028

        4:32AM

        I fell asleep through most of the flight. We traveled coach, trying to blend in as much as we could in a crowd of people who weren't so effortlessly blending with us.

        Harry wore a black sweatshirt that covered most of his tattoos, his thick curls pushed back into a knit hat. I hid my blonde hair in a black baseball hat we bought at a store in the airport. It felt somewhat more reassuring to find ways to hide my identity around the public. 

        In the plane, Harry had consistently worked on the files while I decided that the tiresome affect of no sleep was really taking over me. He insisted that I didn't have to help him, and being more than okay with that, I decided to sleep the stress off. 

        We arrived into the cooler temperatures of New York. JFK airport in New York City had various people waiting and getting on different flights even at four in the morning. Although I can barely keep my eyes open from the laziness my body carried, I manged somehow. My groggy, tired legs followed Harry as he went to get our luggage. 

        He handled both suitcases on either hands, not allowing me to help because he insisted that his injured arm was fine. I only went along with it because I doubt Harry even payed attention to physical pain. He seemed so effortlessly oblivious to it -- even on purpose. 

        Harry stood outside with my company to his side. He placed the luggage down for a second, nearly about to signal a taxi.

        I have been in New York before, so nothing was much of a surprise anymore. I'm more than pleased that we got away from that house in Brazil, or I would have lost my mind and all the sanity I've managed throughout my years. 

        He pulled out a pair of dark sunglasses, and he raised them to his face. I was watching the people, distracted by the things occurring around when Harry stopped and turned to me. I made brief eye contact with him as well, and my lips parted the second he placed the sunglasses on my face. 

        "You'll need them." Is all he said. 

        And so, in a taxi, I forced myself to stop thinking about our kiss. It meant nothing as of now, but that was maybe to him. I needed to know what was going on inside that complex mind of his, rather than my own that is tiring me with its constant overworking. 

        When he kissed me, I thought maybe he was changing a little. Now those thoughts are entirely different because he seems to show a careless disinterest in me now that it happened. I know he won't talk about it, because if I even so bring it up, I'm the idiot here automatically. 

        I can never win with him. All I knew was while I sat in that taxi with him, our bodies far apart on either sides, I never wanted to be kissed more than I do now.

        "Where are we staying?" I asked him, racking my brain for something to say then let myself grow absolutely miserable inside of my own head. 

        Harry didn't make eye contact with me. He would rather stare out the window and frown with his unnecessary displeasure to everything. 

        "Your father owns a building Zayn and I cornered with security five months ago. It has some of the most modern forms of security out there. Fingerprint scanning across every surface. Facial scanning and sensors on every entrance possible." Harry explains briefly, leaning back into his seat. 

        I sat there not as surprised as I would have been before if I hadn't been so used to these things already. "How long, do you think, until they actually find us again?" 

        "The building was made for hiding. It blocks any transmitting of any kind. So without them being able to get into our calls, any data at all, and since I covered all our tracks from the airport flight, I am almost certain they won't find us as quick."  

        That was the most reassuring news I could get at the moment. I know Harry is brutally honest, and these being his words makes relief soften up the block of terror still lurking in my chest. 

        When we arrived, Harry had handed the old taxi driver his money without a single thank you or a polite gesture. I took off the sunglasses. I gazed at Harry as he opened the car of the taxi, and when he went outside to get our bags from the trunk, I saw the old man getting up as if to help Harry. 

        "It's okay, we got it. Thank you, sir." I tried, lifting the corners of my lips into a smile. 

        He returned the small smile, and my heart kind of sank when I remembered the old man at the concession store. The one that was shot right through his head. I tried not to think about the people I've seen killed, more than half of them because of Harry. 

        "Catalina, out of the car," Harry demanded with slight annoyance, but his tone was for once not dry or cruel. He reached down for my hands and pulled me out of the vehicle. 

        The old man drove away a few seconds afterwards, and I was glad that for once, we were in a car, and someone hadn't been killed before or after. 

        It was something different from the outside. The building had old bricks grown dark and dirty from the years they remained untouched by cleansing. Vines growing onto the walls made the place seem old and decrepit, but in a way pretty. 

        Harry only held the doorknob for a few seconds before the lock audibly clicked and we entered our new hideout, and hopefully our last before this is over. 

        Inside it was dark, the only light being the one from the windows that Harry said were tinted.  My feet creaked onto the brown, wooden floorboards and my eyes examined the dark red walls. There was a stair that lead up to the other two floors in the building, but Harry had stopped me before I went up the stairs. 

        "Don't go up there. They're not actual living floors." He warned, placing a hand on my hip and leading me away from it.

        I frowned upon confusing myself over how they weren't actual floors. "What are they then?"

        "This is one of the buildings in which your father manufactured various illegal equipment. I would suggest not going up there, but I know you. If you do, by all means knock yourself out," Harry lead me towards the end of the hallway, stopping a few feet from the very wall on the other side.

        Harry bent down and I watched as he lifted one of the floorboards off the floor, and once underneath it, I found that there were a few switches in place. Harry flicked one down and I nearly jumped when a section of the wall beside me slid open, revealing a door to another room. 

        I felt my lips part with now actual astonishment. I walked inside quickly after while Harry did the same right behind me, dropping our luggage onto the floor and flicking the lights on. 

        This was just like a large penthouse, but the only difference was it wasn't the top floor of some luxurious building. Although, it was definitely luxurious on its own. Cream-colored marbled floors and the walls painted a soothing soft caramel. The ceiling was so high up and I had to turn my head upwards to see the end of it. 

        The furniture was what I expected. Dark wood and brown cushions. All the tinted windows were pretty large, and they allowed light to flow into the large room.

        In this very area, there was a kitchen, the living room, and off to the side was what I supposed was where Harry would work with the computer, of course with my help.

        "There door on the far left is the bathroom, and to the right is the bedroom." Harry explained as he looked down at a touch-screen pad drilled into the wall, putting numbers on it and the door that slid open closed, looking like a regular wall. 

        He turned and that's when I realized he said bedroom. Not bedrooms as in with an S. Meaning only one, not many. I froze and awkwardly stood there with my fingers laced together before me. Harry didn't pay as much attention to me and picked up the luggage, walking to the door on the right.

        I followed him and saw there was just one bed like I expected. The bedroom was spacious, but not nearly as the main room. 

        Harry dropped the luggage on the bed and began to stretch his injured arm out, frowning deeply and hissing lightly. 

        I only scanned the rest of the room before I said, "You shouldn't have carried all of it by yourself."

        "Well, I did, didn't I?" Harry questioned hotly. 

        With a slight frown, I defended myself. "I did offer to help you, but you refused."

        "Thanks for telling me what I know, Dollface. Highly appreciated." He snapped with a shake of his head, still moving his arm around and sitting on the edge of the bed.

        I rolled my eyes while he wasn't looking, but even then he sharply remarked, "Don't roll your eyes at me." 

        "How do you even see everything? You weren't looking at me." I stated. 

        "I just do." He replied dryly.

        +

        6:09AM

       We ended up making food and eating it with a spare of few arguments. It surprised me because we hadn't found the energy to argue with one another just like we always did. But as usual, I spoke too soon. I'm half way through dinner when Harry hisses, "Fuck." 

        I peered up at him and found him lightly pressing the wrapped area of his injured arm. I raised my eyebrows and warned him, "Don't touch it." 

        "Shut up," he spat.

        "Okay, you little baby. Cry about it." I whispered to myself, standing and walking to the sink to rinse my plate. Just as I turned the sink on, Harry had placed his plate into the sink.

        Not without saying something back, however. "Don't call me a baby, or I'll prove to you I'm not even close to one." He said lowly, standing next to me. I could feel his eyes watching me. 

        "What is with you and seeing, hearing everything?" I sighed heavily.

        While the kitchen turned out to be a court house with arguments, we both tried to get to the bedroom before one another. I got there first, only to be told that Harry will not spare his back on a couch because I'm too prude to sleep on the same bed as him. 

        "I don't have a problem sleeping in the same bed as you, so get over it." I told him calmly. We made eye contact while he sat at the edge of the bed, similar to previously when he started moving his arm around in pain. Soon, he was doing the same thing again.

         Harry began hissing again when he moved his arm at an odd angle. I finally had enough of his hissing, and I said, "Let me see the wound, Harry." 

        He shook his head. "It's fine. It's just sore." 

        "Yeah, but I have to clean it again and change the bandage wrap." I informed him, already searching for my luggage to get the bandage I needed. I heard him groan in irritation, only because I'm trying to take care of him, and he likes to refuse almost any kind of hospitality. 

      Eventually, I found the disinfectant in the bathroom. It seems as if my father always stacks up on those things for very detailed reasons. I don't know how he does it, but he's always prepared for plan B. 

        I returned to the bedroom and Harry was lying down on his back, still moving his arm. 

        "Stop moving it and don't touch it." I demanded, kneeling next to him on the bed. I turned my body to his as he lied there. He then sat up, already looking upset for absolutely no reason.

         I started to unwrap the bandage, frowning as I saw how red the area was. No puss was coming out, so I'm aware it isn't infected. It's only sore. 

        "Well it's not infected." I said quietly. "But it looks like it hurts a lot." 

        Harry gazed at me with sarcasm written all over his face. I stopped him before he made some witty remark, glaring directly into his eyes. We stared at each other a couple of more seconds before he cocked his head to the side and clenched his jaw. Immediately, I thought of his kiss. I tortured myself with the thought of his lips and became evidently flustered. 

        I returned to the wound and began to clean it with the disinfecting wipe. I touched a sensitive area and he grimaced. I squeaked out a soft "sorry" and continued to wipe it clean. As I was finishing the disinfecting part, a strand of my hair fell to the front of my face. 

        My body grew hot when Harry used his good arm to extend a hand and stroked the piece of hair behind my ear. I somehow knew he was well aware of what he was doing to me. I could feel my hands start to shake, but I inhaled and ignored the burning sensation of his gaze. 

        "Try not to sleep on that arm," I told him as I started wrapping the bandage around his strong, muscular arm. 

        He didn't make any comments and I was more intimidated by his silence than I would have been if he had spoken. I began to pick up the bandage wrap and the disinfecting alcohol, placing them on a dresser that was probably still empty. 

        I was tired and all I wanted to do was sleep. But besides being tired, I was frustrated. Whether he was aware or not, Harry was strongly playing with my emotions. I'm leaning to the side that he hides his own emotions so well, he's so good at seeing mine. 

        "Catalina," he called.

        I turned around from the dresser and found that he was already walking towards me. His hands found my hips first as he pulled me into him, his head ducking down to allow our mouths to lock in a kiss. My cheeks flushed and my eyes closed. I felt so meek and unassertive. I felt like the emotional seventeen year-old I am and being kissed by a man like Harry made those emotions wild.

        My hands found his chest, my bare feet nearly stepping onto his shoes from our close distance. I moved my lips with his, trying to savor the feeling of his touch. He deepened the kiss as his hands found my lower back. His finger tips pressed against the fabric of my shirt, his kiss gradually becoming hard and dominant. 

        But as we pulled away for breath, we shared only a gentle peck after. I inhaled deeply and let my eyes flutter open. He was already looking down at me, our eye contact causing my heart to leap to my throat as I saw the darkening pale green in his eyes. 

        "Thank you," he murmured in a rasp. 

        "You're welcome," I replied quietly. 

        note// what did you guys think? gradually moving into giving this plot romance like a lot of you guys asked for. just remember there will be a lot of sexy gun shooting from harry and lot's of violence as well. 

        and also, i have this story in my drafts called 1996, and I'm well aware until i finish a majority of my stories, i can't post any more. but if any of ya'll interested on what it's about, i'll be happy to tell you (: