Chapter forty-four

Unsurprisingly, the market is so full when we arrive, that Lilli insists that we split up a while, one pair in the market, another pair in town, and finally a pair by the beach, and the meeting spot is the fork-path by the jetty at three. I don't know what Lilli is playing at, especially since she practically lectured me yesterday, but I think she's trying to make it up to me.

"Which way's the town?" Harry asks, getting on his tip-toes to peek over the heads of the passengers and town's people. "Should we backtrack?"

I glance around at these unfamiliar surroundings and what doesn't seem to be a town at all. "Maybe we should."

The sandy path we're standing on is bathed in full sunlight, and I'm yearning for slightly more coverage than just sunglasses. Like he's read my mind, Harry says, "We should find the town quick, I'm already melting."

"Same."

But just as we turn around to head towards the town, a crowd of overly-excited tourists comes rushing our way, barging and thrashing. All I feel is the irritating swarm of shoulders knocking into me, the rush of hot wind as the people pass, and then a soft hand enveloping mine.

I don't have time to glance down to check because the hand pulls me away from the crowd, and then I realise that it's Harry. He's still holding on tight even after we escape the hoard, and a new layer of warmth spreads over my cheeks. I even feel the tips of my ears start to burn.

"The town is that way," Harry tells me, gesturing to the path that trails off to the right. He flicks his gaze back to me and my beetroot-red face. "Do you wanna head that way?"

I was just staring at the back of his head, so to be suddenly faced with his startling green eyes, it only makes me feel more flushed. I quickly turn away, nodding.

For some reason, I can hear Harry's expression turn into a smile, and then he gently tugs on my hand and we're off.

Noumea, New Caledonia, is a French settlement in the South Pacific ocean and home to almost one-hundred-thousand people of ample backgrounds. It's the largest city in New Caledonia, the most urbanised, and the most diverse. There's much to see and do, but with a cruise ship to return to by five, staying in this corner of the island is going to be the best idea.

The closest town is a mere twenty minutes walk away from the jetty, and by the time we arrive, our brains are fried. But as soon as I lay my eyes on the scenery, I am so motivated to whip out my phone and take a million photos and admire every single thing I lay my eyes on.

Small buildings, quaint huts, beautiful canopies, colours all around. The sun paints the path a golden brown, and as we wander through, we kick up the dust, specs of gold flying everywhere. Usually, when walking down a street, there is the buzz of traffic and the hum of everybody at work. Now, the only noises are the rustling of branches, the tweeting of birds, and the percussive music of this unfamiliar place. There's a rhythm to everything, and it's so unlike the clock ticking and tocking in a hectic city and the stressful sound of everybody having a place to be. Instead, it's people walking to a beat, children dancing to the music, birds singing high-pitched harmonies, and us in the middle of it all.

"Harry, it's so amazing!" I exclaim, unable to stop myself from smiling.

Frantically, I pull my phone to my face and snap an entire album-worth of photos. Then I take a pano, swivelling slowly in a circle, intending to end the pano with Harry. But by the time I turn to him, he's gone. The plan for my pano is ruined, but the pano isn't what I'm anxious about.

"Harry?" Suddenly, every person looks somewhat similar to Harry. Scarily similar to Harry. "Harry!" I call out.

No response. Instead, a small girl who looks to be about ten skips up to me and just stares as I yell for Harry. After my voice goes hoarse, I finally glance down at her and give her a smile that may break.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle," she says.

"Erm…" I did learn French in high school, but I may have forgotten most of it. "Bonjour, petite fille," I try.

She grins at me. "Vous-avez bien?"

"Ah…"

She glances behind me. "Cherchez-vous pour… Harry?"

My eyes light up. Maybe she knows where he went?

"Oui!" I say with the most confidence in the French language I've ever had.

"D'accord! Eh, bien. Je dois rentrer à la maison pour déjeuner!" she chirps, then shoulders her backpack and skips around me. "Bonne journée, mademoiselle!"

"Eh…?"

My eyes follow her as her figure disappears into the crowd, but then darkness slams down. I think for a second that the sun was too strong and actually managed to sizzle through my scalp and give me brain damage, but I can still hear everyone around me hustling and bustling like nothing's happening. Then I notice that something soft is covering my head and I'm shaded from the sun. Slowly, I reach up and let my fingers brush over thick strands of soft… grass?

When I lift it from my eyes, the sun blares in, and in front of me are Harry's disorientating forest green eyes.

"Sorry I left," he says. "I got you a hat." Two soft pats on my head.

All of a sudden, I feel the urge to press my face close to his and close the gap between us. I yearn to be staring deep into his eyes. But instead, I stand completely still, allowing a burning fire to light within me.