"What are you thinking?" he asks from beside me, breaking the silence as we lay in bed naked together.

"Nothing," I answer, basking in the rays of sunlight filtering into the room from the window beside the bed.

"Nothing?" he questions incredulously.

"Yeah, nothing," I repeat.

"Hmm," he says, deep in his throat. "Seems as if I'm going to have to give you something to think about," he murmurs as he places one hand on my hip.

"No," I whisper. "I can't take anymore."

"Not even a little bit?" he asks, pouting like a little boy when I look over at him.

"No, David."

He pulls me towards him and wraps his arms around me. It feels so good, but I'm so sore. And hungry.

"I'm hungry," I mumble into his chest.

"Okay. Well, I'll cook something for you—"

"We can buy KFC," I say, not wanting him to put out unnecessary effort.

"No, no, I want to," he insists.

"I'm hungry now," I insist. "We're buying KFC."

"Okay, impatient much," he mumbles, getting out of bed to search for some clothes. 

He goes to one of the drawers, his back turned to me, and I notice that there are scratch marks running down his back from last night.

Last night...

No, Leah. We are going to eat. Food. 

"You coming?" he asks as he turns around, pulling a shirt over his head.

"Uh, yeah," I reply, getting up and dressing myself, all the while distracted by memories of last night.

The closest KFC is twenty minutes away, and when we get there, to our luck, the drive through only has two cars in front of us.

"Welcome to KFC, may I take your order?" I woman says through the speaker.

"Hello, can I get a five piece wing—"

"No wings, miss,"

"Um, okay, can I get a one piece, barbecue—"

"No barbecue—"

"—spicy—"

"—no spicy—"

"—original breast—"

"—no breast."

Meanwhile, asshole David is cracking up beside me.

"You should've let me cook for you."

I flip him off.

"Okay, what do you have?"

"Zinger, famous bowl, fries, leg and thigh."

"Okay can I get a zinger?"

"Oh sorry, di last one jus' sell."

Bombo-pussy-rassclaat.

"Famous bowl."

"Combo?"

"Yes, with Pepsi." They must have Pepsi.

"No —"

"Fuck the drink," I say, unable to contain my irritation any longer.

At this point, David's laughter fills the entire car. She tells me my total — $295 — and I thank her.

"Fuck off," I say to him.

He drives around and picks up the food.

"It's not my fault that they're under stocked."

"You're laughing at me."

"You should have waited."

"And you'd still be cooking."

I shove a fork full of food into my mouth, scorching my tastebuds in the process.

"That's... true," he answers. 

"So shut up."

The rest of the drive is filled with the sound of me chewing noisily, and David humming under his breath.

***

"This is the best vacation that I've ever had," I state after letting out a heavy sigh.

We're lying down beside each other in bed. David is naked, because according to him, it's too hot for him to keep his clothes on.

"I feel the same."

"What's the second best?" I ask him curiously, propping myself up on my elbow to get a better view of his face.

He scrunches up his face, then smiles.

"Went to the Wizarding World of Harris Potter last summer, both theme parks. Took the Hogwarts Express."

"Don't you think that if Harry Potter is set in England, the Wizarding World should be in England?" I ask him, lying back onto the bed.

"I think that they should probably set up another one there," he says thoughtfully. "What's your second favourite vacation?" he asks.

I consider the question for a few seconds, then answer.

"When I was with Andrew, we went to Dolphin Cove. It was amazing; dolphins are my favourite animals."

I turn my head to the side to look at him, to find him staring at me with a curious expression.

"What?" I ask.

"You spoke about him."

Shit. I did.

"I... I didn't even realise the significance of it."

"Well, it's pretty fucking significant, if you ask me."

He looks at me as if trying to choose his next words very carefully.

"Would you go back?" he questions.

I think about it, the memories coming back to me, causing a dull pain to rise in my chest — present, but bearable.

"I don't know," I answer him as honestly as I can.

"We're leaving day after tomorrow," he says, changing the topic, probably assuming that I'm uncomfortable, and he's right.

I grumble incoherently a little at that.

"We have to go back to work, darling," he reminds me, followed by a quick, soft kiss on the lips.

"I know, but I don't want to."

"That makes two of us, babe," he states, (twisting so that he's lying on his side, facing me; I do the same) "but this śhit isn't free, and you have to pay your rent. Wouldn't want them to cut of your light again, would you?" he asks.

"No, I wouldn't," I answer.

"So we have to go back," he concludes, and something occurs to me.

"Yeah. Now that I think of it, I'm surprised that Marcus hasn't called."

"He hasn't? You're sure that you didn't get a missed call from him?"

"Nope."

"Maybe you should see if he's okay."

"I will," I tell David, who genuinely looks concerned. To ease his mind, I sit up, pick up my phone and dial Marcus's number.

"Where the fùck are you?" he hisses through the phone, and I release a sigh of relief that I didn't even realise that I was holding.

"Westmorland," I respond.

"What the fu—"

"Bítch, if you wanted to talk to me, why didn't you call?"

"I texted!" he replies angrily.

"Well, I didn't see the messages. I've been busy."

"Busy doing what, Leah?" he asks sarcastically.

"None of your fùcking business. Look, what's your problem now?"

"You have a photoshoot next Wednesday, it isn't an option, end of story. I'll text you the details. Goodbye."

And with that, he hangs up on me.

Dear god. I really do love Marcus; he's the closest thing that I have to a friend. Unfortunately, his temper can be so goddamn bad sometimes.

"That didn't go well," David comments.

"He just has a bad temper."

"Really? Are you sure that's all?" he questions skeptically.

"What else could it be?"

"Well... you did say that he likes me."

It takes me a while to catch up with his train of thought.

"You think that he's jealous?"

"Maybe."

"That's ridiculous. He didn't know that I came here with you."

"He probably figured out that we were together. That we are together. That that's what has you so... preoccupied."

"You are one cocky bastard, do you know that?" 

"He also just got out of a relationship; he's probably lonely."

"I want to go to the beach. I'm putting on my bikini bottoms. Go put on some swim trunks before sand goes up your urethra," I tell him, changing the subject, but the more I think about it, the more David sounds like he's right.