***

Sunlight streams in through sheer, light yellow curtains that are hanging in front of a large, floor to ceiling window, bursting on to my face and causing me to hide it underneath a pillow. I yank the fluffy comforter up over my bare shoulders, huddling further in to the bed in order to try and drift off again. But as I try to fall back asleep, I realize that the bed I’m lying in is much too soft to be my own and the sheets don’t smell like my cheap perfume, either. Confusion seeps in then and as I wiggle around and pull myself out from the tight huddle of blankets and pillows that I’d built up, I rack my brain for the happenings that lead me to this strange bed.

Harry.

His face seems to glow wildly in my mind, illuminating other aspects of the night before that I’d forgotten in my exhausted and shaken state.

After I’d agreed to allow him to put me up for the night, I remember following him down the crowded L.A. street to a hotel that I could tell was expensive just by the nicely trimmed shrubs that lined either side of the double, shiny entrance doors. His room was just as immaculate as the outdoors of this place had been, if not more so, and the bedroom he told me I could have was beautiful as well, though I don’t really remember taking the time to look it over.

I’d showered right after locking myself in the medium sized room, dried off, and fallen in to bed naked, choosing to let the sheets hide my body instead of clothes. Now, as I move around and try to untangle myself from the blankets that I’m twisted in, I try to listen for any sounds that would indicate Harry being in the room that rested just outside my door and realize he was probably lingering just in the main room when I hear the clink of what I think is china glasses.

Finally managing to get free of the bed, I trip over to the big window, doing well to hide everything but my head from the eyes of the people scurrying about down below. They’re all hurrying around in shiny cars or expensive shoes, only a few bums lingering around, begging for a bit of change, probably. Then, I scan my eyes up to the tops of the high, tall buildings that lay around and am not surprised when I see quite a few well known stores of designers and other high-end, well-known shops. We were sleeping in the midst of what I liked to call ‘Golden Avenue’, a place full of things that shined liked gold and gave people the expressions that the valued stuff always did.

Abandoning the window once I’d had enough surveying, I search the room for some clothes and frown when I noticed my dress lying at the doorway to the bathroom, appearing to be quite ripped and very dirty; I definitely wasn’t going to be able to wear that again. Choosing a dark blue robe that catches my eye, I wrap it around myself and secure it at my waist with the two ties.

When I open the door, Harry pauses with a delicate looking cup resting near his lips and locks his eyes on me, them briefly scanning down my covered body as he smiles a little. He sits the cup down and stands, running his big hands over his jeans.

“’Morning,” he waves slightly.

I only offer up a small, quick smile and shuffle out of the room. When I take a seat across from the chair he’d been sitting in, he drops back down in the plush thing and shines his grin over to me again.

“Would you like some breakfast? There’s a cart full of everything just over there.”

He indicates over towards a cart that’s hiding in a dark wing of the hotel room, nodding a little when I give a shake of my head.

“Well, at least have some tea.”

As he goes about pouring some steaming liquid from a plain teapot, I chuckle. His head jerks up at the sound and he, too, begins to laugh while trying to not spill any of the tea.

“Why’re you laughing?”

“Tea,” I murmur, folding my legs underneath me. “So very British of you.”

He rolls his eyes but laughs airily. Handing me the cup now full of steaming, caffeinated liquid, I murmur a quiet ‘thank you’ and inhale the ribbons of vapor. I can feel as it winds its way through my system and instantly perk up a bit. I realize while I awaken a little more, that I was facing quite a dilemma.

Those two John’s that I had run out on were probably passed out at my apartment and I figured Barb had had it with me after all the commotion I’d caused. I wasn’t worried about the few belongings that I knew rested in trash bags in the shitty room, but was more concerned with the fact that I probably wouldn’t have anywhere to sleep tonight. Of course the several mission’s that I was familiar with were a possibility, but I really only looked at them as a last resort, as they provided grungy old men along with their bland, hot meals and rough cots.

Sighing, I run a hand through my soft hair and sip at my tea. What was I going to do now?

“You alright?” His tone is soft and gentle, catching me off guard as I drag my eyes over to his lean frame. I muster up a faint smile and just nod my head. He doesn’t press any further, thankfully, just hums and repeats my head movement. “Your face is looking a little better. Does it still hurt?”

Having forgotten about the cuts and bruises that now resided on me, I feel as my eyes widen slightly and raise tender fingertips up to touch my lip and forehead. The slit in my bottom lip is crusted over with dried blood and I can still taste iron when I flick my tongue over it; my forehead emits a surge of pain when I press on it and I figure that’s a good sign, as it hadn’t given me any trouble when I’d been sleeping.

“Not so much,” I mumble.

More silence drifts in between us in which I finish off my cup, stare out the tall window that rests across the room and try to come up with some sort of plan that might help me. Of course I knew there was always the option of maybe bumming off of him some more, but when the idea strikes me, I cringe a little and feel as my heart gives a tug or two. I can’t impose on him anymore than I’d already had, despite the fact that I knew he probably would allow me. He’d been kind and had rescued me when I’d needed it, but now it was time for me to get back up on my own.

Setting the cup down once I’ve decided to just start walking and see where I get to, I explain that I’m going to get dressed and have walked all the way back into the room before I remember that I don’t have any clothes to dress in. Mumbling a curse, I comb my fingers through the ends of my tresses.

Begrudgingly, I drag myself back out into the main room, where Harry was just getting up and heading over to the breakfast tray, and begin wringing my hands a little while I try to construct a proper sentence that might lead to him allow me to borrow some clothes.

I clear my throat and draw in a steady breath. “Uhm, Harry,” I start, which causes him to turn and flash me a handsome smile. “,would you mind lending me some clothes? My dress is completely ripped.”

“Yea, ‘course. Does it matter what?” I smile in relief, feeling as it filters out onto my lips, and give a shrug of my shoulders. He, too, smiles and then starts for his room.

While he tries to scrounge up something for me, I head over to the window and lean against the frame. Peering down at the neat concrete that rests beyond the entrance and exit doors, I’m surprised when I find a few people loafing around with expensive looking camera’s in their hands. Most of them are men and they’re smoking cigarettes or downing cans of soda, but others are young girls and they’re huddled in big groups. I wonder if someone famous is staying in the building with us, but don’t give it much thought because Harry returns with a few garments in his hands.

“Alright,” he chuckles a little, easily showing me everything he’d brought in his big hands. “I got this button up, this t-shirt and a few pairs of jeans.” As he hands them off to me, I smile again and muffle a laugh when he begins to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck. “I hope the jeans fit and that you like some of that… I’m not really into fashion or anything, so some pieces might be horrendous.”

I clutch what he brought to my chest, rifling through it and mentally determining what I’d wear, and grin. “It’s fine, Harry. Thanks.”

I head for my room again once he beams at me, sliding in quickly and shutting the door behind me. I lock it, too, though I’m surprised when I don’t really feel a need to. I’d bolted myself in last night as a precaution, but his nature this morning was slowly disarming me and I didn’t know if that was a good thing or not; it didn’t matter though, because I would be gone before the next hour.

Slipping back on my rip tights, I put on the light blue button up, ignoring myself when I deeply inhale the cologne that radiates off it, and fashion the sleeves and the rest of the fabric into a short dress. It wasn’t exactly the modest thing, but it would do. I find my heels next and my bag, gather the clothes of his I hadn’t needed and then head back out into the main room.

Easing the stuff back into his arms, I try to ignore how his emerald eyes strain to stay on my face and the way it makes my upper thighs subtly ache. “Thanks, again,” I mutter.

He nods, swallowing, and simply tossing the clothes in the doorway of his room. “Are you off, then?”

I bite down on my lip, desperately shouting for the little voice in the back of my head to shut up when it tells me to stay-that I would be safe with him. “Yep. I need to figure out where I’m staying tonight and everything.”

“Oh, you’ve got nowhere to go?”

“I mean I think I do, but it’s probably best I never go back there. Sort of ruined it just before I ran into you yesterday.”

“Well, you should just stay with me, then. I don’t head back to London for a few more days and there’s no sense in you sleeping on the streets when you could just stay in that room.”

Shaking my head, I continue to disregard the voice that’s still chattering and smile softly at him while heading for the door. “I can’t do that, Harry. You’ve already been so nice to me.”

“Are we going to argue about this again, Elaine,” he sighs, though smiles fondly. I cringe a little at the fake name I’d given him and just want to run away at that moment because I’m being faced with some difficult decisions, some dangerous decisions.

Do I let myself stay with him, expose my real self and allow him to take care of me for a little while? Or do I strike out on my own again and try to do the best I can?

“My names Delaney, actually,” I mutter while heading over to the couch and dropping my bag down. He sighs and nods, not even appearing angry about the fact that I’d lied to him.

“Delaney,” he murmurs, taking a seat back in his chair. “That’s a pretty name.”