.Perfect Fantasy. |H.S.|

Chapter 41. Disarm.

.Natalia.

We waited for another hour that seemed like ten more hours. The sketchy vibe that followed driving me mad with every minute that ticked by and there was no clue as to Sean's whereabouts. A scooped-out, vacant feeling was inside of me, and it had only grown worse as the minutes passed by; moments spent rummaging through the drawers of the guest bedroom, my mind orbiting with the events of the day.

All of the stuff that I'd put out thrown into my suitcase, no careful packing, just shoving an enormous heap of things inside and forcing the suitcase shut, sliding the zipper as the last morning recollection took place.

I tried my best to listen to Harry's theories about Sean not being in the house, but there was certainly no fair explanation for it; his expression never changing as he inclined his head, obviously pondering over possible scenarios.
It all became too real when we'd both snooped into his room only to find his stuff prudently arranged against the queen bed that was made as if the room was unoccupied.
Nothing out of place except the black coat he'd worn all week hanging on the closet door.
No phone, no wallet, no shoes.
A slightly confused frown had crossed over Harry's features like that wasn't what he'd been expecting, but he didn't elaborate further, just nodded and asked me politely to get ready.

So this day hadn't gone the way I wanted; instead of having a nice breakfast or stealing a fast kiss from his lips, I was sticking a mixture of dirty and clean clothes into the small vacant spaces and collecting my bathroom belongings.

I eased along, dragging the heavy suitcase down the wooden steps, making the second trip downstairs as I carefully piled my books and bags against one of the walls; throat closing with an evident melancholy and my eyes looking for him.

"Have you seen Harry?" I dumbly asked my cat friend as she was lying on her side, her paw playing with the ends of the sofa. I stroked her belly and kept looking around. But there was no one in the kitchen. I shuffled the other way so I could see the couch tucked away from the huge windows of the television room. Nothing.

I exited by the nearest door and stood still, breathing deeply of the humid air and letting the morning chill cool my weary face and calm my frazzled emotions.
Soft earthy-breezes blew against me, and they smelled of heavy rain—rain that had been holding off all morning but was sure to fall sooner or later.

I turned to the soft sound on my left, and what I saw took my breath away.

Harry was lying on a stretch of pavement, not an ounce of worry was perceived as he wore a lazy smile and closed eyes, arms carefully placed like a pillow under his head where his hair was swirled in careless curls, restrained by a rolled pinkish red bandana pushed on his forehead. His rosy lips where mouthing a slow song, making me fight a sudden urge to wind my fingers into the silky twirly strands. I stole a second glance at him not believing my eyes, a pearly pink glow had washed his cheeks and he looked so damn gorgeous under broad daylight.

He turned his face to the side and took a clear, deep breath, eyes glistening with mischief.

"You don't by any chance know anything about changing spares, do you?"

I couldn't help but laugh.
That's when I saw the bag of tools sloppily opened and the car wheel that was used as a resting bench by his white running shoes. "Ehrm, nope, sorry," I eyed him shrewdly, approaching him and his kinda dorky look with soft footsteps. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm done with the whole... er, packing."

As I reluctantly turned my eyes away from the wide open car manual resting on his hips, he was gazing at me. "That was fast."

I looked away for a second, my face probably creased with concern. "Well you were very stressed out this morning, so I did my best."