Chapter 18 #2
With uncertainty, Elliot turns to me with the question is his eyes.
My brain throws itself into a tailspin picturing sitting directly on top of Elliot’s shoulders with his hands on my thighs to steady me. I’ve only just got used to the feeling of him clasping my waist without combusting. It takes all of my willpower not to scream: absolutely not.
‘I don’t think so,’ I reply, trying to inject a casual tone into my voice.
‘That’s fine, we’ll just keep doing what we’re doing,’ he replies, matching my tone.
‘Alright, let’s go. All this mutant grass isn’t going to search itself.’
As Hennie and Owen follow a path to the right we veer to the left, continuing our process of searching manually and Elliot lifting me up to get a closer look at anything suspicious.
There’s a brief moment we think we might have a breakthrough after spotting a small hole in the side of one of the grass blades – but after putting my hand into it I realise it’s only home to a couple of insects and an old beer bottle.
I’m also starting to notice a light shake in Elliot’s arms after he lifts me for what feels like the millionth time.
I nod at his arms. ‘You need a rest.’
‘I’m fine,’ he says, bristling.
‘No, you’re not. You’re a human. And unsurprisingly your muscles are now starting to struggle with the burden of picking me up every twenty seconds.’
‘I don’t need a break,’ he insists, stubbornness grating his voice.
‘Fine. If your arms fall off, I’ll refuse to take any blame.’
He sighs, exasperated. ‘I hate to say it, but it would help if we even knew what we were looking for.’
Mentally, I agree with him but am determined to remain positive.
‘Chin up, champ.’ I tap him on the arm with an undeniably awkward air. ‘I have faith.’
We work quietly together, searching around hundreds of giant blades of grass; stumbling upon people eating together at picnic benches, endless selfie photoshoots, someone even sleeping peacefully in the shade and much to our embarrassment, a couple getting hot and heavy in a corner that they believed to be secluded.
We avoid eye contact as we navigate our way around them, only to be met with another identical mass of green grass.
‘Oh my God,’ I groan, throwing my head back in exhaustion. ‘This is some form of mental torture. I swear we looked around here already?’
‘I’m not sure about that,’ Elliot says, his gaze cast directly upwards.
I follow his eyes up to see a huge, ornately crafted seeded dandelion sitting proudly above the surface of the grass. My jaw falls slightly open. The white, glistening details that scatter outwards from the centre of it are almost blinding under the sun.
‘This place really masters the art of consistently surprising you,’ I say with awe.
‘Yeah,’ he says softly. ‘The best things do.’
‘I think I’m actually having a better time than I thought I would,’ I ponder aloud, wrapping my arm around a blade of grass and letting myself swing round it slowly.
He studies me, one side of his mouth lifting upward. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah.’ For some reason I avoid his eyes. ‘Are you? It’s your first Firecrest too.’
‘I am,’ he says simply, leaning back against another towering blade of grass.
‘I see why people struggle going back to normal life.’ I stop myself when I feel a little dizzy. ‘What will I do without my daily dose of mystery waterfall drink and treasure hunt nonsense? I’ll have to eat cereal and go on social media. I’ll be nothing.’
‘Yeah, Josh has been known to stay in bed the week after Firecrest because he doesn’t want to face reality. I kind of get it now. How it must be weird leaving somewhere like this behind… just to go back to your office or your gym or cramped house-share.’
I scrape out a laugh. ‘You’re dulling my mood a little, actually.’
‘Sorry,’ he says brightly, not looking sorry at all.
We carry on searching around us without any success. It’s impossible to deny that this clue has slowed us down, and despair slowly starts to seep in at the fact we’re probably losing our lead. If we ever had one.
‘I think I’ve officially lost my patience,’ I tell him. My awe from earlier has considerably dulled.
‘We’re due to meet back at Rolo’s now anyway,’ Elliot says. ‘Happy to go?’
‘Please. Let’s get out of here.’
Very grateful for the small signs marking the grass strands that point to the exit, we follow them through the meadow for what feels like hours.
Elliot is stopped right by the entrance by a pretty girl in her teens, who asks sweetly if he could take a picture of her.
He obliges and happily takes her phone to snap some pictures – even crouching low on the balls of his feet for a couple of shots to highlight the perspective of the meadow, much to her delight.
When he passes her the phone back she jumps up and down with glee as she flicks through the photos.
She thanks him again profusely as we start to walk away and Elliot just nods with a polite smile. I simply can’t resist making a comment.
‘What a hero,’ I say with a suave smile.
‘You want some pictures of yourself, princess, all you have to do is ask.’
I splutter with a laugh. ‘Oh God, no, thank you. I detest pictures.’
His brows pinch together. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I just… don’t like them,’ I reply with a shrug. ‘I mean, I don’t like taking them.’
He tilts his head at me and reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone. I can see where this is going immediately.
‘Oh no – photos will not be necessary, thank you–’ I start, frantically waving my hands at his phone.
He shoots me a smug smile. ‘Maybe I want to take a picture. Maybe I want to remember this moment. Will you not indulge me?’
‘Of all the moments this weekend, you want to remember that experience? Searching through this endless field of giant grass? The pain in your arms alone will serve you that memory on a silver platter,’ I say, tapping his bicep.
Looking down at myself for a moment, I realise I just touched him. Again. The idea that he might think I’m trying to flirt with him makes me recoil.
Smiling more genuinely this time, he twirls his phone between his fingers.
‘I’m afraid I’m not leaving until I get my photo,’ he says.
Instead of screaming, I slowly breathe out through my nostrils.
‘Fucking hell,’ I hiss, stamping away from him to stand rigidly next to a blade of glass. My shoulders are probably up by my ears.
He lifts his phone and immediately laughs at my stormy glare.
‘You can do better than that,’ he calls.
Keeping my face completely impassive, I flourish my arms out next to me, stiffly gesturing towards the blade of grass to my left.
‘Nora, come on. Just a tiny smile. That’s all I’m looking for.’
‘Wanker,’ I mutter, awkwardly flashing a smile and dropping my arms back down to my sides. I silently wish for death. Owen’s photos are fine – they’re candid ‘in-the-moment’ photos – I don’t even know when he’s taking them. This exercise makes my insides squirm with discomfort.
‘There we go,’ he says happily. ‘Do you need to swear at me more to feel better? Maybe get a real smile going?’
‘Don’t get me started,’ I reply, a genuine smile finally reaching my lips. ‘Or I may never stop.’
‘Sure? Get that resentment out. I stole your drumstick, remember?’
I wheeze, the laugh escaping me without warning. ‘Are you trying to get me to smile? Or attack you?’
He cackles in response, snapping photos all the while.
‘Alright, that’s enough. No paparazzi, please,’ I say, waving my arms. ‘Memory captured.’
He’s already holding out his phone towards me. ‘See? I think that’s a pretty good photo,’ he declares with pride.
I push his phone away without hesitation, rolling my eyes. ‘I’m sure it is. Nice job, champ.’
He insists, pulling his phone back up and holding it in front of my face. ‘No, seriously – this is a great picture, look at you.’
I scowl at him before briefly leaning down to look at the photo.
He snapped it as I was speaking, my mouth open and grinning and probably mid-swear.
While it certainly isn’t the worst picture of me ever taken, I have to admit that I don’t exactly love it either.
My arms are dangling awkwardly and my mouth is strangely crooked as I speak, but I also can’t deny that I look happy. Really happy.
He shoots me a smug look. I withhold a groan.
‘It’s a nice picture,’ he confirms, pocketing his phone.
‘Yes, yes. You’re highly skilled, well done,’ I say dryly, making my way towards the exit. I hear his light laugh before jogging to catch up to me.
As we head back into the main Jungle area, I rack my brain for ideas.
‘Maybe we should think about the clue again,’ I suggest.
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know, maybe there’s something we didn’t see. Something we didn’t pick up on the first time. We could be in completely the wrong place.’
Elliot repeats it and I am, once again, totally stumped.
‘I don’t know where else it could be pointing to but here,’ Elliot says with a shrug.
Rapid footsteps approaching us come to a stop as Josh suddenly appears next to us in a wild flurry of limbs.
‘There you are! Come on slackers, I found something.’