When In Cuba H.S.

I sat on El Malecón feeling the breeze running through my hair.

"¿Una pregunta? Estoy buscando-"

"Lo siento, Soy de Los Estados Unidos."

"Oh sorry, it's nice to see a fellow tourist." He was British.

I continued to stare out at the water, inhaling deeply. The sound of someone clearing their throat broke my peace once again. I really didn't know why he was still standing here. It was mildly uncomfortable but he didn't sound scary. If I had the confidence to look at him he may look it though.

"I'm Harry by the way."

All I could offer was a small hum of acknowledgement. I had hoped that a lack of response would signal that I didn't want to be bothered.

"How long are you here for...?" Apparently it didn't. The pause at the end of his sentence told me he was waiting for something.

"Lina, a month." I finally managed a glance in his direction. He didn't look scary in the traditional sense. He was very attractive, something I found equally as scary. I paused, first deciding if I should ask him back, then working up the courage to do so. Those sorts of things have always been hard for me.

He quirked a smile, "A month, me too. So, what brings you here?"

His dimples popped and I could barely see a sliver of his bright whites. I have always had a thing for dimples. And nice eyes. His were a brilliant green. The more I studied his face, the more I noticed. He had freckles. Only a few. They weren't a very prominent feature but, he was rather close so I couldn't help it.

"Lina was it?" He chuckled at my dazed features.

I had zoned out. I wasn't surprised, focus isn't really my strongsuit. Those sorts of things were always hard for me. "Oh um, what? Sorry, yes. Lina. Wait, what did you say before?"

He smiled again, "Don't worry about it, I have a feeling that I will find out soon enough."