Chapter seventy-four

Harry and I take the long way back to town, passing swiftly through the soft brush and under the canopy of thick palm leaves, rather than pass by that man on the path again.

I can't stop thinking about the near-kiss as Harry and I pull each other along, and I close my eyes multiple times to just reimagine how close his lips were to mine. When he isn't looking, I brush my hand over my cheeks, embarrassed at how hot they are. I stare at the back of Harry's head as we leap and dodge and run through the bush, begging him internally not to turn around and see that the girl he's hanging out with is a tomato.

We emerge out of the trees after a solid few minutes of intense parkour and wander into the town center. It is as busy as it was before, and Harry's newfound confidence is starting to scare me a little, because his hand slides into mine, and I feel the goosebumps race up my arm at the speed of light. I clear my throat, trying to ignore the shake in my knees.

"So…" I say awkwardly. "What should we get for lunch?"

"Anything but tea," Harry replies, then turns away, like he wishes he doesn't have this newfound confidence. "Coffee, perhaps?"

"You know, Harry," I start, grabbing his shoulders and turning him to face me. "I don't care what you're keeping from me. If it's valid, it's valid. You have the right to keep whatever it is from me till the day I die." Where was I going with this? "And I know I can be… a bother —"

"You're not."

"— but it's only 'cause I care. I wanna help. So… I don't know, just remind me when I lose it, okay?"

"I'm going to tell you."

"Exactly right, you'll just have to remind —" It takes a moment to register his words. A smile creeps onto his face. "Wait, what?"

He lets out a soft chuckle and looks me straight in the eye. I think my retinas just imploded, but I stay absolutely still, listening intently.

"I said – I'm going to tell you." He lifts my left hand from his shoulder, letting his fingers trail down my arm before linking them with mine. "But I fancy fish and chips right now."

"Harry," I whine, dragging out his name.

"What? Didn't you say I could keep it from you till the day you die?" I stop walking, and I let him tug on my arm once or twice. "What is it, Tasmin?" he asks, this time serious.

I give Harry a dramatic sigh and say, "I don't understand you."

In response, a weary smile registers. "You will."

"God, I hope," I say, tugging him along again. "'Cause it keeps me up at night."

"You think about me at night?"

I feel the heat on my cheeks. But then I see the smirk on Harry's face and I grunt, nudging my elbow into his side.

"Ow, that hurt," he informs me, gripping the spot I hit. "You should be a spy."

"Hmm," I hum. "I'd rather be a ninja, to be completely honest."

The expression he gives me is almost like a pout, so I say, "Well, no offence, but I think being able to silently kill someone and get away with it would be the craziest, most coolest thing ever, no?" When his facial expression doesn't change, I continue, "And the outfits are the coolest."

"So…" Harry says. "You don't like spies?"

I throw my arms in the air. "What kind of question is that, Harry?" I laugh out loud. "I mean, I don't even know a spy, so how would I be able to answer that, hm?"

Harry's shoulders rise in a slow shrug. "Take a wild guess?"

"Big deal. It's not like I'd know a spy even if I've met one. I mean, they're supposed to go undetected. How would you know if you've met one?" This conversation is rather unusual, but amusing nonetheless.

An eyebrow raise from Harry. "Really? 'Cause that tuck-roll you did earlier was so sneaky, I nearly thought you were going to quick-attack me or something."

"Oh, that? Seriously?" I blush a little, thinking about Harry thinking about me, then mentally-slap myself. "All dancers have to be able to do a forward roll. It's, like, common knowledge by the time you're four."

Hands up in surrender. "Well, sorry I didn't do dancing."

"You remember all that dumb ballroom dancing from primary school, which is both impressive and enough to give me permanent secondhand embarrassment."

"How could I forget that?" Harry says, like it's so obvious. "I danced with you…"

I'm honestly scared for both mine and Harry's life, because the owner of the fish and chip shop across the street looks in dire need of more tomato sauce, and Harry and I are looking suspiciously like tomatoes.

Miraculously, after an unusual turn of events packed into a single day, Harry and I breeze through a normal conversation during lunch.

"Can I steal a chip?" Harry asks, and I nod at him.

I watch as his hand slides across the table, but just as he's about to reach over my plate, he places it on my hand. I glance up and his green eyes are staring back at me. I feel my heart kick up a notch. You'd think that the number of times I've caught him staring would render me used to it, but I'm not.

We find ourselves falling in love with the scenery, snacking every hour, taking walks through the bush, town and on the sand, but by the late afternoon my legs feel like mush. Nevertheless, just as I'm about to suggest that we hitch a ride back to the ship, Harry leads me back towards the beach.