Harry & Catalina's paths align as they make their own individual journey of healing. Both grieving the loss of parents, they travel to fulfill the dream road trip their parents never got to have.
The final destination, Italy.
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📍 Brussels — 2020
I woke the next morning to Harry soft breathing hitting the top of my head, the warmth of it causing chills down my spine. I stirred slightly, peeking up at him, the stubble on his chin, his chestnut curls falling onto his forehead. I bit at my lower lip, thoughts of last night finding space in every bit of my mind. I pushed off of him gently, getting up from the bed and finding his dress shirt and my underwear, slipping them on my body.
I moved to my small shoulder bag, pulling out my sketchbook and pencil, moving gently back on the bed so that I didn't wake Harry up. Sitting up against the headboard, knees bent slightly, I opened up my sketchbook to a clean page, I carefully ran my tongue over the tip of my pencil. My eyes moved over Harry. He had become my secret muse, his perfections flowing out of my pencil each time. His chestnut curls seem to take over my imagination, as I lightly outlined the top of his head. I slowly began to add in his curls, resting on his forehead, curling in directions they pleased. Not listening to the way anyone wanted them to set. Harry longed to be like his curls ironically. Moving against the grain and though I felt like he often did, I wasn't fully sure he was aware of it.
Licking my lip, I added bits of shading, knowing I probably would never paint over this, I wanted to add life to it. As I did, I pictured my fingers getting lost in his hair, in each strand, each curl twisting around my finger. He began stirring as I drew, turning flat on his back with a groan, rubbing at his face, pushing his curls out of their perfect place. I pouted, his long lashes fluttering to reveal his perfect aquamarine eyes.
"Mmm, morning Catalina," he smiled lazily, his dimples barely there.
"Morning, pop star," I licked my lip, shading in the final two curls I had left.
"What are you drawing there?" He asked, rolling on his side, his finger reaching overing and skimming over my leg softly.
"Mmm, just some twists and turns, that's all," I smiled, closing my lips into a tight smile.
"Mmm, feels secretive," he raised an eyebrow, slipping his hand into the bend of my knee, pulling me towards him. I squealed, giggling softly. He tried reaching for my book, my arm shooting out and away from him as he tickled my sides trying to achieve his goal.
"Harry, stop," I giggled, throwing my book and pencil far from the bed, his eyes narrowing at me.
"That's cheating, Lina!" He exclaimed, his forehead pushing into mine as my giggles calmed themselves.
"Cheating or just witty?" I challenged, his arms wrapping around my waist and pulling me on top of him. His hands traveled over my hips, and over my ass, squeezing softly.
"Mmm, I guess a little of both," he said, his eyes searching my face before leaning in and kissing me gently. I could feel his hesitation, almost as if making sure yesterday actually happened. I let my hands find his curls, my tongue tracing his lower lip, asking for permission to find his. He smiled, letting my tongue skim along his, letting it twist around his taste.
