When you see this post a snippet from your WIP
The blaring siren of his phone alarm at top volume yanks Harry out of a deep sleep. Despite the shock of his instant wake up, Harry stares up at the ceiling, blinking, halfheartedly feeling around the mattress beside him for his phone until he finds it and silences it.
His dry, itchy eyes are what finally get him moving. The bottle of eyedrops are in the pocket of his jeans and when he finds them and fishes them out, he doesn’t bother counting the drips, squeezing the little bottle until his eyes feel flooded. He closes his eyes tightly and opens them again, shaking his head.
Harry shoves his feet into his boots and walks outside to greet the early dawn. It’s hazy and stifling hot and the dust seems to infiltrate his every pore. He wonders again why he does this—going outside the Protectorate, just for a lay—when he doesn’t have to. His eyes will bother him for days after this, but he did catch a glimpse of the Summer Triangle the previous night, despite the heavy, constant clouds. Vega shone bright, though he got a crick in his neck staring up at the sky until he spotted Deneb and Altair. He’s still buttoning his flannel over his bare chest when he straddles his bike, but he doesn’t have time to search for his t-shirt, according to Liam’s series of urgent and more and more urgent texts.
He slams his helmet down, kicks his bike into gear and takes off down the road. Of course he wound up at some ancient, grimy motel. From what he remembers of the bar last night, the guy who rented the room was only in town for a day or two. Would be better if he could remember more of the fucking than just wet heat and friction, but at least he’s not hungover. When he hits the highway, he turns left and returns Liam’s call, listening to the buzzing ring through the headset in his helmet.
“How far out are you?” Liam asks, all business, even at six o’clock in the morning.
“Twenty.” Harry checks the speedometer and fuel gauge. “Fifteen if it’s really an emergency.”
“Depends what you think of as an emergency?”
“Please tell me it’s a ship full of puppies and kittens.”
Liam snorts into his headset and Harry rolls his eyes. “It’s never puppies and kittens, H.”
“What is it then?” Even though he has an inkling, he wants to be sure.
“How far out are you?” Liam asks again, confirming Harry’s suspicions.
“Ten.” Harry swerves, leaning hard to the left, and shoots around the abandoned eighteen-wheeler taking up half the highway, speeding towards the towering walls of the Protectorate.
