The Thrill Is Gone

Maybe it would’ve been smarter to take things slow the second time around, to spend their first night as an official couple, examining their feelings and revisiting the past in order to clear up any misunderstandings and make sense of what happened between them. That would’ve been the sensible thing to do after everything they’d been through, but neither Harry nor Paulina, were much in the mood for treading cautiously. They were hormonal twenty-something year olds that had been apart far too long. The month that Harry had been in Lesotho, coupled with the weeks that comprised their break up, had them both aching to be with one another. And had it just been their bodies that longed for the sweet release that only the other could give, then perhaps there was a small chance that they could’ve fought it off, but when their hearts were added to the equation, when the love they felt met the burning passion that was their lust, they didn’t stand a chance.

Their lips moved hungrily against one another, her hands grabbed at his hair, while his kept a firm hold on her bum to keep her up, and from a few yards away, Alistair debated whether or not he should ask them to postpone their kissing in order to get the group picture that Harry had planned on getting if things worked out. Harry had been adamant about it. He wanted to immortalize that moment, because it’d be a nice keepsake for the both of them, and he hoped that having a picture of it in her apartment, would remind her of just how much he loved her, whenever he was away. But as Alistair stood there, he knew that the only thing on Harry’s mind was Paulina, and that there was a very good chance that he’d be told off for interrupting them.

“Sir?” he called to him after having thought it over quite a bit. “Sir?” he called again.

“What?” he growled, after having torn his lips away from his girlfriends.

“You mentioned that you wanted a photograph to be taken. I thought perhaps you might want to take it now.”

“A photo?” asked Paulina, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiled at Harry. “Why do you want to take a photo?”

“Thought it might be nice to capture the moment and all that,” he replied, a faint blush spreading across his fair cheeks. “But it’s rubbish. Isn’t it?”

“Not even! I think it’d be a rad little keepsake to have around.”

With her encouraging smile, Harry told Alistair to get the mariachi lined up and to get the camera they’d borrowed from the palace, ready. As Alistair ran around getting everyone in place, Harry carefully relaxed his hold on her bum so that she could stand up.

“If you give me a few minutes I can get changed.” She told him. “I’ll throw some actual clothes on and maybe put on some make up so I look presentable.”

“You’re already beautiful. Don’t have to put any of that muck on.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re trying to get laid,” she teased.

She expected for him to laugh, for a smile to grace his lips, but he wore an earnest look. “You’re beautiful,” he said quietly, his gaze nearly making her heart give out.

His lips made their way to hers, and as everyone around them bustled to get into place, they lost themselves in a simple kiss. There was no tongue, for none was needed. It was an innocent embrace, powerful enough to force the world from their minds and to make them, in that fleeting moment, feel immortal.

“I still think you’re trying to get laid,” she mumbled into his lips.

Harry burst into laughter. “You’re such an arse.”

“But you love me just the same.” She scrunched her nose playfully, and then turned to look at the set he’d made for her. “Come on,” she grabbed his hand, “Let’s go take those pictures.”

“Why are you in such a hurry?”

“Because the faster we took the pictures, the quicker we’ll be alone.”

“Alistair!” cried Harry. “Hurry up!”

Knowing very well how irritable Harry became when he didn’t quickly have his way, Alistair ran to the lone mariachi that spoke fluent English, and told him to get the others lined up for a quick photo session. The men and women scrambled to get their instruments back out, and as soon as they were standing in order in the sunflower field, the young couple made their way over to them. Paulina was eager to thank the mariachi for having performed alongside Harry, and after exchanging hugs with them; she took her place beside Harry and smiled for the camera.

It wasn’t long after that the pair stumbled into her apartment. The movie was still playing and the bottle of wine that she’d been drinking was on full display atop the coffee table. Had Harry not been focused on the shapeliness of her hips, he would’ve taken not of both those things. He would’ve realized that she’d been sulking as she watched a Disney film and drank, but he was far too captivated by the sway of her hips and the inviting scent her apartment held.

Realizing that the movie was still playing, Paulina grabbed the remote off the table and turned it off. She didn’t want him to know that she’d been sulking with a kid’s movie. The wine would be enough to let him know that she’d been moping about. She didn’t need the movie to add onto it.

“Looks the same in here,” commented Harry, watching intently as she shimmied out of her jacket. “Was afraid I wouldn’t know my way around.”

She placed her jacket on the nearby armchair. “I thought about doing some rearranging, but I haven’t gotten around to it.”

“I reckon the place doesn’t need it. Looks alright how it is, but I mean if you think it’d look better you should do it definitely do it.”

“Are we really gonna stand around talking about furniture?”

He chuckled. “No, God no, I was just making conversation.”

“We don’t need to make conversation, not right now.”

She took two quick steps, stopping only when she was directly in front of him, and when his breath tickled her face, she lifted her hands so they would rest against the fabric of his button up shirt. Her hands slid smoothly towards his shoulders, burying themselves beneath his jacket and forcing the fabric onto the ground. With the jacket no longer a barrier between them, her fingers skillfully unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt, revealing enough skin for her to place her plump lips on.

His breathing hitched when he felt her warm lips on his flushed skin. She moved them slowly, letting them linger on the fair skin before moving upwards, until they made their home at the base of his neck. As her lips reclaimed his flesh, her hands busied themselves by unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, freeing his chest from its fabric prison.

“Paulin,” he moaned softly, his eyes fluttering as her lips began to trail down his chest.

Unable to control himself, he took her face into his hands and placed a rough kiss on her lips. Her lips had been a sweet torture that drove him mad, but he couldn’t stand it, not anymore. He wanted to taste her, to be inside her. Simply standing there as she pleasured him wasn’t enough. He wanted those lips to cry out his name, to see those thighs quiver in anticipation, and to watch her chest flush with color as he thrust again and again.

She stared at him in confusion when he pulled away, and was about to ask if everything was alright, but just as her lips were parting, his hands went to the hem of her shirt. It wasn’t fair that he was half naked while she was fully clothed. He’d dreamt about her curves, about the tantalizing breasts and small of her back where he’d rest his left arm while he took her from behind. He needed to see every inch of her body, to take it as his own, and in turn, offer his own as hers. With steady hands he pulled the shirt upwards and sent it hurling over his shoulder.

“You’re wearing it,” he whispered, eyes fixed on the diamond encrusted necklace that rested on her bare flesh.

“Of course I'm wearing it.” Her breathing grew ragged when his fingers lightly grazed the necklace. “Even when we weren’t together I wore it.”

“But you hated me.”

She chuckled softly. “I’ve always loved you, you silly ginger.”

He tried to talk, to express himself, but his mind turned to mush. He wasn’t able to formulate any coherent words, all that came out was an awkward ramble that in all honesty, didn’t even sound like he was speaking in an actual language. And since he couldn’t express his elation verbally, he opted to do it physically. Harry wasted no time in capturing her lips, and as her arms snaked around his neck, his slid down her bum, and in one swift movement, he hoisted her up and sprinted towards the bed. The couch would’ve done well enough, but he wanted the space to move around, to not have to worry about falling off or her not being comfortable.

When he reached the edge of the bed, he gently lowered her onto it. She stared up at him with lust filled eyes, her exposed chest heaving in anticipation as she watched breathlessly as he unbuttoned his jeans and relieved himself of his boxers. Snapping out of her trance, she sat up, and was about to place her hands on his hips to pull him forwards, but as she reached out to him, Harry shook his head.

“Lay down.” He gently ordered. “Please.”

She shot him a confused look, but lay down just the same. The anticipation was torturous; he was standing there in the nude, but refused to let her touch him. What was he playing at? Was he trying to drive her mad with desire? Her irritated mind told her that he was, but it wasn’t even a second after she came to that decision, that his hands grabbed onto the side of her pants and tugged them down. The pants met the same fate as her shirt did, and she was left only in her boy cut panties and bra. His fingers hooked under her panties, and he slowly began tugging them towards him. She had to arch her back to help him in his task, and when she felt herself free of the cotton prison, she mentally thanked herself for having shaved the night before.

Harry crawled between her legs, the heat from her warmth radiating onto his lower half, making him ache to thrust himself within her, but he couldn’t, not just yet. He had a plan for the night. He wanted to shower her with pleasure, to remind her of what she’d been missing and what she would have from that night forward. He’d told her how much he loved her, he’d demonstrated it via performance, but now he was going to show her the intensity of his affections, in the most natural of ways.

He placed his hands on either side of her, and hunched forwards, lowering his lips to her stomach where he then placed delicate kisses along the lightly tanned flesh. Each kiss moved progressively higher, stopping only when the fabric of her bra impeded his further movement. His hands slid up her sides, relishing in the shapeliness of her curves, and upon touching the fabric, they slipped behind her, fumbling for the fastenings. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d hated a piece of clothing more than he did that bra, but it wasn’t even ten seconds later that the bra was lying discarded somewhere on the ground.

With her lying fully naked in front of him, he stopped to admire her simple beauty. He hadn’t been lying when he said she looked beautiful without make up on. To him, she truly did. There was no adornment better than the tender smile she gifted him, and her eyes needed no mascara or eyeliner, the twinkle they had was enough to brighten their look.

“So beautiful . . .” he said huskily, his right hand resting on the valley between her breasts.

She blushed at the compliment.

“Always blushing,” he mumbled, lowering his lips onto hers until he captured them in a soft kiss.

His lips didn’t linger long on hers. No. They had a far more inviting journey to undertake. He tore them away from hers, and began kissing along her jaw. Her nipples hardened when his lips began moving down her neck, they were growing painfully close to her supple breasts, and when his right hand took her left breast into its possession, she instinctively arched her back. Harry smiled into her skin, enjoying that he had such a strong effect on her. His lips glided towards her right nipple, parting to let his tongue come out to meet the hardened rose bud that ached for his attention. He slid his tongue over it, once, twice, and then wrapped his lips around it, sucking on it gently as his right hand squeezed and kneaded her breast.

A moan in the form of his name passed through her lips as he began to pay her other nipple the same attention as the previous one had been indulged with. He was making her grow delirious with pleasure, a sweet torturous pleasure that overwhelmed her to the point of not being capable of true thought. And when his lips abandoned her breasts altogether, when they began to make their way lower, and lower, until a kiss was placed on her stomach, just above her pelvis, she felt herself become undone.

“W-w-wha?” she stuttered, unable to even say a simple word.

Harry looked up at her, but said nothing. Instead he shot her a grin, one that told her to just lie back down. His message was well received and she resumed her previous position on the bed, the only part of her elevated being her head. He could feel her gaze burning into him as his resumed his kissing, and when his lips, finally graced her pelvis, she bucked her hips forwards. Harry took it as invitation, and without second guessing himself, placed his hand on her stomach to steady her, and then lowered her lips to her moist mound where he placed a tantalizingly slow kiss. He wasn’t an expert at eating pussy. To be honest, he’d never gone down on someone before. There was something about it that just didn’t appeal to him, and hearing his friends talk about how the women they’d been with, had a slightly acidic taste turned him off. But he’d rallied his courage for that moment, he was determined to make it his, and when his tongue darted out, he fully expected to feel as if he were tasting a lemon, but that wasn’t her taste. She was salty, but there was an almost sweet aftertaste to her. It was very faint, and he wouldn’t dare compare it to the sweets he bought at shops, but it was enough for her to taste alright, and when he compared her taste to the ones his friends had told about, he felt relieved.

With his fears put to rest, he guided his tongue towards her vaginal entrance, lapping up her juices, and after moistening his tongue with her, he dragged it back up to soak her aching clitoris. His left hand held her in place as his lips, tongue, and teeth worked tirelessly to please her. He gently nipped at her clit, causing her legs to tremble as tension built within her. His nipping turned to sucking, he took her mound for all she had, and as he alternating between sucking and swirling his tongue around her, he slipped a finger from his free hand into her, making her hips buck and her hands go to his head. She tugged at his hair, chasing the sweet ecstasy that was overtaking her. She could no longer lift her head to see him. Oh no, the pleasure was to much for her, she was arching her back and moving into him, as his tongue continued to have its way with her.

The pleasure was maddening, and with each new finger he pumped inside her, she grew ever closer to falling off the edge, to completely losing herself in his touch. As it was, she was hardly conscious of the wild pounding of her heart, the ragged breathing that filled the room, and the panting that acted as a symphony that inspired Harry to push further, to devour her as if she was the sweetest delicacy to have ever graced the world.

She writhed and flailed against the bed, her hands roaming her body as wave after wave of pleasure crashed upon her. Her hands grabbed at her breasts, at her neck, at her, they moved in desperation, trying to find something to hold onto as she trembled and lost herself in the moment. Finding no relief in her body, she grabbed at the comforter, taking in fistfuls of the fabric as her back arched and she let out a piercing cry in the form of his name.

“Henry!” she cried, eyes stinging with pleasure induced tears.

Her body trembled uncontrollably as he continued to have her. He didn’t care if she’d already came, if his face was covered in her, he wanted to push her as far as he could, to take her to the point of sweet exhaustion where she would be able to do nothing but stare at him with a dazed look.

“Please . . . please just . . . oh FUCK . . . Güerito, just do it, please,” she begged, becoming greedy in her pleasure. She didn’t just want his lips anymore, she wanted him, she needed all of him.

Calling him Güerito was enough to snap him out of his ravenous frenzy. With that one word, she sent him over the edge. He lifted his lips from her mound, and placed them hungrily on hers, and as he kissed her with every ounce of his being, he guided himself into her entrance, and in one swift thrust, lost himself within her. She let out a soft gasp, but soon recovered. Her lips went to his neck, kissing and savoring the taste of his sweat as she lifted her left leg and hooked it onto his hip, giving him enough room to thrust deeper. He fell into a steady rhythm, but soon found that although her leg had lifted, he didn’t have as much space as he’d liked, so he pinned her leg backwards, keeping it only inches away from her face as his thrust forward, meeting her bucking hips that seemed to be perfectly in time as his own.

Her hands grabbed at his ass, taking the soft flesh as her own as she held onto it with everything she had. Slowly, her hands began drifting upwards, gliding across his back as his forehead rested against her own and they continued their fervent kisses. She was only able to kiss him for so long, the scorching feeling that accompanied her orgasm struck her and she found herself forced to tilt her head to the side and let out a moan as her body trembled at his touch. Harry retreated from her, he balanced himself on his knees and hooked his legs under her thighs, he pulled her towards him, making it so her hips were raised and her back was slightly lifted off the mattress. Her legs fell to either side of him, struggling to remain up, as his right hand grabbed onto her hip and his left pressed down on her pelvis.

It was in that position that his paced picked up, he kept a firm hold on her as he thrust deep inside. He was pulling out all the way, letting his tip linger in her entrance before slamming himself back inside, causing soft smacks to resonate in the brightly lit room. She moved tirelessly against him, meeting his every thrust as her hands explored her body. Jealous of her hands, he reached out for her, gripping the side of her neck as he continued to have his way with her. He could see her warmth glowing brightly. The sight was enough to make him smile in satisfaction, and as his eyes were firmly fixed on her pleasured mound, she took the opportunity to lift herself off the bed and straddle him. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck to keep herself up, and grinded against him.

He couldn’t stop himself, a low groan resonated from his throat, and he fell backwards. His legs managed to extend forwards, keeping most of his body on the bed. His head dangled over the edge, but he scooted further onto the bed and that problem was settled. She rested her hands on his chest and proceeded to grind and lift, lift and grind, her flushed cheeks and sweaty brow, her hardened nipples, and parted lips driving him insane. Her pace was faster than his had been, more urgent. He’d been set on making love to her, on giving her orgasm after orgasm, and all she wanted to do was make him reach his peak in a way that would leave him lying on the bed motionless for several minutes.

So she grinded against him, she arched her back and moved forwards and backwards, giving him everything she had. His chest was no longer enough for him, and she placed her hands on either side of his shoulders and leant forwards, putting her breasts right in his face. His lips instantly parted and he took a nipple as his own, nipping and sucking on it as he felt his own release nearing.

“Güerito,” she cried breathlessly, her dark brown eyes closing as the waves of pleasure drew ever closer.

With that one word, she sent him over the edge. He thrust into her one last time before shooting his seed into the awaiting condom. She could feel him spasm within her, and his movements coupled with the heat of his body and the friction they’d created was too much to endure. Her muscles clenched tightly around him, keeping him in place as her arms gave out and she collapsed atop him. Harry immediately wrapped his arms around her, holding her there as he gave a few more thrusts to ride out their orgasms.

Their sweat blended together as their bodies lay pressed against each other, their limbs tangled and breathing ragged. She rested her head on the crook of his neck, trying desperately to steady her breathing as the pleasure lingered on. Slowly she lifted herself, his hold on her loosened and she was able to stare at the exhausted, yet love filled blur orbs that were Harry’s. Her lips curled upwards into a tired little smile, and all she could do was chuckle softly.

“That bad, eh?” he joked.

“The absolute worst,” she replied, breathlessly. “Just so you know I'm going to kidnap you for the weekend.”

“Are you now?”

“Mhm,” she lowered her lips and placed kisses on his glistening chest. “You have to make it up to me.”

“I do.” He nodded in agreement, smirking slightly. “How about you grabbed another condom,” his hands reached towards her sensitive mound, rubbing it gently, “and we’ll have ourselves another go?”

He didn’t have to tell her twice, she climbed off the bed and grabbed a condom from the box he’d left at her place. And as soon as he’d gotten another hard on, they had themselves another go, and after that one, another.

It wasn’t until well after two in the morning that they collapsed from exhausted and drifted off into a dreamless slumber. Harry held onto her as he slept, his nose buried in her hair and legs tangled with hers. On any other day their horrible sleeping habits would’ve forced them apart shortly after dozing off, but on that night, they made it a little less than an hour before the fidgeting began, a true triumph for them.

Paulina was the first to wake, she got up to use the bathroom at around seven that morning, and after having brushed her teeth and washed her face, she climbed back into bed, fully expecting to doze off for another three or four hours, but sleep refused to come. Instead she just sort of lay there, listening to Harry mutter in his sleep and watching as he moved around. That was enough to keep her entertained for a few minutes, but after her stomach started growling, she decided to make them some breakfast. Her mom had stocked her fridge with food, which meant she wouldn’t have to cook for at least a week, but all of the food was spicy, it made her mouth feel like it was on fire, so she knew not to offer Harry any. She rummaged around the fridge for something she could make, but since she’d been traveling around with her mom and Luis, she didn’t have time to properly stock her refrigerator. She was going to have to go to the market.

Knowing that Harry wouldn’t wake up for at least another few hours, she felt alright with making the trip by herself. She took a quick shower, scrubbing the smell of sex and sweat off her, and after changing into some jeans and an old Stanford jersey, she scribbled a quick not for Harry and then took off on her bike.

Paulina was right about Harry sleeping in another two-three hours, his body was fully onboard with not waking up until ten, but unfortunately for him, there was an outside interruption that forced him to wake up. He was lying there, with a bit of a trail of drool dripping onto the pillow when a knock came from the door. The first knock went unnoticed by him, as did the second . . . and the third, but the fourth knock was much louder, much more urgent, forcing his eyes to snap open.

“Someone’s knocking,” he grumbled, hoping that Paulina would open the door; it was her apartment after all. “Paulin . . .” He rolled onto his side to nudge her, but when he turned he noticed she wasn’t there, but there was a note resting on her pillow. “The hell?” he mumbled.

He grabbed the bit of parchment and held it up to his face, it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust enough to the light for him to read it, but when he did, he found out that she’d gone to the market to pick up some groceries and that she wouldn’t be gone long. Thinking that it was her at the door, he slipped out of bed and slid on his boxers. He didn’t even bother putting his wig and sideburns back on.

“Did ya forget your keys?” he shouted as he stumbled towards the door, eyes filled with sleep and his ginger hair an absolute mess. “One of these days you’re gonna forget them and –”

“Surprise chunky butt!” shouted Adrian, Paulina’s second oldest brother. Adrian had been told by Luis that his sister hadn’t been feeling all that well, and since him and his partner, Thomas, were planning on taking a vacation in the near future, they decided to go to England to spend time with her. It was a kind gesture on their part, they were prepared to hang out with her and give her the food they’d brought her from California, but when the door opened and they saw the fiery haired ginger stood in the doorway, Adrian’s excited smile vanished and he was left with a confused look. “Oh shit. Sorry man, we must’ve gotten the wrong apartment. Sorry about that.”

“S’alright,” reassured Harry. “These things happen at flats, but if ya like, I could help you sort out which way you ought to go.”

“That’d be great. Thanks. Uh, it’s . . .” Adrian dug into his pant pocket, fumbling about for the paper that had her address on it.

As Adrian searched for the address, the sleep retreated from Harry’s eyes and he was able to fully take in the man’s appearance. There was something familiar about him, he swore he’d seen him before, but that wasn’t possible. This guy was American, maybe he’d run into him at a fundraiser, maybe he’d . . . his thought came to a halt when he noticed the way he furrowed his brow and pursed his lips, he realized who it was. It was Paulina’s brother, the middle one. What was his name? Adrian! It was Adrian. He had the same fucking look she had, and unable to contain himself he blurted that out.

“Are you Adrian?” he blurted out.

Adrian tensed. “How do you know who I am?” he asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

“I'm your sister’s boyfriend.” Harry nervously stretched out his hand.

He shouldn’t have said it. In fact, that’s the last thing that Harry should’ve said as he was standing practically naked in front of her brother. Adrian was every bit of protective of Paulina, as Raphael and Luis were. And finding out that she had a boyfriend that he didn’t know about, that that boyfriend was in his boxers at her apartment, was an insult to him and the family.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” snapped Adrian, his blue-grey eyes flaring with anger.

“Adrian, calm down,” spoke Thomas, but he knew that there was no way in hell that his partner was going to calm down, the Balcázar men were a little to overprotective of Paulina.

“How am I supposed to calm down when this guys in his fucking boxers at chunky butt’s house? What the hell are you doing at her place this morning? Don’t answer me!” he cried, his face coloring. “You didn’t even ask any of us or our dad if you could date her, and you’re here dressed like that! No! No! No!”

“But I couldn’t ask you –”

“I came here to spend time with my sister and this is what I get?” Adrian shook his head. “Go get your stuff! You’re getting the hell out of here. I'm not dealing with this, no fucking way I'm dealing with this. Why are you still standing there? Go get your shit!”

“ADRIAN ERNESTO BALCÁZAR!” shouted Paulina in Spanish, her dark brown eyes narrowed as she exited the elevator with her bicycle and groceries. “¿Quien chingados piensas que eres? (Who the fuck do you think you are?)” Paulina nearly growled.

“¡No me hables así! (Don’t talk to me like that!)” Adrian bellowed, turning to face his sister.

“Te voy hablar como me de la mendiga gana. ¿Quien te crees? Tú no tienes ningún derecho de decirle a el que se valla de mi apartamento. ¡Es mi apartamento! (I’ll talk to you however the fuck I want to talk to you. I mean, who do you think you are? You have no right to tell him to leave my apartment. It’s MY apartment!)” She walked toward him.

“¡Y tú eres mi hermana y tengo que defender tu honor! Por que es obvio que tú no te has preocupado por eso. (And you’re MY sister and I have to defend your honor! Because it’s obvious that you’ve forgotten to worry about that.)” Adrian spat.

“¿Me estas llamando una puta? (Are you calling me a whore?)” She placed her bike against the wall and stepped right in front of him.

“No seas mensa, no te estoy diciendo que eres una puta. (Don’t be an idiot. I'm not saying you’re a whore.)”

“¿Entonces que estas diciendo? Por que estas diciendo que a mi se me olvido preocupar por mi honor. Y a mi no se me ha olvidado. (Then what are you saying? Because you’re telling me that I forget to think about my honor. And just so you know, I haven’t forgotten about that.)”

“¿Entonces por que esta prácticamente desnudo en tu apartamento? No has estado mucho tiempo aquí, ni un año, y ya estas teniendo relaciones. (Then why is he practically naked in your apartment? You haven’t even been here that long! It hasn’t even been a year and you’re already having sex.)” He couldn’t fathom why his little sister, why the baby of the family was doing this. In his eyes she was always going to be four years old and running wild in the backyard. He didn’t want her to grow up.

“No me hables como si fuera una mocosa. Tengo veinte y tres años, ya se lo que es bueno y lo que es malo, y eso güerito es muy bueno y muy lindo y el me amo y lo amo. (Don’t talk to me like I'm some snot nosed punk. I'm twenty-three years old, and I know what’s good and what’s bad, and that man is good and he’s lovely and he loves me, and I love him.)”

“¡¿Que dijiste?! (What did you just say?!)” He yelled, his eyes flickering in confusion.

“Lo amo. (I love him.)” Paulina proclaimed, defiantly.

Their argument grew so heated that the neighbors began opening their doors, most of them didn’t dare stick their heads out of their doors out of fear of being dragged into the argument that was taking place in a foreign language, but those that did were surprised to see their curly haired neighbor getting into a verbal altercation. She was always smiling, always laughing, they’d never even thought she could get angry, but there she was, red in the face and arguing like there was no tomorrow. Harry had never seen her so worked up. It was worse than when she’d told him off, and he was beginning to think he should get involved somehow. Try to stop it.

“Shouldn’t we do something?” he asked Thomas.

Thomas shook his head. “They’ll be done in a little bit.”

“But they’re all angry and –”

“That’s just how they get. He’s hardheaded, she’s hardheaded, but they love each other and they always make up in the end.”

“Oh . . .” Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Not at all,” reassured Thomas.

“Is he . . . uh, well, is he going to be cross with me? He went bloody mental on me.”

“That’s just how the Balcázar men are. They treat her like a princess and their mother like a queen. It’s sweet, really it is, but sometimes they get out of hand and . . . this happens. Don’t worry though. He’ll get over it and eventually warm up to you. Just be patient with him. He’s stubborn.”

They resumed their silence, and watched as the argument gradually transformed into a normal conversation. Harry wasn’t sure as to what they were saying, but when he saw Paulina smile brightly at her brother, and exchange kisses on the cheek as well as a warm embrace, he knew that the worst was behind them.

“So . . . I see you’ve met more of my family,” she said awkwardly, smiling nervously at Harry.

“Yeah, I have. Nice blokes,” replied Harry, shooting her a smile to reassure her that he wasn’t about to run off on her. “We haven’t been properly introduced though.”

“That’s right, you haven’t. I wonder why . . .” Paulina shot Adrian a look.

“Sorry about going off on you,” apologized Adrian. “Lost my head for a minute, you know how it is with sisters, you want to make sure they’re alright and all that, but um, sorry. Hopefully we can get to know each other better. I'm Adrian, by the way. And this is my boyfriend, Thomas.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Adrian.” Harry shook his hand. “And you as well, Thomas, though we’ve already been chatting.”

“You have?” asked Adrian.

“Yeah, someone had to let him know you two weren’t going to kill each other.” Thomas grinned and then turned to formally introduce himself to Harry. “Nice meeting you . . .”

“Henry,” he said. “Lovely meeting you, as well,” he smiled.

“Come on; let’s get your bags inside. I was just about to make some breakfast.”

Thankfully for Paulina she’d tidied up the flat a bit, she’d put their dirty clothes in the bedroom and had thrown out the condoms.

“Nice place,” complimented Adrian. “It’s cozy.”

“Looks about the size of your place at Stanford,” commented Thomas.

“It is,” she said, closing the door behind them. “But its way cheaper, so it’s a win. Let me take your luggage, I’ll put them in my closet.”

“I’ll help,” volunteered Harry.

He grabbed the bigger suitcase and carried it over to the closet that was right next to the bathroom, the opened door acted as a barrier that kept Adrian and Thomas from seeing them.

“I'm so sorry about my brother, Henry. I can’t believe he talked to you like that. It was mortifying.”

“S’alright, really, brothers are meant to be like that.”

“But he was such a dick. I honestly thought you were going to take off running.”

“It’ll take more than one wanker to make me leave.”

“I’ve got two others in California.”

“Well, let’s just make it so only one’s around to tell me off at a time,” he joked. “Come on, I need to make a better impression on them.”

“Then put on some clothes.” Paulina ran her hand along his chest. “Just grab something to wear from the drawer and you can go shower.”

“That your way of telling me I stink?”

Without saying anything, she pressed her nose against his neck, causing his breathing to hitch.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a strained voice.

“Checking if you stink,” she replied, her warm breath hitting his fair skin. “Hmm, you do, and I'm pretty sure my brother doesn’t want to smell sex during breakfast.”

“You’re right. I reckon he might punch me if I walk around smelling like this. Maybe I should just pop in the shower and you can bring me clothes?”

“Oh fine,” she sighed overdramatically. “You remember where the towels are?”

“Of course,” he replied. “Is my toothbrush still here?”

“No. I sort of threw it out when I was going through a phase, but there are some new ones in the drawer, bought a bulk pack so just get one from there.”

“Right, brilliant, well I’ll be off to shower now. Just leave the clothes outside or ya can come in if ya fancy a look.”

“Really?” she cocked her brow. “Are you really going to talk like that with my brothers in the living room?”

“Bloody hell, forgotten about them,” he chuckled. “Try and make me seem brilliant, tell them about the mariachi, maybe that’ll make him hate me less.”

“He doesn’t hate you. He just doesn’t like you.”

“Well that’s a relief.”

“Oh hush up and go shower.” She placed a soft kiss on his lips. “Don’t take too long, breakfast should be ready pretty soon.”

Harry was walking into the bathroom when he realized something. “Paulina?”

“Yeah?” she asked.

“They’re going to know, aren’t they?”

“Know what?”

“About me, well not about me, but about who I am,” he said. “I just realized I haven’t my wig on. And they’d have to be thick to not know who I am. Can’t go to a market or turn on the teli without me being there in some way or another.”

“Fucking aye,” she cursed. “Oh. I hadn’t even thought about that, but I’ll explain to them. How do I explain this? Fuck it. I’ll figure it out. You shower and I’ll tell them and make breakfast.”

“You don’t reckon I should be there?”

“No, this is . . . I’ll do it myself. Really, don’t worry.”

She took in a deep breath and then walked back into the living room. She expected to see them sitting on the couch, but instead Adrian was picking up Harry’s wig with a tissue.

“Why do you have a wig? Do you get off on dressing like a guy?” asked Adrian.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with being a drag king,” added Thomas. “But you know, it’d be nice to know.”

“I'm not a drag king!” she nearly laughed.

“Then why the wig?” asked Adrian.

“Is it . . . oh . . . It’s him, isn’t it? Oh, I knew he looked familiar.” Thomas realized why he’d recognize Harry; he’d seen his face on the magazines where they’d rented their car.

“What the hell are you two talking about?” asked Adrian. “I’d like to be clued in.”

“Thomas has seen Henry before. I think you both have.” Paulina said.

Adrian pursed his lips, thinking of where they could’ve seen him. “Did he do gay porn before?”

“NO!” she yelled, covering her face with her hands. “He’s . . . no!”

“Then how could we have seen him, because we’re not really anglophiles.”

“We saw him at the rental place.” Thomas explained. “He was on the magazines.”

“Why would he . . . oh, fuck . . . that’s that ginger,” muttered Adrian. “That’s that Prince Harry. I fucking told off a prince.”

“It could’ve been worse. I punched him the first time I met him, messed his nose up a little.”

Adrian let out a booming laugh. “Pinche (fucking) Paulina,” he said. “I guess if you punched him and he loved you enough to stay then he has to be alright by me. I mean who the fuck would stay with someone that punched them. That’s insane.”

“It is,” agreed Thomas. “I have a question though. Should we bow? Or what’s customary?”

“He won’t want you doing any of that. He likes feeling normal here so treat him like you would anyone else. He prefers it that way. And please don’t tell mom and dad or anyone about him. I’d rather not have them going crazy on me.”

“But they’re going to find out soon enough.” Adrian stated. “That is to say, I imagine they will.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“If you guys are as serious as you said you are, then I think it’s only a matter of time before someone finds out about you. I mean, yeah he wears a wig to keep himself hidden, but if he’s always coming here to see you then the paparazzi will start looking for him to get some shots of him, and they’ll end up finding you.”

“Nah, that won’t happen. He’s really careful and no one’s noticed him.”

“Not yet,” chimed in Thomas. “But your brother’s right. The paparazzi gets paid to stalk, you need to remember that.”