Amber Easton

Okay. So I guess we're going to Italy. In Sarah's words - the best vacation I've ever went on.

At first, I was very skeptical about the thought of it, but she said that beaches, canyons, sun, and a shit ton of writing music is awaiting me in the most beautiful commune in Sicily - Motta Camastra.

We're spending 5 days in the house next to the beach. I don't think this could be any more perfect, honestly.

"Are you serious?" Liv turns her head to mine, and I'm grateful she didn't swerve the car she's currently driving into another truck. "Niall's here too?"

Her shocked question leaves her lips in panic, making me bite my tongue to stop laughing. "Yeah, I mean Sarah said everyone can bring a 'plus one', and I chose you. I guess Harry decided to bring him."

"Damnit, Amber! I would've brought prettier swimsuits or something!" She nervously straightens her car into the parking lot where Sarah and Mitch accompanied by Niall are waiting for us.

"Relax, he wouldn't care about the swimsuits as long as he'd get under them," I laugh before unbuckling my seatbelt and striding ahead to the trio.

"Good-morning, ladies!" Niall straightens his posture before heading to help us with our suitcases.

"Where's your 'plus one'?" I pull out my baggage, the butterfly keychain dangling on it beautifuly.

"He's uhm-" He scratches the back of his head, and checks his phone. "I think he's stuck in trafic. He'll be here soon, though."

"What took you so long?" Sarah rapidly pulls out the plane tickets from her purse. "We have to go now if we don't want to miss our flight."

"Here." She hands one ticket to Liv in a motherly manner. She then turns to me, shoving two tickets in my hand. I look at her in confusion but she shrugs it off. "You're going to wait until Harry arrives. The rest of us are going to rush and try to figure out the gate and everything. I'll text you right after."

"Sure." I take the offer with a bit of trepidation. They all disappear before I can ask any further questions, leaving me to sit on top of my suitcase and wait for his car to pull up where Sarah instructed.

I'm honestly a bit scared to see Harry. I can't believe a few days ago I broke down like that with him next to me. Even though he assured it's fine, I'm still very embarrassed.

It doesn't take long until a taxi parks right next to me, letting a scruffy chestnut figure leave the car and move in my direction.

"Hi." I get up from my seated position, and hand him his ticket.

He stops for a moment, scratches under his nose and pulls the piece of paper out of my hand. "Hi." He answers in the most freakishly cold tone one could muster, and takes huge strides to the entrance without giving me a second glance. Even his steps have a bitter touch.

Shit.

We spend some time just walking toward the airport in silence, but the gravel crunching beneath our feet and the sound of the suitcase's little wheels gets too lound, so I'm the first one to speak up.

"I'm sorry about the other night. I understand if you're mad at me after that." The tone in my voice is direct, and I try my best to avoid eye contact.

He stops his walk, releasing a tiredly exaggerated sigh while leaving an annoyed impression. "Amber, it's not that. I just haven't had any sleep."

His eyes fall down to mine, then to my hair and other features. I notice his jaw clench and unclench before he rubs his face with both of his hands. "It's really fucking with my mind."

He pulls on some black sunglasses, and I part my lips to respond to the strange statement but a dozen of text message dings ring through my phone.

Sarah:
WHERE
ARE
YOU

"Oh shit." I quickly explain what Sarah just sent me, and it immediately flips a switch in Harry's mind because his dull expression clears, and he takes me by my hand and pulls me to the entrace that usually is the least dense.

There's no way we're making it there in time.

I trip over my feet multiple times with the speed he's striding, and for a moment, I catch a glimpse of hope that maybe we can make it before the plane ascends.

But the hope slowly dims to nothing when a crowd of cameras wait for us next to the entrance we anticipated entering.

"For fucks sake." Harry mutters under his breath, while I clutch my suitcase tightly, making sure to not drop it and lose time.

The paps get louder and harsher the closer we get to the main door. They call out specific phrases to get a reaction out of us, but I make sure to disregard any of them this time.

The flashlights make me see small black stars flying around the air, so I have to depend on Harry's hand to pull us out of the crowd since my vision is totally useless now. I could swear the people are engulfing us tighter and tighter with less than a feet left to move, but that's probably just my imagination.

Thanks, claustrophobia. You've taken a toll on me yet again.

With my shallow breaths shuddering with each step we make, I feel my hand getting sweatier and starting to slip from Harry's, but he notices the change and grasps my hand even tighter. He takes this as a sign, and determinedly shoves through the cameras, finally allowing us to enter the security part of the airport. I'm pretty sure Harry raised his voice at one of the men, but I couldn't quite make the phrase out with my ears ringing as loud as they did.

Once we're completely away from everybody, hidden into a dark corner, I let my suitcase drop to the ground, and bury my face in my sweaty palms, deliberately swinging back and forth in relfex.

"Fuck, Amber. You okay?" He nervously brushes his fingers through his hair, and lowers himself to my hunched body.

His voice easily snaps me out of the trance, and I blink the little stars away from my vision, seemingly getting back to my normal shape in a matter of seconds. "H-Hurry, we can't miss the flight." I pick up the case again and set off to the security controls with my vision still blury.

One step.
Two steps.
Three.

He grabs me by the elbow and turns me around, letting me see a deep line between his brows creating a frown. "We've still got time. You look like you could throw up, though."

"Yeah, the flashes just make me dizzy. Seriously, we have to go!" Iritation is heard in my voice, and it seems to let us both move. My footsteps have a hint of rage targeted Harry's way. Seriously, even a teenager doesn't act the way he does today. One moment he's annoyed with me for whatever reason, but the next he acts like he's worried about me.

I could tolerate it, but the fact we're mere minutes away from missing the flight just adds onto the fuel. Seriously, I'm not letting go of the opportunity to visit the place I've forever dreamed of living in, just because Harry decided to show up late.

On the bright side, I didn't know there was an opportunity to go through a faster security line, which Harry was led through because he's famous. My phone keeps going off like crazy, and it only adds tension to our search for the right gate.

Out of breath, with red cheeks and impatient huffs, we finally arrive at supposedly the right area, but I double check if we've rushed to the right place because the line of people usually waiting before the plane in nowhere to be seen.

No. No. No. No.

"Excuse us. Could you please let us in?" Harry asks the woman standing behind the table next to the closed door. Through the huge glass-panneled windows, I can still see the plane we're supposed to get onto still intact. Maybe the hope is not lost yet.

She lets out a small laugh and drags, "No can do, sorry. The gate closed three minutes ago."

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Harry takes three steps back, and shares a confused looks with me. "No, try again!" I whisper-shout in a way only he can see. "Can't you use your charm to let us in?"

And just like that, it's like all the stars in the universe and all the possible Gods laugh at me because the plane takes off right before our noses.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

It's one of those moments where your heart sinks. Or your stomach drops like the times riding an elevator. It's like a thousand-pound heavy rock is descended onto your chest.

They're going to be sipping on Margaritas next to a pool without me.

In this moment of shock I should dramatically drop my suitase onto the shiny tiles, letting all the clothing I missed the chance of using spill out. Or maybe I should throw my phone across the whole place with nobody except Harry, me and the dismissive woman. I should rather throw the buzzing device at him with all the anger I have rushing through my veins because it's not my fault I was told to wait for grumpy Harry. It's also not my fault we got held up by the paparazzi because, frankly, they only were there because of Harry and drama revolving around him.

It's all his fault.

In this moment of shock I should yell at him for ruining this trip for me, but instead I just blankly stare at the place where the airplane was sat mere seconds ago.

I stare at the empty space in denial with no blinking. I stare at it until the information registers in my brain, and I finally connect my vision with an unbothered Harry.

"So, you think I'm charming, huh?" Is the only phrase I hear leave his tugged-up lips, and it takes everything in me to keep my calm.

~~~

3 hours. 13 calls. 5 annoyed huffs.

There are 3 hours we've waited for the next flight, 1 more to go.

Within the span of 13 calls, we've successfuly collected two more tickets to Italy with the help of our manager, Jeff. Since the flight isn't straight to Sicily, we'll have to go a few hours with a ferry to only then arrive at the resort.

We're currently walking around the over-priced shops in the airport, and I've already let out at least 5 huffs targeted to him trailing behind me everywhere I go. 'We can't lose each other, and miss the flight again,' was his only excuse to why he won't leave me alone in peace.

"I think this one's nice. It has a very flowery scent. You like flowers, right?" He sprays one of the tester perfumes on my neck, while I try to get to the beauty aisle in Victoria's Secret, but he's blocking the way.

Here comes the next huff.

"Oh wait, but this one has prettier packaging." He grabs a red fragrance bottle and sprays it in my direction again, letting a mix of scents linger on my neck.

"Oooh! Look at the name of this bottle; 'First Love' ! Would you like that?" He lifts the container up, but I let out an irritated 'Stop it' in resistance.

I try to give him a deadly glare, connecting his sight with mine. The more and more I gaze in his deep eyes, I can't help but break a tiny smile at his childish behavior.

"I'm serious!" I hold a hand in front of me to forbid him from dispensing any more mist. "Okay, okay." He lets out a disappointed sigh, and I lower my hand in victory, but he's quick to raise the bottle again and spray the awfully sweet perfume in my hair.

I stand there in shock for a moment, because he pushes down on the nozzle so many times in a row. "Harry," I try to keep my calm. "You did not just sprinkle half of the bottle on me!  I'm going to have the biggest headache."

"Oops." He doesn't look guilty one bit. "I thought you wanted some love."

I swear, he changes his mood more than I do socks.

After standing there for about a minute and disapprovingly shaking my head, I grab two random perfume bottles and spritz them in his hair and neck while making sure to get it on his clothes in revenge.

I definitely caught him off guard because he just stands in front of me, not moving. Deadly moments of us looking at each other in silence goes by, and I'm pretty sure he's about to let out an angry remark, but he stops his sentence half-way when he hears my hysterical laughter.

"Would you look at that? She knows how to laugh." He drags out, still boring deep into my eyes.

I slowly recover from my laughter attack, finally getting past Harry and heading straight to the section I wanted — nail polishes. I quickly grab a handful of tubes and go to the cash register with him still following me.

The lady at the register scans the products, but gives us a sideglance with her nose scrunched up from the mix of the floral mists.

Yikes.

It's safe to say I exited that shop as fast as I could with Harry sniggering behind me.

Now we're staying in a bathroom for the remaining 20 minutes before our flight. He's sitting in the middle of two elevated sinks, swinging his legs in a back and forth motion. A slurpee rests between his hands, and he's sipping on the blue drink in a way that creates a pesky noise.

What flavor even is that?

My suitcase is flatly open, while I dig around the contents of it to try and find something to get rid of the awful scent on my neck. I notice Harry leaning a bit forward to take a peek, but I shut it closed, pulling out a packaging of wet wipes.

I grab a single tissue and rub it against my neck over and over again. A middle-aged lady exits one of the stalls, and raises an eyebrow at us both. I'm not sure if she recognized Harry or is weirded out by the fact that he's located in a lady's restroom with a straw between his lips, but either way she lets out a disapproving cough, and throws us a dark glance before exiting the room.

"She didn't even wash her hands." I let out a laugh, still rubbing at my neck with the wipe until the skin's gotten red. I still can't tell if the scent has disappeared or not.

"I can't tell if it's gone," I let out a frustrated curse, taking a fresh wipe and trying again.

"Don't do that. You'll inflame the skin even more." He hops down the vanity, putting down his drink while gently pulling the tissue out of my fingers.

He takes one step toward me, and I take one back in reflex to give him space.

Another step. And another.

He continues to make multiple strides toward me, while I take the equal amount of them backward until my back hits the opposite wall.

He brushes his finger down my cheekbone, behind my ear until his digit has successfuly taken hold of my hair.

He motions his hand lower, and brushes my curls behind my shoulder to one side.

He gradually lowers his head to my shoulder, then my neck, then finally to my collarbone, and I could swear he pressed his lips to my bare skin, taking in the scent of the perfume.

"Smells."

He moves his lips a bit higher, applying a bit more pressure than before.

"Like."

His lips move to my jaw, pressing a gentle peck on the bone. I feel my breath hitch from the spot he traced his tongue over.

"Perfection."

His fingers trace down my hand, his palm finding my hip.

"Like the prettiest flowers in your garden, Amber," he whispers near my ear, and, suddenly, I find myself admiring the way my name rolled off his tongue.

His breath lingers over mine, and I finally realize the taste of his slurpee was raspberry. My hands slowly find the back of his neck, but I immediately pull back when a noise breaks out from one of the stalls.

Fuck.

A teenage girl steps out of the stall, and I pretend to be doing something with my suitcase, while Harry's already 5 steps back from me, sipping on the blue drink. The girl tries to cover a smirk when washing her hands, but fails when connecting her eyes with mine.

Well, that's definitely making it to the tabloids.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

"We gotta rush to the plane." I avoid eye contact with him, gathering my stuff.

Screw Harry, screw the world, screw us.

"Y-Yeah," he clears his throat, throwing out the remnants of the slurpee.

I stand up, brush a curl out of my eyes, and head straight to our terminal, only guessing that he's following behind me.

~~~

We spent the whole plane ride in silence. No words were spoken between us, as he put his earphones in, and listened to music, whole I binge-watched some TV show I didn't really pay attention to.

What the fuck happened?

I mean, technically, we didn't even kiss, but it was enough to have the red alert sirens in my head go off.

I can't slip up.
I can't slip up.
I can't slip up.

Should I manifest that?

Our incident in the bathroom gave me a glimpse of what actually kissing him would be like, and it's scaring me. I promised myself I'd never get even near those situations, but look at me now; I know the flavor of his Slurpee without tasting it.

Typical Amber.

"Uno me... room." Harry tries explaining to the lady at the cash register with me standing by his side. He's doing a bunch of motions with his hands, pointing to his chest, and drawing something in the air.

What Jeff didn't tell us beforehand, is that we'd have to buy the tickets for the ferry ourselves. How are we magically supposed to tell her we need two separate rooms? Oddly enough, she doesn't even speak English.

"Due persone." I put up two fingers, showing her we need tickets for two people. I would pull out my phone to Google translate it, but there's really bad reception here, and a huge line of people are waiting behind us, which is making me really nervous.

The dark twilight starts setting in, so it's quite difficult to see anyone's faces, but from the shadows of the lady's expressions, I can tell she's smiling.

"Ah, sì, biglietti per due persone, piccioncini. Ho capito." The lady nods over-exaggeratingly, handing out two tickets after Harry pays for them both. I insist I pay for mine, being so close to putting my money on the table just to spite him, but he pretends to ignore my protest and begins rolling the suitcase with my wallet to the ferry until we've already entered it, leaving me moneyless.

"I'm so mad at you right now, Harry." I can't help but pull out my suitcase from his hand once we're in the ferry, making him stop his strides. He turns to me, his brows furrowed.

"Let's just go to our rooms, and don't see each other until... our stop," I insist in a splurge of madness, already wondering if I could sleep through this nightmare the whole ride.

"Okay." A curl on his head flaps when he looks down to check his ticket for the room number, as I repeat his actions, seeing 'Interior Cabin 7532' on my slot of paper.

I let out a heavy breath, and turn to the nearest staircase without a second glance at him.

Struggling, with a sweaty back, I walk up 5 decks. I start cursing at my luggage for being so heavy because I have 2 more to go, and it's an absolute hassle to carry up the stairs. I stop for a minute to take a breath, closing my eyes, hunched over, and leaning against the wall of the staircase.

Once I've regained my normal composure, I take three or four steps up the stairs, but stop when I hear a noise behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of Harry walking behind me. The hell? Is his room seriously going to be in the same wing as mine?

I can't have a repeat of what happened in the bathroom today.

I shake the thoughts out of my head, and continue double-strides up the soft velvet stairs, my steps having a bit of spunk in them. With one deck finished, I've finally figured out a technique to carry the luggage in a way that doesn't completely kill my arms.

Now I can't tell if I'm mad at his behavior today or just scared of what will happen for the remaining