Twist Of Fate

Forty Six

CHLOE

Crammed into Harry's single bed, we spend most of the night alternating between dozing, kissing and making love. I lose count of how many times he slips inside me, his fingers grazing my skin, his lips soft and wet against mine. Three, four, five, maybe? Sometimes it feels as though I am dreaming, barely awake but barely asleep, my hands exploring his body and my skin prickling each time I hear him moan in pleasure, rejoicing that I am the one making him feel this way. 

Dawn is breaking as we finally give in to sleep, our legs entwined, our bodies spent. It seems like only minutes after this that I feel Harry shift beside me, but a quick glance at my watch tells me it is almost nine o'clock. I roll over towards him to see him on his side, his head resting on the crook of his arm, watching me. 

"Hi," I smile, tentatively.

"Hi," he smiles back, with the same hesitance, and a hint of shyness. "Good night's sleep?" 

I feel my cheeks blush crimson as my mouth pulls into a stupid, embarrassed grin. "Not exactly."

He grins back, also stupidly. "Yeah, me neither." 

My heart is hammering in my chest, and I feel lightheaded. We lie in silence for a minute, and I try to quell my rising giddiness at this new and unexpected good mood. 

"Suppose I'd better get in the shower, then." He pushes the covers back and sits up in bed, giving me a lovely view of his bare torso that I hadn't properly been able to appreciate last night, thanks to the darkness. He turns to look back at me and catches me admiring him, his mouth tugging up at the corners into a cocky smirk. He hesitates for a second, and then twists around to lean over me, kissing me softly on the lips before hauling himself out of bed and into the bathroom. 

Once I can hear he is safely under the shower head, I pull his pillow over my face and scream into it, kicking my legs furiously under the covers, letting out my excitement. I don't know how we have arrived at this new level, and the rational part of my subconscious reminds me that we can just as easily return to "normal", such is his volatility. But for now I am going to let myself enjoy being the one on the receiving end of Harry's suggestive and knowing smile.

I slide out of bed and begin carefully collecting the last of my clothes that have been strewn around the room for the past two days, drying out after the downpour by the golf course. I fold each item neatly, packing them carefully into the main section of my rucksack, and select a pair of shorts and a tshirt to wear today. We haven't made plans yet but I know Harry is keen for us to leave the area as soon as possible. For the first time since we got here, the idea of leaving my childhood home doesn't feel quite so daunting. While the shower is still running I pull out my trusty atlas and begin examining potential destinations and possible routes. 

Harry says nothing when he exits the bathroom, so I dart in and take a hurried shower, collecting my toiletries on my way out and adding them to my bag. He stuffs something back into his wallet as I re-enter the room, shoving the whole thing into the back pocket of his khaki shorts and getting to his feet.

"I've been checking out where we can go next," I begin, zipping my rucksack shut. "Any long distance travel is going to require getting into a main town or city for a decent train link, or if you want to take the back roads again and keep off CCTV we need to be prepared for a lot of walking."

Harry pulls a face and sits back down on the bed. I say nothing and wait for him to gather his thoughts before he answers. "To be honest, neither of those appeal to me today. I'm too fucking knackered to be on high alert, and I'm too fucking knackered to be walking any further than to the nearest pub."