"Ahhhhhhhh," I sigh. I turn my head, letting it smack against the firm pillow beneath me. Harry lies across from me. He opens his eyes and tries to smile, but it looks very mushed against his head pillow. Mine feels mushed too.
"Ahhhhhhhh," he replies, then bursts out in soft laughter with me.
I stare at him, blinking slowly, thinking about how heavy my eyelids feel, and how much I want to let them slide closed, but also how long I'd like to lie here, staring into Harry's half-closed green eyes. And his brown fringe, brushed on one side of his head like that; driving me insane.
He reaches across the warm, empty space. I meet his hand with mine. I watch our fingers twirl around each other, then link. I hang on tight.
The room is lit by soft, yellow-tinged lights overhead. Then candles along the floor, on the desks. There's a fresh and sweet aroma wafting around the room, and I inhale, savouring the smell in my nostrils. Passengers' commotions are completely drowned out by the thick, beige walls, waving curtains, wooden panels for doors. And over the top of it all is quiet, twinkling music. Like a melody you'd hear in a crystal cave; the dripping of centuries-old spring water, dribbling from the stalactites to the shallow pools below. The sounds are hypnotising.
And so is Harry.
He isn't doing anything; just lying there, on his stomach, a towel thrown over his backside. I imagine just going over there right now and laying on top of him. But I stay perfectly still. The sight of him makes me feel drunk enough.
I sigh a very long (and loud) sigh.
I still feel the oil sitting on my back. Like a thick layer of warm waterboarded feathers. Occasional tingles where the massage took place, and a sensation that I'm lying not on a bed but a hammock. No. Even better – a giant palm leaf. And the sun is on my back. I open my eyes, thinking about sunscreen, and how mad my mum will be when I go home with red cheeks, red shoulders, red… lips…
Harry's lips.
My lips.
Palm leaves, and the sun. Some soft music too.
I can taste coconut. I can also taste Harry's mouth… Whatever his mouth tastes like. It must taste sweet like coconut, I conclude.
I think I open my eyes, because I can see Harry's green eyes again. They're much closer. Much more vibrant. They twinkle when I smile at him, which makes me smile even bigger, which makes his eyes twinkle even more. I think I see a bright angel in his eyes.
God, I love this.
Harry.
When I open my eyes, I'm still holding Harry's hand. Or maybe he's holding mine. I can't tell, but I stare at our entwined hands, running my thumb over his palm.
"… Awake, Tasmin?" His voice. I almost fall asleep again. I think I hum. But I'm not sure. "… Time to go."
I groan. "… I don't want…" I really don't want. I really, really don't. "Go," I say.
Harry's hand unlinks from mine. I open my eyes wide: "No!" I see his face, then let them fall closed again, relieved that he's still here. "Don't go."
I feel his soft laugh reverberate in my ears. The sound feels like a thousand butterflies fluttering around my head. "If you want to stay, I have to go pay for another treatment," he explains calmly.
"Mmm…" I smack my lips at the pillow (or at him), pouting them a little, thinking maybe he'd want to kiss them. When he doesn't, I sigh. "I'm up," I say.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Gosh, Tasmin, you look like you've been hit by a truck," Lilli comments when we meet up at the buffet for lunch.
I laugh. "A truck driven by Harry." I feel Harry's hand tense in mine, and laugh some more. "A very handsome truck," I continue.
Lilli rolls her eyes. She told me not to drink, told me that I'm too young, but I told her that I was turning eighteen in no time, and I was only going to have a little bit. Charlie said one sip was fine, so I grinned and took Harry's glass.
After lunch, I don't feel as drowsy, but looking anywhere in Harry's direction makes my face feel hot. At one point, while laughing at something Harry said, I almost knocked over a poor girl. But she was so beautiful, with curly brown hair and smooth brown skin, I actually took both her hands and shook them. I even asked her where she got her dress from. She just shook her head quickly, glanced at Harry, and bolted away rather quickly. Harry seemed to freeze beside me then, and when I turned around, I cackled at the look on his face. Maybe he scared her away.
I feel hysterical, more so than Emily, and that's saying something. I'm thinking about asking Harry to have dinner with me, and we've only just had lunch. He smiles when I do ask him, nods, but says that it's a little early.
I didn't want to be in the boys' cabin yesterday, but I lead Harry and my jelly legs straight there. He opens the door without question, and directs me straight to the desk chair. I say I want to sit on his bed. He says maybe later.
"I'll be back," he says to me, a weary smile on his face.
I stand up quickly and almost topple over. I feel Harry's arms grip mine. I slide one of my hands up his forearm, pressing on the muscles there, feeling my cheeks hurt from smirking so much. His breath hitches.
"I'll be right back," he says, then lowers me back into the seat. "Don't go anywhere, okay?"
I nod.