Chapter 19.2

THIS ONE IS NSFW! 

You've been warned.

Disclaimer: All rights reserved. No copyright infringement is intended. Bex, her co-conspirators and the plot are mine. The Men of 1D are not. This is 90% fiction...10% real. The concerts were real...weren't they?

Enjoy. Oh...and have a pair of knickers on standby. Just sayin'. 

“I Want”

Chapter 19, Take 2

Dubai

April 5, 2015

Ever had one of those moments in life where you say to yourself, “Shit! How the hell did I end up here?”  Maybe it was that time you ended up getting fired?  Or maybe you had a car accident?

Had a car blow up next to you?

Or you find yourself in bed with a pop star...

Mmhmm...

Soft, unruly curls tickle my cheek. Warm metal lays against the inside of my thigh. The sound of a gentle snore resonates against my shoulder. I pry the hand from between my legs and turn as gently as possible. He stirs and the snoring stops, but picks back up a second or two later. The hand that was nestled between my legs now sits on my left hip. It twitches once. Caged between his arms, I snuggle into the pillow and just look at him.

He’s disheveled, sawing logs and naked. He’s warm and smells faintly of sweat, cologne and me. For the first time, I notice more small moles scattered on his face and neck. The stubble on his chin is blond, but darker above the rounded bow of his top lip. He lets out a small noise and his lips pucker a little. Ever so gently, I run my middle finger across his bottom one. I don’t think I’ve ever seen lips like his on a man.

Yeah, how the hell did I get here?

“Tog,” he whimpers. His forehead creases deeply.

“Harry? Are you awake?”

“No.”

“Harry?”

“Hm?”  

“Are you awake?” I ask again. I’m pretty sure he’s talking in his sleep.

“Sure. Are you okay?” His eyes are still closed.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say taking his right hand. He pulls me in tighter burying his face in my neck. I look towards the window and decide a little more sleep won’t hurt.

~</3~

“Jesus...these things are really tight,” I complain as the Skydive Dubai employee pulls on the straps.

“They have to be,” H says next to me. He’s decked out in goggles. “Safety first.”

“How the hell did you talk me into this?”

“I didn’t,” He laughs. “I made the reservations and you didn’t protest.”

“Fucking hell,” I shake my head.

“We need to talk about your mouth,” he laughs.

“Oh?”

“You swear a lot.”

“And?”

“It’s not an attractive trait,” he says playing with the rings on his fingers.

“Neither is drooling on someone while they sleep, but I didn’t call you on it,” I shrug. “Speaking of sleeping...do you know you talk in your sleep?” I ask as I put my own goggles.  

“I am aware that I talk in my sleep. Don’t change the subject. Why do you swear so much?”  

“I don’t know. I just do. Doesn’t make me any less intelligent.”

“I’m not inferring that...”

“This is me, Harry. If you can’t take my occasional shit or fuck...I’m gonna have to cut you loose. I mean...maybe I should date Louis? He doesn’t seem to mind a good curse word,” I tease.  His eyes darken a bit.

“I didn’t say I couldn’t take it. I just don’t think it’s necessary.” His voice is stern. “And you might want to rethink involvement with Louis.” It’s a definite warning.

“I was joking, Harry. Calm down,” I say patting his chest before walking toward the plane. “Besides, I’ve got enough to handle with you let alone deal with Louis.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!?!” He moans as we board.

We take off a few minutes later. We listen to more instructions from the men going up with us. One tethers himself to me.

“Wait...I thought he was going with me?” I ask pointing at Harry.

“He is,” the man nods.

“Then why are you attached to my back?” I ask nervously.

“I’ve only gone up a few times, Tog. It wouldn’t be safe,” Harry answers taking my hand.

“Nope...not gonna do this. You go ahead and jump,” I mutter pulling my hand away to take off the rigging.

“Would you give us a minute?” Harry asks my human backpack. He unhooks himself from me and scoots away.

“Rebekah, it isn’t safe for me to be the one jumping with you. I’ll be as close as I can be. Alright? It’ll be over in a matter of minutes and we’ll be on our way to the jet,” he tries to reassure me.

I nod in response. How he’s able to calm me down every time, I don’t know...but I’m still not looking forward to this.

Both of the men check the equipment and give us final details.  

“On the count of four...Four!” The other man yells.

“Ready, Tog?!?!”

“Three...”

“OH MY GOD! I THOUGHT YOU SAID ON FOUR!” I scream as I’m thrown out of the plane.

“We thought you might chicken out,” I hear the man say in my ear. My human backpack taps my arm lightly.

“Keep your legs bent...there ya go!” He yells.  

Harry and the other man drift towards us. All I can make out is H’s dimples.

Wondering just how much longer we’ll be up here, I look down.

“Holy shit! Pull the cord!  PULL THE CORD! We’re gonna crash!”

“You’d never believe she was a photojournalist covering conflicts in the middle east, would you?” Harry laughs.

“Can we not discuss my occupation while we’re plummeting to the earth?  IS ANYONE GOING TO PULL THE FUCKING CORD?!?!?!”

“There’s that mouth again...” Harry yells.

“Fuck You, Harry!  When I’m dead...I’m gonna haunt your ass!” I scream at him. The man at his back pulls the cord and he floats up...laughing.

“I hate him...Jesus Christ Man!” I yell as my body is jerked up roughly. “It’s about fucking time!!!”

“Pull your knees up or you’ll break both your legs when we land,” Mr. JanSport laughs.

Just moments later, I’m laying face first in a pile of canvas.

“How we doing there, Tog?” I hear Harry ask somewhere above me.

“I hate you...”

The statement has him cackling as I untangle myself from the material.  The lovely man who tried to kill me unhooks himself and pulls the parachute off of us.

“Up ya go, Love,” Harry says offering me his hand.

I take it; allowing him to pull me to my feet. He lifts my goggles.

“See...wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“This will never happen again...do you hear me?” I poke his chest angrily.  

“Yeah it will,” he laughs at me.

“The next time I jump out of plane, it had better be on goddamn fire...” I say before stomping toward the SUV making its way through the field.

Dale appears from the passenger side, “So? It’s a rush, right?”

“Fuck you, Dale.”

Our trek to the jet is silent; other than their occasional snickers of amusement.

~</3~

Still coming down from thinking I was going to die, I scroll through the images on my laptop.

These guys sure are photogenic. There’s so much in these photos. Niall’s concentration while playing guitar. Liam’s amusement at the signs in the crowd. Louis’ mischievousness. Harry’s intensity on stage. As a teen, my dad took me to see some amazing concerts. The Stones, Aerosmith. Just like Mick and Steven, he belongs on stage.  He’s like an animal uncaged up there.

“Hey.”

Turning toward the voice, I smile at my friend, “Hi, Cal.”

“You got some pretty amazing shots of them,” he says reaching over me and scrolling up a few times.

“They’re OK. I didn’t have to do much. These guys are pretty camera friendly.”

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” He says softly.

“Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“Are you being careful?”

“Careful with what?” I ask confused.

“With H.”

“If you’re talking about whether or not we’re being seen together, yeah...Dale is pretty cautious about how we leave and enter places,” I say putting a new memory card into my laptop.

“No, Bex. Are you being careful?” He says touching my forearm.

I must be slow today.

“I think I’m missing something. What are you asking?” I scratch the back of my neck.

“Are you using protection?”

Oh boy.

“We...um...we don’t...haven’t...um...” I stutter.

“You need to be careful, Rebekah.”

Even though I’m embarrassed by the conversation, I realize that I need to tell him we haven’t had sex.

“I know that, Cal. The thing is,” I say swallowing hard. “We haven’t been that intimate.”

He shakes his head at me, “I know it’s none of my business and I’m not your father, but you can be honest with me. Harry’s a good egg, but he’s not a saint.  I just want you to be careful.”

“Why would I lie to you? We haven’t had sex. Harry is good and a gentleman. He would never push me to do anything I didn’t want to do. We’ve known each other a week,” I say shutting the laptop. “I know it may look like more is going on, but I’m not that kind of girl. It’s surprising that you would think that of me.”

Disgusted that my friend and mentor would think so little of me, I leave him sitting by himself. I nod at the steward before knocking on the door to the bedroom of the plane. After take off, Harry made his way back and hadn’t resurfaced.

“Come in.” His voice is raspy from not being used.

I open the door and expect to see him lying in bed. What I find is a media room with a two  couches and a large television. “The Notebook” plays quietly on the screen.

“Hey you,” I say closing the door behind me.

“Hello to you. Do you still hate me?” He asks patting the couch next to him.

“I never hated you. People say things they don’t usually mean when they think they’re going to die, “ I laugh.

I watch as he scoots to the end of the couch, reclining, “Well, come have a snuggle with me.”

Without hesitation, I wedge myself between his legs. I lay my head on his chest before he restarts the movie. I watch the film, but my mind is elsewhere. The conversation with Cal has my mind racing. “Harry’s a good egg, but he’s not a saint.”

What if I had had sex with him last night? Would that have been the end of this?  Is that all he’s looking for? Being on tour can get pretty lonely, or so I’ve heard. Has he accepted favors from fans? He said the last person he was “with” was Nadine.  I know when I come home from a job, I’m usually craving physical attention. Except I don’t have men falling at my feet the way women fall at his. He could have the pick of the bunch.

I usually spend the first few days bundled up on the couch with Grace or Em. I tend to be clingy with them. Em usually lets me lay with my head on her lap while she reviews case notes. Grace plays with my hair while she watches her shows on BBC. Em keeps telling me I need to get a good B.O.B. She feels I need to clear the “cobwebs from ye cellar.”  Once she makes that statement (which she does every time I come home), I head up to New York and see my family.

My mom and I cook. My brother and I spend a day watching our favorite films, holed up in my old bedroom. But I hover most around my dad.  Spending a few days following him around his offices at BBC America. He lets me drive his ‘67 Mustang while he tries to sing along with Mick to “Brown Sugar.” Once a visit, we have the conversation about me joining him there. And once a visit, I tell him he will always be my first love, but I will never work with or for him.

“Tog, what has you so distracted,” Harry asks stroking my cheek.

“Sorry,” I say softly.

“You don’t like The Notebook?”

“It’s actually one of my favorite movies to watch with my mom,” I answer honestly staring blankly at the screen. “We eat our weight in ice cream and go through a box of tissues.”

“What’s your mom like?”

“She’s your typical southern woman. She makes a good rack of ribs and cornbread. When she was a girl, she drove a huge, beat up old pickup truck with a gun rack.  She grew up in Texas and worked as a researcher and nurse at South Texas Medical Center with Ben’s dad. That’s how my parents met. Once she and my dad married, she moved to England with him,” I answer sticking my finger in one of the holes of his Rolling Stones shirt.

“So you weren’t born in the states?” He runs his fingers through the back of my hair.

“No, I was born at The Portland Hospital for Women and Children in London. We lived there until I was six.”

“A London girl, huh?” He pulls me up so we’re face to face.  His left leg snakes between mine trapping me in. “What happened to your accent?”

“Everyone made fun of me, so I worked very hard to sound like my friends,” I play with the crucifix on his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He lifts my chin so he can look me in the eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” I smile at him.

“Being made fun of is never easy.”

“I bet you were never made fun of in your life,” I laugh at him.  

“Everyone goes through something with their peers.”

“Harry Styles...no way. Who bullied you?” I ask in disbelief.

“I still go through things,” he answers solemnly.

“You have thousands of fans screaming for you every night.”

“You really have been living under a rock, haven’t you?” He laughs. “Louis and I get harassed daily. Liam gets shit for just opening his mouth. Niall seems to be the only one who doesn’t have any trouble.”

“What do you mean you and Louis get harassed?”

“Ever heard the term ‘Larry’ at any of the shows this past week?”

“Now that you mention it, there were two girls talking about it at the first show.”

“There’s a portion of fans who think Louis and I were or are in a relationship,” he says bitterly.

“Why would they think that?”

“We lived together after X Factor. No matter who I’ve dated; Louis being in a long-term relationship with Eleanor...they still think we’re together. They even analyze our tattoos...”

“Were you and Louis ever involved?” I ask seriously.  It’s not that I believe he’s gay. As I said before, he could easily have fit in in the seventies. He radiates a very free love vibe.

“No!”

“Alright, then what’s the big deal? Have you told them you aren’t involved?”

“Yes, we’ve both said so in interviews, but after a while...you just give up. They don’t believe us. They think management is closeting us.”

“How can management closet you? You are who you are, Harry. No one can take that from you.”

“It doesn’t matter what either of us posts on social media. There’s always someone who comments Larry or Larry is real. It’s a bit tiring.”

“Well, if they could see you now,” I smile at him again.

“They’d say you were my beard,” he laughs as he pulls me further up his body.

“I’ll be anything you want me to be,” I mumble.

“Where did that come from?” He asks staring into my soul.

“I...don’t know.”

“Sounds promising,” he says before kissing me deeply.  

I sigh as his tongue rolls against mine.

I shiver when his hand slides against my lower back.

I moan when he slips his hand into the back of my pants and grips my ass.

He releases my lips and runs his nose against mine. I let out a shuddering breath.

“Hm...seems like I’m hitting all the right spots tonight,” he whispers against my lips.

“Shit...we have to stop.” I reach around and pull his hand from my yoga pants.

He grumbles his displeasure as I lay my forehead against his chest.

“If we had had sex last night...” I start softly, “would that...is that...”  I can’t seem to get the words out. I know it’s because my mind wants the answer, but my heart doesn’t. What if he’s just been playing me here?

My mind heart shouts at me, “He’s not!!!” My head...not so sure.

“Rebekah, what are you asking?”

I sigh uncomfortably, “If we had slept together last night...would we be laying here like this tonight?”

In one swift motion, he sits up and places me facing him on his lap. I don’t dare look up at his face. I can tell by the way he’s breathing, he’s upset with me. It’s weird how you can spend just a handful of days with someone and pick up on their emotions.  I’ve made a mess of what could be our last night together for the foreseeable future.  

“Are you asking me...do you really think all I’m looking to do is fuck you?” He says gruffly.

I can feel myself trying to become small. My shoulders hunch inward; my back curving as if I need to be in the fetal position. I want to just turn back time and not ask the question.

“No, you don’t get to hide from me. Look at me, Rebekah,” he says gripping my chin. His grip is hard, but I know he’s not trying to hurt me.  When I don’t look into his eyes, he says, “Rebekah Oliver...look at me and answer the question.” His voice has softened slightly.

“I don’t know,” I say looking at him quickly and then back down.

“Fucking hell, woman!” He says pulling me into him. He holds me tight to him for a few minutes.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as a tear drops onto my cheek.

“Remember we said no more roller coaster? I need you to talk to me.” He pulls back from the embrace.  “Why on earth would you think that? I haven’t spent the last week dealing with your bouts of tears, your reaction to my exes or you telling me you hated me for a piece of ass.”

“Why did you spend the last week dealing with my bullshit?” I ask sticking my finger in the hole of his shirt again.

“I did that because from the moment I talked to you in the hotel, I needed to be near you. I needed to know you. I wanted to spend every moment with you,” he answers. “You are why I put up with your ‘bullshit’.  Am I attracted to you? Yes. Do I want you? Hell yes! But, I told you before, this is your call. If you told me right now you wanted me to make love to you, I would. If you told me you wanted me to leave you alone, I’d do it. How you got the idea in your head that I only want sex from you...I don’t know. I don’t like it.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be ready to sleep with you...”

“Tog...that’s okay. If and when you’re ready, you’ll tell me. You had no problem last night telling me what you wanted. You’ll do it again.” He releases my chin to softly stroke my cheek. “Who put this crazy idea into your head? You seemed to enjoy last night. I thought we had a lovely day together today.”

“Cal.”

“Cal?  What?!?!”

“He’s worried we’re not being careful. More specifically me,” I answer twisting the well worn cotton of his shirt around my finger.

“I’m so confused here, Tog.”

“He said you’re ‘ a good egg but not a saint.” I look up as he sighs, rolling his eyes.

“There’s nothing he knows that you don’t. I’ve been with Kendall and Nadine, and not recently.”

“I know that you’re on the road..no pun intended...it has to get lonely...” I lead him with the question. Has he had anyone else service his needs?

“Tog...I don’t know what you’re asking,” he says crinkling his forehead at me. Then it dawns on him. I can see when the light bulb goes from dim to blindingly bright.

“Jesus...you want to know if I’ve gotten any favors from fans?” He laughs but I can’t tell if it’s out of amusement.

I shrug my shoulders, “People have needs...”

“No, Rebekah...I haven’t accepted any sexual favors from anyone.” He rolls his eyes again and sighs. “It’s been me and my hand for a while now.”

I laugh at his candor, “Thanks so much for the information.”

“Honestly, you asked. I told you I’d be honest with you,” he smiles. “What about you?”

The question makes me sit up straight as a board, “What about me?”

“You’re out on assignment...”

“Oh...yeah...Dan Berehulak, and every other photojournalist I work with, have been beating down my door!  No, Harry!! That’s not how it works. You don’t think about that when you’re out there covering a car bombing!”

“So...you take care of yourself then?” He’s very upfront.

“Noooo...” I answer him. I know I’m turning red as a beet because he laughs heartily.

“Tog...it’s nothing to be ashamed of!”

I’m not a prude. I know people masturbate. I just don’t. Never got any pleasure out of it, to be honest.

“I know that. I just...never mind. Can we please change the subject?”

“You just what?” He purrs at me. “Tell me...”

“Please...can we change the subject?” I beg.

“Come on. What’s wrong with talking about this?”

“I don’t. Alright. I don’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“Oh my god, Harry...are we seriously going to discuss that I don’t masturbate?”

“Then how the hell do you get off?!?!” He seems flabbergasted.

“I don’t.”

“Fooking hell.  That’s why you’re so uptight!” He laughs at me.

“Uptight? Where the hell do you get off telling me I’m uptight?” I push off of him. He immediately grabs for my hands. “No, Styles! You don’t get to tell me I’m uptight!”  I back away from him.

He smiles; all dimples and teeth. I bet he thinks it’s gonna work and I’ll let him settle me down.

He stands and stalks toward me; looking like some rock ‘n roll god.  All long hair and swagger.

“That right there...is uptight.”

“Fuck You!”

“Alright,” he smirks. “Let’s go.” He spreads his arms wide as if to say bring it.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!!!”

He continues to follow me around the small area. He laughs at the knock on the door.

“WHAT???” I yell at the door, not taking my eyes off of him.

“Are you alright?”

Cal.

“Go away, Calvin!” Harry laughs.

“Bex? Why are you yelling? Are you alright?” He asks opening the door. “What the hell is going on in here?”

“Hey. We’re all good,” Harry says nonchalantly continuing to move with me.

“Then why does it look like you’re stalking her?” Cal asks with a smirk.

“I am,” the dimpled, skinny jean wearing, asshole laughs.

When I finally get to Cal’s spot in the room, I stand behind him, “Tell him to quit it.”

“Are you okay?”

“No!...he’s just... being annoying,” I say turning Cal so he remains between us.

“Is that all? Alright...carry on!” Cal pats my arm and leaves.

“Fucking traitor!” I yell at the closed door.

“I’ll stop when you tell me why you don’t take care of yourself.”

“I just don’t! That should be enough of an answer for you.” I trip myself up and land on my ass on the floor. He drops to his hands and knees.  He looks like a lion slowly shadowing his prey. How can He crawl seductively too?

Fucking Hell!

“I don’t think I’ve met a woman who doesn’t partake in a little self love,” he says against my lips. I’m pressed against the couch.

Jesus...he’s all soft, raspy voice and oozing sex.

Embarrassed by the fact that I just admitted to not masturbating and the way he is making me feel, I look away.  I watch from the corner of my eye as he lifts his hand. He slowly drags his middle finger from under my chin, down my neck and between my breasts.

“Don’t you like it, Tog?”

I clear my throat, “Like what?”

What are we talking about?

He laughs darkly, “Why don’t you like to pleasure yourself, love?”

Oh...yeah...now I remember.

“It’s not the same,” I whisper as he glides his finger against my skin.

Goddamn it!  How does he do that?!?!!

“What’s not the same?”

“It doesn’t...feel the same..right.”

“As what? When someone else touches you?” He runs his nose against my cheek; his breath fans my neck.

“Jesus...” I whimper, “No...”

“Who was the last person to touch you?” He asks softly in my ear.

“You.”

“No, Tog...who was the last person to do this?” He says as his hand moves down to my core. He taps his fingers against me and my legs clasp tightly around his hand. He laughs gently.

“Mateo.” I hate the word immediately. I hate admitting that HE was the last person to touch me.

“Hmm...” he hums just under my jaw. “Should we change that?”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter as he pulls back.

He sits back and grabs my ankles, pulling me flat on the floor.

Leaning over me, he pecks my lips, “I think we should.”

Before I can protest or even make a sound, he grips the waistband of my pants.

“Arse up,” he says pulling them down.

Being dutifully entranced by him, I lift my butt up off the floor, allowing him to strip them off me. I shyly glance at him as he folds the pants neatly and lays them on the couch. He grabs my right leg roughly and pulls it to the side before wrapping it around his waist.

“Do you want me to touch you, Rebekah?” He asks leaning over me. “Remember, you tell me when to stop.”

I nod as my chest heaves from the panting he’s causing.

“Say it.”

“Yeess...” I whisper huskily. I close my eyes as he flicks his tongue against my top lip. Understanding that he wants my mouth open, obediently I do so. He takes my bottom lip between his before doing the same to my top lip. When his tongue dips in and touches mine briefly, I whimper.

His right hand rubs gently up my leg before making its way to my stomach.  He moves it toward my side and back as he kisses me. Slipping just the tips of his fingers under the waistband of my underwear, he brushes his nails against my abdomen. I squirm from the sensation.

“Easy now,” he says against my lips.

In a rare aggressive move, I lift my head and thrust my tongue into his mouth, wanting him to keep kissing me. He groans. I gently take hold of his wrist and guide his hand further under the material.

“Mmm,” he hums into my mouth. I release his wrist confident that he knows what I want him to do.

“Show me,” he says reaching for my hand.

“Use your instincts, Styles.”

“Ha...” he says and dives right back in.  

He rolls the pads against my clit a few times. Happy with the small whimper I make, he slips one of his fingers down to see how wet I am. He tsks a few times, not happy with what he’s found.  He spreads me open, running his finger in a circle around the small bundle of nerves.

He flicks his finger back and forth until I gasp into his mouth. When he checks again, he moans, “There we go.” He slips his middle finger inside, moving in and out gently. I know which finger it is because the edge of his ring grazes me.

He swallows the small sounds coming out of me. He slips his finger back in and curves it up, tapping gently a few times.

“Shit,” I whisper.

He continues; moving gently back and forth and then tapping a few times.  When my moans get more frequent, he adds a second finger to the mix.  He runs them up my labia, then strokes my clit a few times.  

“Jesus...H...” I pant against his mouth.

“That’s it, Love...”

I moan like a whore when he thrusts both fingers into me.  He picks up the pace; alternating roughly between the in and out and the tapping. He places the palm of his hand against me as he continues.  The pressure is mind blowing.

“H...H....Oh god.”

“Shhh....” he says in my ear. “Come on, Tog. Let go.” He curls his fingers again and gives that sweet spot three quick taps and I’m done for.

“Oh shit...oh...god...Harry!” I yell out. He snickers and covers my mouth with his other hand.

“You’re amazing, Love,” he whispers as I come down.

Gripping his shirt, I pull him on top of me.  He slips his hand from between my legs and wraps his arms around me.

~</3~

An hour later...

“You okay?”

“I’m perfect. Where the hell did you learn to do that?”

“My mom is always looking for new things to learn about. We took a class together when I was in High School.”

“If this photography thing doesn’t work out...you’ve got a new career,” he says looking over his shoulder at me.

“You’re only the second person I’ve given a massage to; I think you’re a bit biased,” I laugh. “Besides, I felt bad. I’m the reason you’re back was spasming.”

I watch as he gets up on knees, zipping his jeans. He smirks at me.

“Shut up!” I toss his t-shirt in his face.

“My eyes are up here, Tog,” he jokes.

“I should have let you lie on the floor in pain.”

“You’d never do that,” he smiles.

Again...all dimples and teeth.

“I wouldn’t?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?” I ask as he pulls me to my feet.

“I’m too good at getting you off.” He gives me a kiss full of promise.

“Well...there is that...” I answer with a kiss of my own.

We spend the next few hours looking through photos on my laptop and joking around with Cal and Dale.  At some point, I fall asleep on his shoulder.

~</3~

“Harry?...Harry...H!” I nudge his arm forcefully.

“What? What’s going on?” He sits up with a start.

“We’re landing soon,” I answer quietly.

“Oh.”

I’ve already loaded my laptop, checked for my passport and changed clothes.

The one thing I haven’t done is come to terms with the fact that I’m leaving him on this plane.

“Come ‘ere.”

I wrap my arms around his torso and hold on for dear life.

“Everything is going to be fine, Tog. I’ll call you as soon as I land in L.A. We’ll figure things out,” he squeezes me gently.

“Okay...”

“Here,” he says reaching for his cell phone. “I’ll send you my schedule. See how it fits with yours.  Either I can come to you or vice a versa.”

“I’d like that. You promise you’ll call when you land?”

“I promise, Rebekah.”

“I like Tog better.”

“I know you do,” he laughs.

“Harry?”

“Tog...”

“Thank you. Despite all the tears, this really has been one of the best weeks of my life.”

“You like me...you really like me,” he jokes in a female voice.

“Sally Fields* is not your forte. Stick to singing,” I say poking him in the stomach.

“Tog, I...”

The pilot interrupts him, “Lady and Gentleman, we’re approaching Boston’s Logan International Airport. Please prepare for landing.”

We both buckle in.  I reach for his hand.

“What were you saying?”

“It’s nothing, Tog,” he answers shaking his head.

“Okay.”  I don’t know what it was he was going to tell me, but decide not to press him on it. He’ll tell me whatever it was when he’s ready.

“I had an amazing week too, Tog.” He lifts our joined hands and kisses the top of mine. “Thank you.”

Once we’re on the ground, Cal and Dale exit under the pretense of retrieving my luggage.

Having a hard time, I gather my carry ons.

“I can’t walk off the plane with you, Tog.”

“I know,” I nod, but wish desperately that he could. “It’s alright.”

He tosses my bags on to the couch behind me. When I protest, he yanks me by the hips toward him.

Between strokes of his tongue, he whispers to me:

“Be careful out on assignment; wear those nasty boots.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

“Take care of yourself.”

“Don’t get off this plane.”

“Come to Los Angeles with me. Please, Tog?”

I start crying when he tells me to not get off the plane. I want so badly to stay with him.

But I can’t.

“I wish I could,” I answer as he wipes the tears from my cheek. He’s crying too.

“I don’t know how I’m going to handle not seeing your face every morning,” he sniffles.

“How did we get this way?” I ask out loud.

“I believe in karma, Tog.”

“Well...I don’t know what I did in a previous life to deserve you.” I lean in and kiss him as if my life depends on it.

“Rebekah, it’s time to go. The car is waiting,” Dale says from the door.

I lean my forehead on Harry’s, “Thank you, Dale.”

“Go on...before I do something that could be deemed illegal in America,” Harry says giving me one more small kiss. “It’s not goodbye. I’ll see you soon, Tog.”

“I’ll see you soon, H,” I run my thumb along his bottom lip. “Remember to thank your mom for these.”

“Baby...you’re perfect,” he laughs. “Go...take care, love.”

“You too, Dimples.”

I practically run down the stairs of the plane.  If I don’t leave now, I won’t. When I reach the bottom, I see a familiar face.

“B...”

“Doc! Help me,” I cry as she wraps her arms around me.

Author note: Yeah, um...well...HA! I don't know about you...but I'm off to change my pants.

Let me know what you think...as always... 

All The Love, Lady H. x