Cherry Bomb [h.s]

5

The incessant ringing of my alarm draws me out of my sleep, much to my chagrin. Why must people begin the day this early? Don't they know that vampires need their sleep, too?

I groan and roll over to turn off my alarm, then roll back onto my back, flinging my arm onto the pillow next to me.

This pillow feels different, though.

And did it make a crinkling noise?

I quickly rub the sleep out of my eyes with one hand and prop myself on my side with the other. I furrow my brows as I search for the discrepancy.

There's a folded up piece of paper sitting on the empty pillow, now slightly crumpled from my arm.

I don't even think twice before I grab the paper and unfold it.

A keycard is taped on the inside, and above it is handwriting.

You may want to protect your belongings a little better, sunshine
You never know whose hands they may end up in
- H

I instantly snatch the keycard off the paper and check the number written on the back.

#451

My suspicions only heightened, I fumble in my pocket for the little envelope that I had been given.

There's only one card.

Oh for fucks sake.

That motherfucker really stole my key and got into my room.

If he thinks this scares me, he's right. But I'm never going to let him know that.

It's not my favorite thing in the world that he had access to my hotel room, or that he was able to sneak in and leave a note while I was sleeping. I have no doubt that he's capable of much more, but it's not like he's going to murder me, right?

I'm honestly impressed as to how he was able to pickpocket me without me ever noticing. I guess I had been distracted, but that card was tightly packed in a little envelope which was stuffed into those shitty excuses for pockets they always put on girl jeans. And they were the front pockets, too. I mean, the fact he was able to even get into the pocket itself is a feat.

But he's not the only one with a trick up their sleeve.

With a sudden burst of energy, I shoot out of the bed and find some clothes to change into. I throw on a simple short black cotton dress and my Docs, then brush through my hair with my fingers.

I check the clock and smile to myself. I should have plenty of time.

And luckily, I know exactly where Harry's room is.

●

I'm glad Harry's a deep sleeper, because I definitely wasn't as quiet as I could have been while working my way into his room.

Harry's room is exactly like mine, pristine, white, and fluffy. I almost flip the light switch on, but catch myself. I don't want to risk it.

There's a sound of rustling in the room as Harry's covered form shifts in the bed. I pause for a second, staying close to the door so I can bolt if he's awake. But it stays quiet.

I tiptoe further into the room cautiously, taking shallow breaths. It looks like he slept with his TV on, too. Some old black and white movie is playing, one filled with drama and suspense.

I notice that the top of his mini fridge is empty. I guess he asked the hotel staff to remove all the bottles since he doesn't drink.

I make my way over to the bed, where Harry is sleeping. He lays on his stomach, his arms supporting his head underneath the pillow. A few strands of hair have fallen in his face, framing his sharp features. He looks less intimidating when asleep. His brows are relaxed, and his lips are slightly parted. He lets out a soft breath every few seconds, like a melodic metronome.