"I remember."  He typed.

Harry could vividly remember the show she referred to. Laurel had been in a mood on their late night lover's walk in Barcelona. He hadn't realized how much she had had to drink until she tried to unbuckle his belt when they had stumbled under an arch way to make out. She was giddy and cutely clumsy. She had been pressing silly kisses to his neck and smacks against his cheek. Harry had connected their mouths right by a tiny alleyway and he'd been in for it. Her pouty lips, his favorite feature, had slid between his and she'd immediately swiped her tongue against his own and he'd had no choice but to open to her. Laurel had slipped her tongue into his mouth with a little wiggle and his stomach had clenched. She's pressed him to the door then and tilted her mouth to slid her tongue over the top of his more fully. He'd returned the enthusiasm until her hands had roved from where they were tracing his chest down to his v lines and then his belt was in her hands and he was in trouble.

"Laurel, baby, babe, we are on the street," he'd tried to caution against her mouth.

She was totally undeterred and when she started to drop to her knees he had no choice but to stop her.

"Laurel, much as it pains me, you gotta stop. Let's go back to the hotel so we can do this more comfortably." He was careful not to touch her after that, every time he did they had another close call.

By the time they arrived at the W, she was singing and swaying to the music over the speakers, which she seemingly knew all the words too. Her slow grind continued in the elevator and he nearly swallowed his tongue when she slipped the strap of her dress off one shoulder. He could see her nipple in the mirror clearly through her sheer bra, pebbled. He glanced up and the intensity of her gaze made it clear she knew. When the elevator opened, she walked out toward their room without a backward glance. She knew he'd follow.

Once inside, she grabbed her phone and played another Spanish song he couldn't understand, but the beat fit her purposes. He followed her into the living area of the suite and sat in the chair she motioned to.

As the song played, the moves she'd surprised him with at the bar hours ago became more familiar and the rest of her clothes slipped from her body to the rhythm until she was naked in his lap.

She stayed on him in one form or another until well past dawn and he was sad to no longer be wearing her skin when they separated to welcome their room service.

Yeah, he remembered his show in Barcelona.

"What else do you remember?" Was her quick response.

"Everything, but I dream about how you smell," he knew this dance. Their sexting game had been strong, had to be.

"What do I smell like?" Harry liked to imagine her, she made this face when she was turned on, her eyes rolled back a little and she'd lick her lips, rub her thighs against each other.

"Like salt, like the sea. I wanted to dive right into you."

"You did, over and over," Laurel responded.

Harry gulped, "can you talk?" He wanted to hear her voice, it was higher pitched normally, but was so throaty at times like these.

"No, I'm not alone."

No, she wasn't alone because he'd waited to long.

"K, call me tomorrow. Please." he responded and put his phone on the charger before forcing his heavy feet up the stairs. Harry desperately wanted to continue their conversation, but his conscience, or maybe his ego, couldn't go any further while Willy lie next to her.

That was an image he was sorry he'd conjured for himself. He brushed his teeth in the dark because he couldn't look at his own sorry face. He'd made such a mess, but he just wanted to hear her call him baby. It was so selfish. He needed to play this hand right, he'd clearly played his cards wrong before. How could he convince her to give him a shot when her new man, maybe a better man, was sat beside her.

He also felt a bit like she was stringing him along. Though, if he was honest, that was more his style. He put his toothbrush back in its place and went to bed.

Harry tossed and turned while he chased dreams, but every time he closed his eyes he could see Laurel in Willy's arms, as she could very well be at that moment. Sleeping soundly, sniffling and trying to put her freezing cold feet between Willy's legs, like she always had with him. Or worse, beneath him, calling him baby, her breath catching the way it did right before she moaned his name. Not his name, Willy's. Fuck, he was torturing himself, and not sleeping.

He got out of bed and grabbed his journal and went into his music room, should be safer there. He was sure they had given that room a miss. Harry spent the better part of the wee hours of the morning writing about unrequited feelings and chances missed. He fell asleep on top of his journal and woke up to black smudges on his cheek.

She didn't call him the next day. Or for another four days.

When his phone rang the following Thursday and her kissy face popped up he felt like he was falling, or maybe flying.

He was diving in head first as soon as she spoke. God, he hoped she meant it.

"Baby, I need you."