Stranded [harry styles] ✓

20

"There's my favourite niece!"

My head snaps up to the voice of my aunt. There's a straw hooked over her lip, the end of it submerged in a tall glass of something pink with a passion fruit slice floating on the surface. She's in a black, string bikini and a pair of fluffy sliders.

"Jules!" I throw myself at her, knocking the drink from her grasp so that it goes tumbling into the sand beneath our feet. It feels like I haven't seen her in days and yet here she is, living life without a care in the world.

"I hope you're going to get me another one of those." She says pointedly and I blush. "I wondered where you'd gotten to."

Where had I gotten to?

Why does it feel like we've been apart for so long?

"Not to worry though!" She claps her hands together, so loudly that I jump. "You're here now." 

I'm smiling but I can't shake the confusion as to where it is that I've 'been'. 

"And just a heads up." Jules adds in a more sombre tone. "Apparently there's a dead body in the water." 

My eyes widen instantly. A dead body in the sea? Right here on the beach? 

I turn away from her - towards the water - where a cluster of people are thigh deep and peering down at something. 

And I just can't help myself. 

My feet take off from the sand as I hurtle towards them, elbows out ready to fight my way through them. I can hear Jules calling my name but I can't stop; not even for the shower of water attacking my face each time I hit the water. Arms are thrown aside as I tear through the crowd and into the opening where I can confirm that there is most definitely a body floating on the surface. 

The face is pale with wide, staring eyes focused on the sky overhead and it doesn't take long before I realise who it is. 

Because - of course - who else could it possibly be? 

It's Harry. 

I launch upright into a stiff sitting position; heart racing and audible pants falling from my lips. My hair is plastered to my face with an adhesive of sweat and Harry's sweatshirt is clinging to me like a second skin. 

What the hell was that?  

I'm quite tempted to rank it as the worst dream - or nightmare -  I've had yet. But then again, when was the last one? It feels like ages since Jules and I watched a plane plummet into the sea in a cloud of smoke and I know it's because of Harry. For the last three nights since things got heated, we've clung onto one another at night as though our lives have depended on it. 

And we definitely fell asleep in the same way last night...so what happened?

I turn to face Harry's sleeping quarters. His towels are rumpled and evidently slept on but he's nowhere to be seen. There hasn't been a morning in the last few days where he hasn't been in my face; prodding and poking me awake or even just open mouthed and drooling into the the crook of his arm. But this morning is different. Last night was different. 

It's not the first time I've woken up without him and I know that really, the anxiety I'm feeling is somewhat irrational, but I just can't ignore the nagging feeling that something is wrong. I squint down the beach where only the remains of our last fire exist as any real evidence that we've been here at all. There are no yellow shorts or mauve hats or crazy spear-throwing cavemen. There's no Harry.