One moment, it was blazing hot, and the heat felt prickly all over my skin. That isn't to say that I didn't enjoy the booming music, the muffled undercurrent of people, the heat of a party. The smiles on other partygoers' faces are enough to bring the heat to my cheeks and a smile to match. But it was Harry who gave me the biggest smile, Harry who had a nostalgic twinkle in his eyes, and Harry who was leading me through the night. When my legs finally began to ache, and my eyelids finally started to droop, I knew the night was old and at its darkest; the perfect time to be outside in it.
The next moment, when we burst out of the glass doors and onto the twinkling deck, glossy puddles lit up by the strings of gentle light, creating a show of spectacular colours, the cool breath of the night creeped through the thin fabrics of my clothes. I was bathed in a comforting chill, and it spread quickly, pinpricks of cold all over me. That's when I noticed the rain.
Soft on the deck at first, hair-thin crystals that each emitted their own colours, pattering over us. Within a minute, it was coming down harder, and I knew that it wouldn't be long before we were thoroughly soaked through, along with the secret note in Harry's pocket, which I knew would be transformed into a murky black mess of meaningless ink on a wavy note. And Harry needed to receive that note.
I tug on Harry's wrist, racing for the buffet doors, but Harry tugs back at my hand, and I fall back, muttering in surprise as I swivel to face him. He's pursed his lips into a tight knot, aching to say something, but not saying anything. And I think, Could he finally be telling me?
"Can I – tell you – something?" he says hesitantly. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
Then, Harry is leaning forward, eyelids falling, edging closer, lips parted. I can't move. I want to leave and I want to stay. Lilli's warnings and doubts socked me in the stomach, and my breathing ceases. But desire is an arrow attached to a string attached to Harry's heart, reeling me in.
Heat creeps through Harry's fingers and up my arm, hugging my cheeks in a tight embrace. From this close, his green eyes are pools of dark emerald, and his downward gaze drags my own gaze lower, resting on his parted lips, pink and inviting. A ball of crystal lands on his lips, fading, dripping. The raindrop looks as gentle as his lips, but comes quick, leaves quick. So close now, and I think of the moments we were this close in primary school. Leaning over each other's desks, whispering to each other during lessons, chuckling under our breath, drawing doodles on each other's pages. We were young then, with nothing but a lilt of energy in our hearts, but we are still young now, but with a newfound curiosity of being even closer than before. There's a reason to be closer to each other, to build everlasting bonds upon the cemented memories of childhood friendships. There's something else about being so close to him that is unnerving. And I try not to think of Lilli as the dark curtains close over my vision, and I'm left with only sensation to accompany me.
Soft lips press against my cheek, and I smile, breathing under my breath, imagining white puffs of carbon dioxide congealing in the air in front of mine and Harry's face. It isn't until Harry shifts back that I realise that it wasn't intentional. Had he wanted to kiss me… or simply whisper something?
I'm suddenly extremely grateful for the darkness as the blood rises to my face. But embarrassment and hurt goes hand in hand with red cheeks, especially when the warmth of Harry's hand falls away from mine. The rain feels colder, and the chill enfolds me, making me shiver. But the look on Harry's face makes me feel worse; bothered and surprised and… apologetic. And then he does apologise.
"Sorry." But I have a feeling that he isn't referring to the kiss. "Sorry," he says again. And then the warmth disperses completely as he disappears, lights shining spotlight-like over him as he runs. He came as fast as that raindrop on his lips, and left just as quick.
I don't return to the party. I don't return to where I want to be at this moment, bathing in the heat of the night, rubbing shoulders with strangers, enjoying the percussive beats pounding through the disco floor and rattling my bones.
As I travel back to the safety of my cabin, the lights are lightning-bright, violently exposing my almost drunk composure. Harry came into my life as the shining sun, an aura of happiness around him. And now he burns twice as bright, stabbing into my core, plunging me into unnavigable depths of white. I feel blinded.
I wonder what went wrong. What I did wrong. A thousand possibilities rush through my head, but none quite make sense. Harry doesn't quite make sense.
These few nights felt euphoric. A dream I shouldn't be a part of. But being part of the dream makes me expect so much more to come of it. Perhaps, in an alternate universe, Harry had kissed me in the pouring rain, embraced me beneath a colourful canopy of artificial twinkling stars. Maybe, I wouldn't have ended the night trying to find my way home in the halls I used to know.