Wake Me Up

Chapter Five: Can I have a Corona?

(A/N: okay, I know things have been quite slow, and you're probably wondering "When the hell is this story going to pick up?!" Well, the answer is hopefully now. Within these next few chapters, which I hope you'll love, I've introduced a few more characters, and boy... I think you'll like them! Alright, that's all for now, folks! Read on!

-Scar)

~~~

The concept of sleep was out of the question as Holland snorted and howled in her sleep with every breath she took. I tossed and turned, trying to get the slightest wisp of rest, but that obviously wasn't going to happen.

I scoffed, sitting up and pulling the comforter around me, flipping on the lamp and picking up the remote. I turned on the TV, not surprised when all I found was spanish soap opras I couldn't understand, I mean, it was midnight. What else was there to have on?

I sighed, rolling out of bed and crawling towards my suitcase. Might as well tour the town when I knew Holland wouldn't be awake to ruin the night. I opened my bag, slipping out a dress I'd gotten for my birthday, though never actually got to wearing. It was a cute one, in my opinion, because it was so plain. It's all I need- I don't need to look like I'm trying too hard, because all I'm doing is taking a look around.

I ran a hand through my hair, deciding I looked presentable as I pulled the dress on, slipping the straps over my shoulders. Grabbing my things, I smiled, before walking out of the room, shutting the door behind me.

"Tonight's going to be fun."

~~~

"What'll it be?" The bartender asked, drying a bottle with a towel. His accent cut through the almost silent bar, his smirk ever present as the male next to me, a beanie covering his small, chocolate ringlets of hair hunched his shoulders and sniffled quietly. A woman in the corner stumbled on her way out of the bar, followed by an older man. It pained me to think where they were going, but I couldn't help but notice the tan line on the fourth finger on his left hand.

Disgusting.

"I'll just have a water, thanks." I replied, shifting on my stool uncomfortably. I should have known I would have choked; that I wouldn't have been too nervous to actually walk into a bar filled with drunk people who seemed to think getting touchy and feely was fun. The guy next to me chuckled bitterly, not looking up at me as he spoke cruel words.

"Water? What are you? 16?" He asked, his accent different from that of the bartender's. I frowned, shaking my head.

"Not in the mood tonight," I stated, standing up and waving off the bartender's hand. I saw the male's eyes soften as he stood up grabbing my wrist to stop me.

"I'm sorry." He apologized quietly. "I just- I haven't been around... People in a while. I've acquired the traits of an... Arse, to be honest." I nodded, pulling my wrist from his grasp.

"It's uh... It's fine. Don't worry about it." I replied softly, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear as he walked back to his seat, motioning for me to follow. I nodded, taking a seat beside him and retrieving my drink from the generous bartender. Once I looked back at the male, I noticed he had a growing smile, his red-tinged eyes, not as sad anymore.

"What's your name?" He asked, taking another swig from his drink.

"Cara," I replied, taking a sip from my water. "And yourself?"

"I'm Harry," he hesitated, fidgeting with his fingers. "So, Cara, what brings you here, to Spain?" He asked, pulling the cap off his head and ruffling his hair, brisking his small curls off to the side of his head. He smiled a dimpled smile, leaning against the bar, using his elbow to prop his head up.