Love in Photographs

8. Pillow Sea Thing

I look around and recognize the hotel room. It's Harry's. Oddly, the pillow sea is no longer there and the wine and popcorn are gone, no remnants to be found. I'm standing in the doorway to the bedroom, and when I look down, I can see I'm wearing some black lacy baby-doll type of lingerie and a lacy pair of underwear.

What the hell? I don't wear stuff like... this.

"Rhiannon? Babe?" I hear Harry, and I turn around immediately.

Babe? What?

He's in nothing but a pair of jogging bottoms, and I can tell he has nothing on underneath. He saunters over to me, slowly, and wraps his arms around me.

Okay. I'll go with it.

"Kiss me." I demand, and he does, holding absolutely nothing back. His hands travel all over my body, and I can feel him pressing into me... there.

Oh.

He picks me up and I wrap my legs around his torso, pushing myself into him as much as possible. He kisses my neck and I moan.

"Say my name, baby." He whispers, and I comply.

Baby. I could get used to this.

"Harry," I moan. "More."

His hands travel to my ass and I moan again.

"Harry," I mewl, feeling so close to the edge.

"Wake up." He says, and I look at him questioningly.

His face starts to blur. What in the...

"Wake up." He says again.

"Rhiannon, wake up." I hear, and I open my eyes.

Shit. I'm still on the pile of pillows, my body covered by a blanket, and Harry is beside me, looking straight at me, a small smirk on his face. I suddenly feel extremely angry, frustrated, and confused. All at once.

"You were dreaming." He says, slightly amused. I take my eyes off him immediately, mentally kicking myself.

"I know." I say lowly, embarrassed. I turn my back to him and lay down.

"Hey..." he says, placing his hand on my arm. "It's fine."

"Yeah, I know. Goodnight." I say, a little too harshly.

"What's wrong?" He asks, genuinely concerned.

I can't take this. I need... I don't know what I need, well, I kind've know what I need, but I don't know anything about it. But I need it.

"You know, I should probably go back to my room." I say, raising my body up swiftly.

"Rhiannon," He laughs gently, grabbing my arm. "Would you please tell me what's wrong? I mean, the dream sounded... like a nice one. Why are you angry?"

"Because it was a dream!" I snap, feeling a tear threaten to spill. God! Why am I so angry? And why the hell are my tear ducts attached to my anger?

"What? Rhiannon, I-" He begins, but I stop him.

"Listen, I get that you don't want to do anything with me, but I can't seem to get you off my mind. I know it's ridiculous, and I know I'm new to this, but I don't like feeling so out of control. If it's just going to be me feeling so... frustrated all the time..." I say, voice full of frustration.

"I don't want to do anything with you?" He asks rhetorically, and rather loudly. I almost flinch.

"That's what you said..." I say, less harsh than I wanted to sound.