The line where the sea meets the sand shimmers under the late-afternoon sun that sits low on the horizon. It has finally chosen to grant our eyes some mercy as it slowly dips towards the water, throwing glowing orange fairies skidding over the waves. As they meet the shore, our feet sink a few centimetres, casting deep moulds in the soft yellow floor.
The salty breeze makes my dress dance around my knees, making me feel like dancing too. I think of the girl I saw Harry with this morning and glance his way. After such a carefree day with him, you'd think that he'd be beyond joyful, but the serious expression is back, along with a hint of discomfort.
I feel for him, but I almost burst out laughing. He notices the constipated look on my face and says, "What?"
"Nothing," I reply, pretending to stretch. I'm grateful that Harry suggested leaving our things on a bench not too far away so that our shoulders can have a little relief. When I get back, I'll be sure to demand a shoulder massage from Lilli.
I sneak another look at Harry, who's got his green eyes trained on the sand and more sand ahead of us, cheeks lit up gold. The urge to run my fingers over his cheeks is beyond my control, but my right hand is now covered by a comfortable warmth. Harry has taken my hand in his and is slowly caressing it.
"Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"You know how I fell over earlier today and you caught me?" I query.
"Yeah?"
"I bumped into you, but I also bumped into something sharp. Normally, I'd just whine about getting a massage, but, Harry, I don't think belts are supposed to be so painful to run into," I tell Harry, who looks like he needs to keel over.
He bites his lip but lets out a laugh. "I love being interrogated."
"Get used to it," I shoot back.
"Guess I'm going to have to."
I nod in agreement, but I have a feel that there's a little bit more to what he said just now.
"So?" I say, directing the conversation back to the "interrogation".
"You really want to know?"
"I wouldn't ask if I didn't," I press on.
"Kay," Harry says. He stops walking, and he tugs on my hand, turning me to face him. His eyebrows are furrowed again, but the golden pool of light reflected in his eyes make him look beautiful. I reach up and run my thumb over his brow. The surprise registers quickly on his face and I let out a chuckle. "So, um… I need to tell you something."
I nod. Then change my expression to an over-exaggerated shocked face. "You do?!"
When he smiles but doesn't say anything for a long time, I bring my hand to his cheek and cup it in mine. My mum would always rub my cheek when I was upset or nervous. Sometimes she'd plant a kiss on my forehead, but I've always been shorter than my mum, and the thought of missing Harry's forehead for… something else… would be embarrassing.
His eyes widen a little at the gesture, and I'm worried that I've already made the wrong move, but he covers my hand with his, smiling sadly at me.
"I'd, um, like to stay in-contact with you after the cruise," he tells me.
"Of course we can, and just because the cruise is going to be over soon, it doesn't mean that we can't organise times to hang out as a group again," I reassure him.
"It'll be a lot harder," he forces the words out.
I feel the frown coming but I push it down and ask, "Is this what you're going to tell me?"
He takes a deep breath in. "My father wants to move back to London."
"And that means…"
"It means…" He swallows. "I have to go with him."
"Back to London."
"Back to London," he echoes.
I hold Harry's hand tighter. "That's a long way from here, I mean – Australia."
"It is," Harry agrees, sighing. Slowly, he glances up at me. "Are you mad?"
I give him a look. "Harry, if this is the reason you've been acting up this whole trip, you really need to stop worrying." I squeeze his hand. "I'm not mad."
His weary expression tells me there's much more to say, and much more he wants me to say to him, whether it be reassuring words or an explosion of how upset I am, but before I can say anything else, Harry's murmuring something in my ear.
"Huh?" I say, because I didn't hear him the first time.
He chuckles. "Give me your hands," he instructs. I press them into his. "And open them like this." He cups them so that my hands form a bowl.
"Close your eyes," he says calmly.
I do. And then a velvety object lands in my palms. I close my fingers around it, feeling the dull edges and enjoying the soft fabric covering the small box.
"Do I…?"
"Open your eyes, Taz."
A little blue box sits in my hands, so I pull gently on the lid, and I'm blinded for a second by the golden light of the sun hitting the twinkling ring perched on a small blue pillow.
It's… It's…
"HARRY!" I scream. "This is… Why did you…?"
The smile he gives me is brighter than the ring. "Put it on, Tasmin," he says.
I lift it from the case, sliding it onto my ring finger, an uncontrollable grin on my face. It's so perfect, so beautiful, so… expensive.
"Harry, you idiot, why would you ever buy this?!" I yell at him, half laughing.
"You don't like it?" he asks, sounding slightly offended.
"I love it," I tell him honestly. "I just feel guilty for accepting it."
"Wear it for me, won't you?"
"I am, right now."
"Always?"
"Why'd you get it for me, Harry?"
He tucks my hair behind my ear, then points my hand gently towards the ocean. "See how the colours are casted wherever the ring points?" Turning the ring in all directions. "That's you, Tasmin."