We thought that by splitting off into pairs to explore Noumea would make things easier, but now I can't even bear the thought of having to be squished between so many people. And although the semi-pleasant feeling of having butterflies everywhere in my stomach is nice, having to continuously rub shoulders with Harry is making it so much worse.
There's awkwardness still here, considering it was only this morning that we managed to make up, but having constant physical contact with each other and the ever-present thought that this outing will potentially give us melanoma, the silences become normal and the brief glances become somewhat heartwarming.
The sun may be bright, but nothing beats Harry's beaming smile.
We find a cramped line of people outside a small store and by Harry's request we squeeze through the crowd to take a look. As we do, a delicate but tasty aroma sweeps through the air with the wind, and I can already taste the oil on the tip of my tongue.
"Mmm…" I hum loudly. "That smells so good."
"We need to get some of whatever that is they're queing up for," Harry says, nodding.
A gentle tug on my hand and I'm subconsciously following Harry into the line, feeling small but protected in Harry's grasp. I let him slide his hands onto my shoulders to move me in front of him. I let him slip his hand under my arm to reach into my pouch for some francs to pay with. Not only is my face hot, but every place that his fingertips graze become scorchingly painful.
A person steps backwards in the line after their child bumps into them, practically knocking the man over. Fortunately for him, the moron behind them blocked their fall. Unfortunately for the moron, I am the moron.
Losing my balance, I stumble backwards, feeling a little too weak to do anything at the moment after having way too much intimate physical contact with Harry for one lifetime. I don't even make a single sound as I fall, and it takes a minute for me to realise that there are arms steadying me from behind.
The man apologises over and over again, gripping their child's arm tight. Harry's voice booms in my ear, making them ring, but everything is a blur, everything is muffled. I blink and suddenly Harry's in front of me, gripping my shoulders tight and saying something. When I blink again, I'm sitting on a bench, my hat pulled low on my face, a cool breeze on my back, and merely the sound of rustling leaves on branches all around me.
Raising my heavy eyelids, I realise that we're no longer in town… Well, I'm no longer in town because Harry is once again not here. I rip off my hat, rubbing the sweat on my forehead onto my arm and cringing at the unpleasant feeling in my stomach. I'm on a bench under a tree, a little ways from the town from what I remember seeing on the way there, but no familiar faces. Feeling anxious, my fingers scrape the old and crusty wood beneath my fingers.
Since this whole bench has no one but me sitting on it, I spread out my arms, letting the refreshing, cold wind bathe me. When I look up again, I see him. When he notices I'm awake, he rushes over, and the familiar smell of whatever was being sold in that shop blows closer. In Harry's hands are… giant spring rolls?
"You're awake!" Harry exclaims. "Are you okay?" He sidles in next to me, and I gasp when his hand slides onto my cheek.
Instinctively, I grab his wrist and tug it down. I nod. "I'm fine," I say, but I really don't know what happened. "Did I faint?"
He nods. "But do you remember the man in front of you who pushed you?" he asks.
Suddenly I remember everything. It was all a blur, but it seems that my brain isn't absolute mush… yet. But staring into Harry's eyes may very well be the death of me.
"I fainted… because someone shoved me?! Really?" Am I really that weak? No, I blame Harry.
"I… think it was the sun that knocked you out," he tells me. "As long as you're okay now."
I sigh, breathing in the wonderful-smelling item resting in Harry's lap. Noticing my expression, Harry lifts it to my lips and pulls down the paper wrapping.
"Here, have a bite," he offers.
So, with a sudden urge to laugh, I sink my teeth into the pastry, savouring it in my mouth, and Harry keeps his eyes on me the entire time I'm munching. Through a scorching mouthful I blabber, "Oh, my gosh, this is so good!" I chew a little more. "What is it?"
He grins at me, reaching into his pocket to reveal a small tissue. Then he informs me that, "It's called a 'Crab Nem'. Turns out that they're really popular around here."
Suddenly, I realise that I've swallowed the heaven in my mouth and lean forward for another delicious bite, only to find that this 'Nem' is no longer in front of me. My forehead bumps into the wall that is Harry's chest, and I immediately draw away from him, my cheeks hot again. Softness wraps around my wrist.
"Tasmin…"
"S-sorry…" I mutter. "I thought, um, the Nem-thingy was still…" I realise I'm being stupid. "Sorry, I'm a little stupid when I'm hot."
He smiles, but then replies, "I don't think that's true."
Of course he'd disagree to make me feel better.
"How come you can pull off being hot all the time and still be smart?"
"..."