❝Calm your tits, man. You got your fucking dark roast latte with an extra shot of fuckboy all over my arm!❞
During an evening in May, Tasha Aquino finally acquires her chance at an adventure. However, it comes at a deadly price and her seemingly un...
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twenty-eight ◌ linger
✗
I didn't remember falling asleep.
Fatigue, I concluded, enveloped me like a warm blanket, and before I could even think about knocking out, my body automatically did it for me. So when a steady stream of sunlight danced its way through the glass window and caressed my face, I woke from my slumber slightly confused. My eyes adjusted to the brightness of the room, as my ears picked up on the soft rustling from behind me.
Groggily, I stretched out my arms and legs beneath the sheets and turned onto my back. I yawned, sat up in the bed, and assessed my surroundings. The stirring I heard earlier, came from a mix of objects I found Harry to be examining.
"Liam's gone," Harry announced, sensing my awaken state. His focus latched onto whatever rested atop the desk, and hadn't once turned over his shoulder to look at me.
"What do you mean, he's 'gone'?" The raspiness of my morning voice caused me to wince.
"He left," Harry shrugged, answering my question with an easy response. "He took ANTI's plea deal."
"But when? We didn't even see Liam since he received that call," I urgently pointed out.
I threw the covers off to the side, and slid out of bed. I quickly made my way over to Harry and latched my eyes onto the various objects on the table top. A black, leather wallet, a cell phone, a laptop, and an external hard drive all were neatly displayed on the desk.
"When did he come back to the hotel? And why did he leave the most important items here?" I pondered out loud.
"He obviously doesn't want to be followed," Harry justified, his cheeks puffing out as he blew out a steady stream of hot air.
"Wherever ANTI is, Liam is, and he can't be tracked. That's so fucking frustrating," I concurred, picking up the wallet to inspect. Worn out, but still sturdy enough to do its job, the simple pocketbook didn't have much in it. A couple of credit cards, Liam's ID, and fifty dollars in cash were the only items inside.
"At least this wasn't unexpected," Harry spoke. "It sucks, but he has his family to think about."
"Now what? We can't stay in Toulouse long, we just lost Liam with no way to contact him, and who knows if Zayn will even contact me like he said," I expressed. "Time's running out and I don't know what to do."
"Let's stick around one more day. Do some research, I'll go through this hard drive and laptop," Harry paused to gesture at the specific electronic devices. "Lets come up with a tentative plan, buy some plane tickets, and tomorrow morning at the earliest, we'll leave Toulouse."
And that's what we did.
Harry and I kept to ourselves in the hotel room. It was like I was reliving the start of this mission— how we'd each take a corner of a hotel room, or a living space and fully delve into our specialized tasks. We barely spoke to one another, and the only time we did, was when Harry left around 1PM to grab some food.
