Stranded [harry styles] ✓

19

"Do you like games?"

Harry's voice cuts into the night like a knife. We're curled against our palm leaves and towels; his arm draped lazily across my waist. 

"What sort of games?" I ask and raise a single eyebrow, regardless of the fact he can't see it. I'm wearing one of the hooded sweatshirts from his duffel bag; it's dark green with the Green Bay Packers logo on the front and is soft against my dry, dehydrated skin. He shuffles around before answering, bringing himself closer to my back. 

"Well, more specifically, a twenty questions sort of game." He sounds excited as if he's been thinking about this for a while.

"I'm not sure I can stay awake for twenty questions." I mumble and yawn for good measure. He pinches my shoulder. "Hey!"

"Fifteen questions then?" His voice is almost pleading. He doesn't sound even remotely tired and I can't understand why. I'm so emotionally drained from today's events, regardless of the fact it wasn't even my luggage that washed up. I just feel so ecstatically happy for Harry. With Jules plaguing my dreams, I've never felt entirely stranded from home here and now that Harry has his personal belongings - he isn't either.

"Ten?" I barter and he begins to hum as if considering my offer. I wait silently with my head resting against my arms. If he takes much longer, I'll surely fall asleep...

"Deal." He announces suddenly, just as my eyes threaten to seal shut. "Ten questions it is."

"Wonderful." I release a huff of air in a sort of sarcastic laugh. "What do you want to know now?" 

"Hey, don't be a spoilsport." He mutters and I feel the light pressure of his lips just below my left earlobe. The skin tingles the moment he pulls away and I blush profusely; thankful it's too dark for Harry to notice. "What's your favourite colour?"

I can't help but snort.

"You're limited to asking me ten questions and you ask one of those most boring of them all?" Behind me, Harry groans in annoyance. 

"Answer the bloody question, Sarah, or you're going to wake up in the sea tomorrow morning." He tries to sound serious but amusement is evident in his tone and without even looking, I know full well his lips are twitching with a suppressed smile. 

"Ok, ok." I chuckle and pull my left arm out from under my head to interlink my fingers with Harry's currently hooked over my side. With his palm now flush against the back of my hand, he begins to trace light circles on my skin with the pad of his thumb. "Green is my favourite colour. Yours?"

He shakes with laughter. "And there you were accusing me of a lack of creativity - you've just asked me my own question!" 

I roll my eyes and mimic his voice. "Answer the bloody question, Harry!"

His hold on my hand is released and suddenly his fingers dig into my sides; tickling the space below my rib cage. I thrash about, squealing and screaming with my legs kicking the air and my hands frantically trying to pry his own away from me. I try to roll onto my front but Harry has me in an iron grip and wrenches me backwards so that I'm flat on my back with him hovering above me like a shadow.  

"Stop!" I gasp desperately but I'm laughing. Tears stream down my cheeks in a frantic bid for freedom but Harry's tickling is relentless. He's laughing too, almost hysterically so and it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. It bounces against the palm trees towering over us, reverberating through his chest and into my own. 

"Too much backchat from you!" He howls, dodging my flailing arms as I attempt to push him away. In one brief movement, he's straddling my lap - pinning me against the rough surface of the palm leaf. His shadow lowers and suddenly his face is hovering mere centimetres above my own. I gasp again but his fingers cease in their assault, as does my rebellious thrashing about. 

Silence blankets us, leaving us staring at one another in the darkness. I can just about make out his features; the angle of his jaw and the curve of his nose. One of his hands raises up and brushes my hair out of my face, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its path. I'm breathing heavily but so is he. Both our hearts hammer against our chests and for a brief moment, it's hard to tell whose is whose. 

"Orange." He whispers against my lips. 

I blink, dazed as if waking up from a dream. "Pardon?"

"My favourite colour."

His hand skims down the side of my face before cupping it gently, and without thinking about it, I lean into his palm. His forehead comes down to meet my own and I'm surprised to find myself tilting my chin up towards him; asking a silent question. I hear a brief inhale of air, just as his mouth collides with mine and suddenly the world seems to fall away around us. 

I respond to the kiss with urgency; snaking my arms up and over his shoulders to slide my hands into his tangled mop of hair. I pull him towards me and he gasps before teasing his tongue against my already swollen lips. Our movements are impatient, erratic almost and I think I'm going to faint when his free hand is suddenly fraternising with the hem of his hoodie that I've hijacked. I sigh into his mouth and his cold fingertips slip underneath, now brushing against the thin material of the swimming costume. I almost want to curse at myself for wearing it but am instantly mortified at the realisation that I want nothing more than to feel his fingers against my bare stomach. 

My cheeks flame furiously but the heated kiss continues. 

My fingers knot in his hair, earning a satisfied grunt from Harry as his fingers begin their journey North against the swimsuit. It's like a trail of static electricity; each sweeping brush leaving my hairs standing up on end, buzzing with anticipation. I'm practically panting by the time his hand hesitates at the curve of my breasts and my body reacts automatically, arching my back upwards to meet him. He takes my hint and his hand twitches, just as something large and heavy plummets into the sand next to my head. 

I scream and throw Harry off of me; sending him hurtling backwards into the sand so that his legs almost roll over his head. As I haul myself up onto my feet, all I can think of is plane plane plane. The metal body slamming against the water. The darkness. The feeling of your feet coming away from the floor. The paralysing fear. 

And then suddenly Harry is laughing. 

"It's a coconut, Sarah. Just a coconut!" 

I blink at the object, obscured in the sand and in the darkness and after a brief moment, my body begins to shudder. Not with fear or sadness or shock. But with amusement. With laughter. Harry pulls himself up and hurries over to me; throwing his arms around me with such force that I'm almost sent flying. 

"Harry!" I exclaim as my feet leave the floor. He spins me around in a circle and I'm taken back to that first day - when we found water. Things are so different between us now and the realisation makes me blush. Minutes ago we were in a position that we would have never found ourselves in on that first day. He brings me close to his chest as I land back in the sand and I wrap my arms around his neck, drawing his mouth to my own. He's against my lips in seconds, kissing me as if our lives depend on it.

And in that moment, I realise that if they never come for us, if I'm stuck here forever - I might actually be ok with it. 

a/n: It's getting hot in here...