Chapter eighty-seven

"Do I look tired?"

"No," he mutters suddenly, somehow surprised. "I was just wondering i-if you wanted to head back to the cabins?"

I shrug. "Up to you. Let me finish this tiramisu real quick."

"So," I start. "Which cabin?"

The light in the hallway is blinding. I long to be in my cabin, curled up in a burrito of warm sheets, admiring the small fairy lights Emily hung up over the walls and through the railings of her bed.

"Mine," Harry says, already pulling out his ID card.

I start to follow him, then stop. No one knows what the boys could've done in there to make the place slightly below the level of decent living. Instead, I pull him towards mine, sliding giddily inside after scanning my keycard, flicking on the lights. Harry flicks them off as he passes the switch, and I turn to give him a questioning look, but he doesn't meet my gaze. I slip into the bathroom, closing the door behind me, running my fingers through my hair. Is it too oily?

Harry and I haven't been this alone, for this long. And although it's been less than a week, each day has seemed like an entire year. Maybe it's instinct, for us to cram so much into a day to make the most of this small time in the universal clock spent together. As I stare blankly into the mirror, a migraine made of my thoughts whirling in my head, I let myself release a shuddering sigh. I don't know what comes next, and I really don't know what to make of Harry, except for the fact that I don't want whatever it is to end.

Tap-tap-tap.

Three soft knocks on the bathroom door. I didn't even get time to splash water on my face, but I nod stupidly, then say, "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

I clear my throat so he can hear me. "What is it?"

"Oh." There's a long, jarring pause. "Nothing."

What do I even say…? "I'll be out in a minute."

My face still burns, in fact it burns even more after throwing water on it, and the towel's surface is rough; my face stings, and so does the rest of me. When I emerge from the bathroom, I get the idea that I look even worse now than when I went in. Harry's by the right bunk, a hand gripping the railing, leaning against it, staring at the lights on Emily's side of the room. I step beside him.

"What do you think?" I ask.

He sighs. "It's nice. They look very familiar though."

I chuckle. "You're right, Emily bought them from Target."

He laughs as well. "Very aesthetically-pleasing." Silence. "Have you thought about taking some photos and uploading them on social media?"

"I think Lilli already has an album in her photo album dedicated to just lights," I say. "But if anyone were to take photos, I'd hand the job right over to Jamie, Zee-Best-Photographer-In-Zee-World."

I laugh, and Harry grins, the expression between a smile and a strained laugh. I realise how much I freaking love when he smiles, even when he's struggling to muster anything genuine. If I could, I'd pay Jamie all my allowances and all my part-time job pays, just for him to provide me with a photo of every time Harry smiled, grinned, smirked. Then I'd collect the photographs, and hang each one on my wall, and cover the whole freaking thing, because I want to see it the moment I wake up, the moment I go to sleep, and every minute of every day.

I don't realise how close I am to him until I feel his warm breath in my hair, and his chest centimetres from mine. It expands in front of my eyes, and the edges of my vision grow blurry in my drowsiness. I didn't realise how very tired I am, and how much Harry's chest looks like a pillow. My pillow.

"Do you want to sit down?" he asks, ever so softly. And his voice sounds so close to me, I shudder, savouring the sound. Funny how sounds are just waves of vibrations, travelling invisibly through the air, bouncing off of objects. And weird how certain vibrations are just so sweet to listen to.

I raise my head to look Harry in the eyes, the vibrant green still there, in amongst the dark pools of shadow also there, surrounding his pupils tightly. I nod my head, my eyes falling closed.

He nods towards my bed. "Up there?"

I hum in response.

"Wait! No…"

I wander away from Harry, towards the wardrobe, sliding it slowly open and rummaging through a drawer. Harry comes up behind me to look at what I'm doing, so I really don't expect two arms to wind around my middle. I feel him press up against me.

"Harry…"

"Sorry."

"Everything okay?"

He nuzzles his nose against my back, and the gesture makes my spine shiver.

"Harry…"

"Hm?"

I don't know what to say, because my vocal chords don't seem to be working, so I grip tight the clothes I've chosen from the drawer and swivel around in Harry's grasp. His gaze catches mine, and I almost keel over as he stares. His hips meet mine, and the shelf of the wardrobe meets my lower back. I want to call out, but nothing escapes my mouth as his face comes closer to mine. His eyes are completely in shadow now, but the light of the bathroom glows on his cheeks, and I haven't ever seen him so focused.

I replace the clothes in my hand with Harry's cheek, sliding my fingers over his temple, still watching his eyes, then his furrowed brows, then his parted lips. I'm so close to him I can feel our hot breaths smashing against each other, congealing.

His breath is louder in my ears, so I hear that before I hear the phone ring. Neither of us moves from where we are, but we both stare at the cabin's telephone, screaming at us.