Soulmates, sunflowers, hot air balloons, ballet, wildfire and music.
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EXCERPT:
"Why do you always call me sunflower?" She looks as though she's desperate for the answer, staring into my soul with so much sincerity in her words.
I smile to mysel...
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"Don't you just love hotel rooms." I throw my body back onto the king size mattress, allowing the white comforter to engulf my body.
I bounce slightly from the impact, my hair fanning around me and my arms spread out as wide as they can reach.
The blankets already are a mess now because I just couldn't resist falling onto it as soon as I saw how crisp and fresh and clean the sheets looked.
Harry's tall frame walks further into the hotel room until he reaches the end of the bed where my knees are bent over so my feet dangle slightly above the floor.
His large hands splay across my thighs, rubbing them and teasing my dress up slightly.
"I love hotel rooms. Don't you?" I reiterate my question, pushing up on my hands so I'm facing him.
My hair falls in front of my face and I try and blow it out of the way but it just keeps falling in more annoying spots.
"Yea. I like hotel rooms. I prefer to be at home though." He smiles at me, still massaging my thighs with his hands and it's the most mouth watering sight. It sends shivers through me, especially from the slight coolness his rings add.
It's a euphoric feeling and sparks electricity in my blood.
"Why's that H?" I question, my eyebrows pulling together slightly.
Going on vacation, or trips or anything like that wasn't something we did much growing up.
We mostly stayed home, occasionally would do a long weekend somewhere. We've been to Florida a few times, and we've done Disney World when I was little.
The most significant vacation was when me, Es and our moms all went to England. But other than that, it's pretty much something I've hardly ever experienced.
And for that reason I feel all the more excited, acting like a child, squealing and running around.
"Spent the last eight years travelling the world. One hotel room after the next. I lived for the days I could sleep in my own bed, having mom downstairs cooking a roast dinner while I slept in on a Sunday because I was up all night Saturday talking to my mates." He explains, taking a seat besides me, still keeping one hand on my thigh that was furthest away from him so he was reaching across me.
"Makes sense." I don't know how to respond to that. I don't want him to not enjoy our time here. And I surely don't want to be the reason he doesn't have a good time.
I feel almost bad that I love it so much when he doesn't enjoy these types of experiences in the same way I do.
My whole life I dreamed of getting out of my town, moving somewhere bigger. Travelling the world.
And New York was a massive step for me, both mentally and physically. I was terrified and I would never have been able to do it, if it wasn't for Esme holding my hand the entire time.
