93 Chapter ninety-one

When I hear the door click closed, I feel myself fly straight out of the chair. I turn around. I have the whole cabin to myself for however long Harry's going to be gone. Of course I want him here with me, but now I can explore. Investigate. As much as I like.

My eyes grow wide.

The beds.

I don't remember which one is Harry's, so I go to each one, and take a whiff of the pillow. Then I recall that our sheets and pillows are cleaned practically everyday. I give up. And there's nothing under the pillows either! I thought if I were to find anything, it'd be under a pillow… but nothing.

I feel myself sway on my feet before I fall backwards into the bedside table. The knob of the drawer buries itself into my buttocks. I collapse onto the closest bed, groaning in pain. I'm wondering if I'll have a permanent, two-inch, circular-shaped dent in my ass when I realise that the stupid bedside table has drawers. I'm surprised to find that there is a lovely book inside.

Just as I settle down with it, flicking through the first few pages, Harry comes back holding two cups of water.

"Hey, Harry," I say, without looking up.

One second, the hardcover is in my hands, the next, it's not. I blink again and there's one of Harry's cups in my hand. I glance up. He doesn't say anything, but places the book gently on the bedside table and sits beside me. He stares at me, and I stare back, but it feels awkward so I take a sip. I mean, that's probably why he brought me the water. A weird slurping sound that I can't help but laugh at. Harry doesn't smile. Instead, he takes back the water, and I almost expect him to give me back the novel, but he doesn't. He's holding my hands.

"I shouldn't have let you drink."

"Drink what? The water?"

His mouth twists up on one side. "The beer."

"But it tasted good."

He sighs. "What's done is done."

I think for a moment, puckering my lips and moving them from side to side. "At least I get to spend time with you."

I think he's going to smile. He doesn't. I pout, then glance at the book.

"Since it looks like you're gonna keep me here a while, and you're not even gonna smile at me – and you know I love your smile – Can I read that book?"

He stares up at me through his fringe. What a sight for sore eyes! Actually, my eyes are sore. Maybe it wouldn't be the best idea –

"You think you can read while drunk?" he questions me.

Well, now I want to prove you wrong. "Yes."

His fingers brush my hair away from my eyes. "Do you feel uncomfortable?" he asks me.

I shake my head. Then immediately regret it. Note to self: don't shake your head while drunk ever again (it feels as if you are a Yahtzee! die.)

"Do you feel hot?" he continues. "Or cold?"

"My cheeks feel hot." I feel my cheeks. Then my nose. "And my nose." I touch my forehead. "And my –"

Harry's index finger curls under my chin, and he brings me closer to him. Or maybe he brings himself closer to me. I can't tell. Our foreheads knock together, softly. I stare into his green eyes, bright in the middle, murky around the sides, enjoying how close they are.

"Are you gonna kiss me?" I ask his eyes with my mouth. It was supposed to be telepathic communication, but my stupid brain made my lips move, not my eyes. Stupid.

He slides his head up; his eyes are in-line with mine. I grin a toothy grin. He doesn't smile back.

"Do you want me to?"

His breath is hot. My cheeks are hot.

"Do you want to?" I ask him.

"I want to," he breathes. No hesitation. Then I close my eyes. Then he pulls away. The air in front of me turns cold. "Lie down, Tasmin. You need rest."

I'm in my bed when I wake up, and Lilli's beside me, dabbing at my forehead with a cold towel. I flinch at the sting of the icy moistness against my burning skin.

"You're awake," she says. "Welcome back."

I flick the towel away, and a few drops land on my face. "Get that away from me."

She tsks at me. "You're burning up."

"I'll burn you if you keep touching me."

She laughs. "With what?"

I hmph. Lilli gets up and goes to the bathroom. When she comes back, she throws off my covers. I squeak in surprise.

"Since you're not burning up anymore, may as well get ready for dinner."

"It's that late already?"

I'm not burning up at dinner, but my skin feels prickly all over, even after I showered and changed my clothes. Harry keeps his eyes on me throughout, which feels like lasers beaming all over me. I'm tempted to climb across the table to slap my hands over his eyes and demand him to stop before I implode.

I feel a lot better after dinner, and the pit of gloom in my stomach is now just the pit of slight discomfort. The breath of the night swooshes through my lungs, and I feel like I could belt as clear and as loud as Luciano Pavarotti. We take two laps around the top deck, Emily taking my hands and sliding over the slippery surface with me, and Lilli scolding us for being unreasonably obnoxious and dangerous.

Charlie leaves with Lilli; they had booked a show for tonight in the theatre. Emily takes one glance at me and Harry before dragging Ben and herself off to get second helpings of dessert.

Apart from the soft grumbling of the engine in our feet, there's a humming of a hundred songs beneath us. I can almost hear the jazz band on Deck five from here.

Our first night was just like this.

Charlie took Lilli to a show. Ben and Emily went goofing off, whether it was to play Bingo with strangers or stuff themselves with dessert. Fairy lights. Cool wind in our hair. A fluffy feeling in my heart. And a hope for more.