Sycamore Tree // H.S. (HIATUS)

twenty-two

Warm rays of sunshine lay on your face, making you turn around before you manage to open your eyes.
Only to find the other side of the bed empty.
You groan as you hug the blanket tightly; you're not hungover, yet it takes a second for the events of last night to replay in front of your inner eyes.
Your clothes still lay spread out all over the floor, Harry's however are loosely folded on his side of the bed.

You sit up and cover your naked body with the blanket, the door leading into the bathroom is wide open. Harry stands half dressed with his back to you by the sink, watching you in the mirror.

"Morning, baby," he says smiling. His hair is wet, he just got out the shower. You reach over the bed and pull his T-shirt over your body. For some reason, being naked with Harry when you sleep with him doesn't bother you, but whenever it comes to showing your body to him when he's actually aware of it and not about to have sex with you, you're embarrassed.
"Hungry?" he asks pulling his hoodie on.

"Yeah," you say quietly and get out of bed to get fully dressed, "do you think anyone heard us?"

"Last night?" Harry stands leaning against the wall coolly with his arms crossed in front of his chest, "probably, we weren't particularly quiet. But who cares," he walks over to sit on the bed so he can keep watching you get ready to get breakfast.

"I do," you say splashing some cold water in your face, then grabbing the towel to dry it, "it took me long enough to let you hear me."

Next thing you feel is Harry's arm around your waist, holding you tightly to his body. Gently, he takes the black towel out of your hands and make your eyes meet in the mirror.
"Did you enjoy it last night?"

Confused about his actions and his questions you nod, "yes, I-"

"Then don't bother. No one here knows us, okay? No one here is ever gonna see us again. No one here is gonna kill us if they heard us," he pauses and tries to read your face, but he can't because it's empty, you're not thinking anything, "I'm proud that you start letting go."

"It's just weird to imagine tha-"

"Come on. Let's get you something to eat," he breaks the embrace to take your hand and drag you downstairs into the lobby of the small hotel.
You're glad to find the door leading to the right widely open, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and daily fresh croissants comes from the bright room that it leads to. Your eyes find the clock on the wall behind the counter again. 9:53.
You wonder if it's stuck at the time, but you have no chance to hang in your thoughts for too long, Harry drags you into the breakfast room with him.
A couple of tables are spread across the room. Dark red runners are draped across them lazily. Each table is decorated with a couple of plates, cutlery, mugs and glasses for water.
The two other guests whose names you spotted in the book last night sit at tables on either side of the room, one of them is hiding behind today's Le Monde the other one greets you with a simple nod before he lifts his coffee and falls back into his thoughts.

Harry and you make yourselves comfortable at a table close to the door and choose your breakfast from the  sparse buffet. It is so peacefully quiet in the sunlit room that no one dares to break the silence which is only interrupted by the sound of newspaper pages being flipped and folded.

You, or more Harry, decide to take a walk along the beach before you head back to Paris.
The beach is much more crowded in the morning than it was at night.
The sound children screaming in excitement fills the air and as you're finding the way down to the shore. You watch a young man arrive to the beach along with a young beautiful woman who pushes a stroller carefully over the sand. He looks familiar and it takes a second before you realize you've seen him once before. Last night in the supermarket. He seems to be less exhausted on this warm morning and you instantly hope that he got a good night's sleep.