Passports in Footwells (Haylor)

3rd January 2013 - Taylor

Maple syrup?" Harry offers with a smile, holding out the small jug to Taylor.

"Thanks," Taylor says quietly, taking it from him and pouring a small dollop onto her pancakes.

They're sat on the deck of the yacht having had breakfast - well, brunch at this time - brought out to them. Taylor didn't fancy making their way to the island this morning. She tries to tell herself it has nothing to do with the risk of running into a certain girl who likes to shove her tits in her boyfriend's face, but she's not quite successful.

Still, it's been a nice morning. Waking up in Harry's arms is always a nice feeling and one she doesn't get to experience often enough. She'd felt a little guilty when he'd got up to go to the bathroom and she'd seen the state of his body, littered with the bruises and scratches that she'd covered him with, until she'd stretched out and felt a particularly tender spot underneath her boob which on further investigation, turned out to be the biggest hickey in the history of hickeys. She felt much less guilty after that.

They'd spent most of the morning kissing, cuddling and snoozing, too tired and sore from the night before to do much else, until eventually Harry's stomach had protested its neglect and he'd ordered them food, wrapped them both in robes and marched her onto the deck.

"So, did you have anything in particular you wanted to do today?" Taylor asks.

"Nope, nothing in particular," Harry replies. "Go for a walk? Maybe head back to that private beach? Honestly, I'd be happy just to get you back in that hot tub again though," he says, waggling his eyes suggestively and she smiles back. "As long as I get to spend some quality time with my girl, I'm good."

Like we were supposed to last night? Taylor thinks.

"Smooth talker," she says, and it comes out with a little more bite than she intends.

Harry's smile falters slightly. "So what do you want to do?" he asks.

"A walk sounds nice," she says. "Not a long one though, I'm kinda beat. Maybe we could grab an early dinner after and then come back here for an evening in the hot tub."

"Oh. Okay." Harry says, looking slightly disappointed.

"What?" Taylor says, frowning.

"Oh no, nothing it's fine."

"No, go on, what are you thinking?"

"No, it's nothing." He pauses for a moment, sipping his coffee before continuing. "It's just that, well, Francesca did mention that party later on, is all. And it did sound fun. But it's fine, if you're tired. There will be other parties." He flashes his dimples briefly at her before shoving the rest of his pancakes into his mouth all in one go.

Taylor starts to feel a chill despite the warm midday sun beating down and the soft robe cocooning her.

"I thought you just said you wanted to spend quality time with me?" she asks, fighting to keep the accusation out of her voice.

"I do!" he insists, swallowing the last of his pancakes. "I just thought it would be nice to go together. We can spend quality time together and still see other people."

He's not wrong, technically. But Taylor is so damn sick of constantly having to share him all the time. And she hadn't particularly liked those girls. She'd made every effort to make conversation with them, but they'd only really seemed interested in talking to Harry. She isn't keen on the idea of spending another evening watching them swoon over him while she just sits there like a gooseberry.

"I suppose. I just...I just really want to make sure we make the most of the time we have together before we're both back on the road," she says quietly, absent-mindedly pushing her pancakes around her plate.