun?" Harry asks, seeming genuinely concerned.
Quite literally digging my fingers into the spot where I felt the most pain, relieving the cramping briefly, I nod vigorously. "Yeah, I've just got a slight stomachache, that's all."
"Anything I can get you?" He offers, standing up quickly. "Water? Food? Oh, maybe you're hungry! There are a ton of snacks downstairs, I can go get you some."
"As much I'd kill for some cookies right now," I say, still considering the idea of snacks in my head, "I feel a little too sick to my stomach to eat right now. Thank you though."
"Always." He shrugs, smiling simply. "Just know, if you ever need anything, I've got you."
I smile at how considerate he was. Always so thoughtful. So...boyfriend material.
"Thank you, Harry."
"No, I'm being serious," he says quickly, sitting back down on the edge of the bed, but this time closer to me. "No matter what it is you need, I will get it for you. Food, water, someone to cry with...a fucking house! Whatever it is, I will get it for you."
I sigh. "Again, thank you. But you don't need to do anything for me."
"But that's the thing," he continues, "I know I don't need to do anything. I'm going to do it because I want to, not because I feel obligated to."
Harry was so incredibly sweet. I mean, first of all, he brought me along on his vacation to the Caribbean. Then took me on a late-night walk on the beach—then ended up getting soaked by sprinklers. And now here he was, saying the nicest things any man has ever said to me. The men in my family, not only included but especially.
"That's very sweet of you, Harry," I say wholeheartedly, smiling simply.
* * *
Hands together, fingers intertwined, Harry and I walk down the side of the street, looking around at all the cool clothing and souvenirs the small shops had to offer.
"Hey Lils," Harry says to me, stopping in his tracks. "Think I should get that?"
He points over to a rack filled with shirts of all colors, sleeve lengths, and styles. But the top he was gesturing towards was a sweater, striped with an assortment of colors. It quite honestly looked like something he would've worn in 2017, given the fact that he wore things like that all the time back then.
"Would you ever even wear that?" I ask as he begins to walk away from me, physically drawn to the shirt.
Harry reaches the sweater and takes the hanger off the rack, examining it further. He frowns as he looks up at me.
"I mean, probably not," he admits, shrugging his shoulders, "But I want a souvenir. I want something to take home as a reminder of this trip with you."
I felt my heart warm. He wanted something to remind him of this trip with me.
Did that mean I was the reason he wanted a souvenir?
"They have mugs," I suggest. That seemed like something he would use a little more often than that sweater. Knowing him, he would probably get one use out of that god-awful sweater at most.
"Yeah but..." His face lights up as he stops himself, replacing the remainder of his words with a gasp of excitement. He must have just gotten an idea he thought was absolutely brilliant. "We could get matching ones!" he suggests, his grin brighter than the sun.
Upon hearing his words, my mind immediately traced back to us standing in the gift shop in Steamboat Springs. Looking at the weed shirt, to be more specific.
"Oh that may not be the best idea, considering what happened last time I suggested getting matching shirts," he says looking down. It was like he read my mind. "I got all petty and was like 'let's just go home,'" he says the last part like a child pouting because their mom won't buy them a $60 toy on their trip to the grocery store.
Harry pauses to chuckle as he looks down and shakes his head, probably feeling bad for the way he acted in that gift shop.
"But to be fair, you did call me an arrogant son of a bitch," he doesn't forget to mention.
"But to be fair," I say the exact same way he did, "you did call yourself and arrogant son of a bitch."
"But you agreed."
"No, I mentioned the lyric. I said you weren't arrogant. And I meant it."
He smirks at my stubbornness. I wasn't going to let him think I thought he was arrogant because one, that wasn't true and two, he seemed pretty hurt by just the thought of me thinking he was arrogant in the gift shop.
"Get the god damn sweater," I say, rolling my eyes.
"No. It's ugly," he mocks himself playfully, causing me to swat him on the arm. He laughs at my reaction, satisfied with himself.
I groan as I'm thinking in my head, this again?!
"Alright, alright," he says, returning back to a more serious state. "I'm going to get it. But under one condition."
"Which is?"
"You have to wear it sometime."
My eyes widen as that was not what I was expecting him to say.
I sigh as I give in, "Sure, whatever."
He smiles crookedly as he takes the sweater over to a woman sitting behind a small, slender table. There, he pays for the hideous sweater that I was going to have to wear one day.
* * *
As Harry watches a woman braiding another's hair, I feel something wet drop onto my face.
"Harry," I say, earning his attention, "I think it's raining."
"Oh don't be silly," he says, waving me off with a smile on his face.
And, sure enough, a few moments later, the rain was pouring down. Luckily a store nearby was selling umbrellas, so we picked one up to use on our way back to the villa.
Harry and I walk together in the rain, an umbrella over our heads. The fact that there hasn't been much paparazzi amazed me. Not that I was complaining, since that meant Harry and I could walk together freely without having to worry about pictures being taken of us.
"Excuse me," a young voice says behind Harry and me, putting a halt to all of my inner thoughts.
Harry turns around to face what turned out to be a young girl, maybe 15. I was starting to notice a pattern in Harry's fans—usually teens or young adults.
"Yes?" He says, smiling.
"Hi Harry," she says sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
She said something else after, but I didn't quite catch it. Instead, my attention was all focused on the sharp pain ripping through my stomach once again, causing my knees to buckle.
I suck in a (subtle) sharp breath, clutching my side. I didn't want to take away from this moment since it was probably going to be the best day of that girl's life.
Harry made conversation with her and when there was a moment I could speak, I quickly whispered to him, "I'm going to keep walking. I'll meet you back at the house."
The rain was now down to just a small drizzle, so I had no problem leaving him with the umbrella. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get the chance, I stepped away.
It honestly hurt a little to walk, but that didn't stop me. My motivation for getting home was being able to lie down and get rid of this horrendous stomachache.
The sound of quickly approaching footsteps startles me, causing me to whip around. It turned out to be Harry, and just as I'd turned around, he was less than a foot behind me.
Just as I was about to ask him why he left that fan behind, he wraps and ties his newly bought sweater around my waist, switching my question immediately. He said he wanted me to wear it some time, but I didn't think he meant today and I definitely didn't think he meant like this.
"Harry, what are you-"
"Shh," he shushes me in a calm voice, looping his arm around my waist while still holding the umbrella above us. "Let's get home, yeah?"
He begins to walk quicker, pushing me along with him, seemingly very eager to get home.
Within a matter of minutes, we return back to our villa. Harry leads me into the house and we're greeted by everyone there, all bonding in the living room. But he doesn't stop to say hello to any of them, he just leads me up the stairs that lead to our bedroom.
Bursting through the door, he leads me past the bed--where I wanted to be the very most right now--and takes me straight into the bathroom. He releases me from his hold with a panicked look on his face.
"Take off your clothes," he instructs, keeping his distance.
"Woah there, cowboy," I say, my eyes widening at his very demanding request.
"Not like that." He rolls his eyes, walking around me in the direction of the bathtub.
I pull my shirt up over my head as Harry turns on the bath.
"You want to take another bath?" I ask, unbuttoning my light washed jean shorts, letting them fall to the ground.
"This isn't for me." He sighs, adjusting the temperature.
And that's when I see it. A big red stain in the center of my shorts, visible for the entirety of the world to see. I gasp as I look down at it, embarrassment flooding over my entire body.
Tears are brought to my eyes as my hand covers my mouth.
"O-Oh...my...god," I stutter, staring down at it in disbelief. This has never happened to me before. I've always been prepared and always knew when my period was coming. How could I be so irresponsible as to not check?!
I look over at Harry, whose brows were furrowed together in concentration as he focused all his attention on the running water.
"Harry I'm so so sorry," I say frantically, hunched over as a single tear escapes from my eye.
"Honey, please don't apologize," he says sweetly, shaking his head. He wipes his hand on his shorts and stands up to face me. "You didn't bring anything, did you?"
"No," I look down sheepishly, shaking my head, "no I didn't."
"That's alright," he says. Once he makes his way over to me, he wraps his arms around my shoulders to envelop me in a hug, which I honestly really needed right now.
"I can't believe..." I say, shaking my head against his chest.
"It's okay," he says, combing my hair softly with his fingers. After a moment, he pulls away to look at me in the eyes. "I'll tell you what, you get into the bath and relax for a while and I will run to the store and grab you whatever you need."
"You'd really do that for me?" I ask, my heart warming.
"Of course," he says, smiling simply.
"I-I don't know what to say," I stammer, "T-Thank you!"
"Anytime," he says, placing a kiss on my forehead and leaving the room.