Day 1

The Kiss

It's my parents' second big day. Why? I have absolutely no clue. For some reason they decided to split up and get married again within the blink of an eye. How long exactly? I don't know either. In fact, I don't know a lot at the moment. All I know is that I might as well be dreaming. That, and the fact that I'm supposed to be my dad's best man in twelve hours.

So what's my name? Well, let's just say you can call me Benjamin. I'm born and raised in Canada, even though you probably wouldn't be able to tell with my die-hard American accent. I live in Vancouver, but for some reason I'm currently residing in a shacky, little town in Louisiana. Why? Just add that to the long list of reasons why my parents are crazy.

I run my fingers through my hair, my blue eyes tiredly gazing at my reflection. I just got it cut yesterday, but blonde highlights are already peeking through my short dark hair. I'm still in my PJ's, though I'm supposed to be wearing a pink shirt and tie for the wedding.

I put my glasses on and turn towards the window. It's still raining outside. It have been doing it for days now, making it hard to do anything around here especially sleep. The TV flickers on in the background, the soundtrack of the news beaming through the speakers.

"And we interrupt with a short warning," The meteorologist announces. "A storm is coming our way." Not news, they posted the warning yesterday. "According to our recent calculations," Recent? I hope so. "The storm will be hitting this afternoon with wind speeds up to 58 m/pr.h."

My finger hits the red circle and the screen goes black. I guess this is what happens when you decide to go halfway across the continent just to get married.

I glance over my shoulder, 6.30. For the fist time in my life I regret getting up early. I have nothing to do, the internet's out, and since they're going to interrupt every broadcast with the popular show, Storm Watch, the TV's definitely out of the question. So I head out into the hallway.

Out in the hallway it's silent. Nothing's in sight besides the mockery of pictures showing me the place I've been living for the past couple weeks. A place full of beaches, sunshine, and occasionally girls in tight shorts who've never known the true meaning of the word winter. In other words paradise. But apparently even paradise has its limits.

"Hey! Watch out!" Someone yells, way too late from the other end of the hallway. I turn just in time to see a heavy laundry cart barreling towards me, throwing me face-first into the driver. We roll around, crushing through a sea of towels.

"What the-" A hand covers my mouth. The cart's still rolling.

"Just stay calm, okay?" The guy next to me says. I bite his hand. "Feisty, I like it."

Before I'm able to protest the cart hurls itself against the wall, tossing us overboard. We land beside it, towels raining from the ceiling. For some reason none of us can stop laughing.

"What in the world's going on?" Another guy, probably the one who yelled, comes towards us. He has brown hair, sticking up over his head and his eye are gleaming mischievously. His accent is undoubtedly British.

"Sorry, Louis," The guy next to me says, grinning. "I just didn't feel like getting up after the attack."

"Attack?" I exclaim. "You ran into me with a 200 pound iron cart."

"Hey," He protests, and I notice he's British too. "At least you landed on something soft. Me."

I blush. He studies me for a moment, his long curly hair almost covering his eyes.

"Don't do that, Curly," Louis slams him with a towel. "You're making him uncomfortable."

"I'm going to make you uncomfortable, Boo bear," The guy teases.

"Oh, grow up," Louis rolls his eyes, reaching for my hand. I'm about to grab it, when a towel suddenly wraps around his ankle. "Don't you dare."

"Too late," The guy drags Louis to the ground. "He's mine."

He gets up and walks towards me, "I'm Harold."

"Benjamin," I reply, grabbing his hand. He pulls me up while Louis rolls on the floor laughing.

"Harold?" Louis's eyes are close to tears. "Oh, come on."

"I can be Harold if I want to," Harold says before turning towards me. "By the way, sorry for driving into you. Louis is a really bad pusher."

"I'm not," Louis gets up to face him. "You're a really bad driver."

"Says a guy from Doncaster," Harold mumbles, making Louis tie him up from behind.

"Take it back," When he doesn't give in, Louis turns towards me. "Now, Benjamin, why don't you get up in that cart?"

"Why?" I stare suspiciously at him.

"So I can prove that Harry here is a buttonhead."

"I'm not," Harry protests.

"Yes, you are."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Ye-"

"You know," I start backing away. "Maybe you two should figure this out and get back to me."

"Just get in the cart," Louis repeats.

"No."

"Get in the cart."

"No."

"Get. In. The cart."

Louis comes towards me. Harry winks.

"What in-" Louis starts, but before he's able to finish Harry has thrown him onto the floor. He climbs his back triumphantly.

"MMM!" Louis shrieks through the towel now placed over his mouth.

"Sorry, can't understand you," Harry apologizes, grinning widely. "I would run if I were you."

"Yeah," I admit. "Sounds good."

I'm about to leave when Harry stops me.

"Hey, are you not one of children to the couple that's getting married?"

"Yes."

"Guess I see you later then," He says, smiling mischievously.

"I guess so," I reply, before walking back down the hall.

"Can someone please, tell me, why we're not even at dessert yet?" I hear someone complaining behind me. It's without doubt one of waiters due to the British accent. And sure enough, a moment later someone way too familiar steps in front of me.

"Hey Pinky," The guy, I think Zayn's his name, says. "When are your parents done so we can get movin'?"

I roll my eyes, "I don't know. In an hour?"

"Well, could you hurry it up," He replies. "We kinda need to be somewhere in one."

"I'll try," I answer, noticing him impersonating me. Behind me someone's snickering.

"I can hear you," I say loudly, turning just in time to see three heads disappear back into the kitchen. I shake my head. For some reason the five waiters my parents hired are either completely impotent or children. Well, everyone besides Harry.

Harry has been taking away my plates all night, always smiling and joking. He even managed to juggle with 6 glasses at once without dropping them. Unfortunately, though, he has too been asking me when we could move on, and the truth is that I don't know.

I thought that when my parents decided to have an all-night extravaganza, they would hurry things up. Especially after the urgent phone calls from the fire department. Unfortunately, though, the clock's slowly ticking towards ten, and my parents are nowhere to be seen. The only thing that still keeps the crowd going is the really, really long-awaited wedding cake.

My eyes scans the room again, hoping to find my mothers caring face, but I have no luck. I'm about to consider sending everyone home when someone taps my shoulder.

"Hey," Harry leans closer so he can whisper in my ear. "You wanna go for a walk?"

I scan the room again, before silently nodding.

It doesn't take long till we're both outside on the beach. The winds are still strong, but at least the rain has stopped. The meteorologists postponed the storm several hours ago, but it's still freezing. I shrug, wishing I'd dared taking my coat.

"You're cold?" Harry asks, and I nod. "Why are you not wearing a suit?"

"I hate suits," I reply.

"You hate suits?" He gives me a weird stare.

"Yes, there so stiff and," I try to think of the right word. "Black."

"Hmm, interesting," He pretends to be thinking. "So you don't like things there's both stiff and black."

"That's not what I said," I try, but can't help but grin.

"I guess that's why you don't like Zayn," Harry continues. "After all, what he has down under is probably both black, and stiff, and-"

"Will you stop it?" I interrupt, instinctively covering his mouth with my hand. He raises his eyebrows and I back away embarrassed.

We walk a few minutes in silence. The cold's not as bad anymore, not after I touched Harry. The blood has returned to my fingers and is finally rushing back into my body. Above us the moon peeks out through the clouds, illuminating our way. And for the first time, I notice the color of Harry's eyes.

"You got gray eyes," I suddenly let out.

"Yeah," Harry admits. "Did you know gray means dirty?"

I look at him, somehow liking where this is going. I shrug.

"Hey, are you still freezing?" He tugs me close to him. He's warm. I'm about to pull him closer when water hits my face. Above us the sky has finally erupted into a full-fledged rainstorm.

"Race you back," Harry suddenly says, something lustful about his tone. I nod.

It takes a little over ten minutes to get back to the hotel. Harry gets there first, but I can see that he would have let me win if he'd known. We're both soaked badly, and through his shirt it's easy to identify his abs and nipples. They're hard.

"Do you have another shirt?" Harry asks.

"No," I gulp, truthfully. Usually I would always wear a basketball T-shirt along with a button down, rarely shirts. I hate shirts almost the same way I hate suits.

"Come with me," He says, gazing into my eyes before dragging me after him into the hallway. His hand burns around my wrist. Trying not to think about it, I make up a question.

"Do you live here?" I ask.

"Kinda, they got staff quarters," He answers as we turn left. "But I have a small flat in New Orleans."

"New Orleans?" I stare surprised at him, knowing it's over an hour away. "What are-" But before I can finish we pass my parents room. And for some reason what's going on doesn't surprise me at all.

"Mom, dad, what are you doing?" I say, stopping in front of the open door. They both turn around, trying hard to hide the fact that their bags are packed and they're on their way out the window.

"Oh, nothing dear," My mom answers, but I stare her down. "All right, we were on our way out so we could get on our honeymoon."

Honeymoon? If I remember correctly they told me it was going to be a family vacation.

"Honeymoon," I repeat, still trying to understand. "We haven't even had dessert yet, and you decided to leave me, my sister, and your guests without even saying goodbye."

"Don't worry, honey," My mom quickly says. "We left a credit card in your room. All you have-"

"To do is what?" I yell. "Send home your guests? Tell my sister you left? Come on, mom. You taught me to be responsible, do you even know Harry and his friends have plans to?"

"Harry?" My mom stares dumbfounded at me as Harry peeks around the corner.

"Hi," He says, waving uncomfortably.

"Look," I start. "You two go back to the ballroom and cut the cake. Whatever you do afterwards, I don't care. If I have to tell everyone so be it. Just go."

My parents stare open-mouthed at me, but do as they're told. After they are gone I turn to Harry.

"Look," I start again. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Harry looks down. "Another time."

But before he leaves something unexpected happens. He leans forward and his lips brushes against mine. A tingling sensation pass through me, and our hands graze. I'm about to let him push me up against the wall, when a voice echoes through the hallway.

"Benjamin," My mom yells. "Are you coming?"

I look at him once more, feeling our fingers intertwine before turning away.

"Night, Benji," He mumbles behind me. I smile.

I fall onto my bed, wanting my day to finally be over. My parents just left for their honeymoon, and even though no one's got a clue, I feel bad for not telling my sister. Something starts nagging my back and I pull out the plastic card from underneath me.

It seems to be laughing, mocking me of everything that didn't happen tonight. I aim for the trashcan, but misses it by a few inches. It's not even worth the try.

I stare at the clock, 11.40. I wonder if I should go see if Harry's still around and within a few minutes I'm back in the hallway. I slowly navigate my way back to the lobby, following the signs to the staff quarters. Harry didn't give me his room number, but hopefully it's not too tough. Luckily, I'm right.

After about five minutes I find myself by small assortment of rooms all labeled staff. I start moving towards them, wondering how to get inside, when I notice one of the doors are ajar. I take my chance.

Inside the room's almost like mine. It has two beds, a large window overlooking the bay, but the bathroom must be out in the hallway. My eyes quickly lock on a white shirt, hanging on the closet and I decide it must be Harry's. The only problem, the room's empty.

As I slowly start searching the room for something to leave a message on, my hand grazes across an old pocket watch on the floor. I open it, but it's not working. Instead both its hands are locked on twelve.

I shake my head before something white, in a backpack next to me, catches my eye. I drop the watch and reach for it. It's a MacBook charger. I stare at it for a moment before deciding that it is as good as any. I continue rummaging through the backpack and soon a red marker finds my hand. I try it out, it works.

I start writing on one side of the charger, careful not to smudge it. I turn it over. I'm about done, when the door creaks behind me. My head instantly turns and in front of me is Harry. A huge smile on his face.