11.6 | You're it

                                    

                                          
12th February 2019 (continued)
After lunch, as they all headed back upstairs to start thinking about packing, Harry sheepishly gave Eloise quite the early Valentine's Day present.
"Shit, H!", she gasped. "I've already got an anniversary, Christmas and your birthday to make up for, and now this?". Her beaming smile belied her playful swatting.
After saying goodbye to Ben, Jeff, Mitch and Tom outside the hotel, as they cram their suitcases into a taxi to head to the airport and back to LA, Harry and Eloise jump into one of their own.
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As much as it pains them to separate, even for an hour or so, conscious of the time and their flight early this evening, they part at the elevator with a sly peck. Harry peels off to the menswear department, and Eloise heads up again to womenswear.
In a wild dash around their respective floors of Matsuya, one of Tokyo's most luxurious department stores, they grab swimwear and holiday attire, accessories and toiletries, then meet back at the side entrance; each laden with bags and giddy with excitement for their impending, impromptu trip.
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Travelling halfway to LA, they stop off in the tropical paradise of French Polynesia for a two week holiday in Bora Bora, just the two of them.
Right in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, it's just about as remote as can be. 
After several connecting flights and a killer nineteen hour time difference, they arrive not quite knowing if they're coming or going.
But, thanks to their final mode of transport - a tiny private seaplane that lands on a picture postcard lagoon and pulls up to their over-water villa at the luxurious Four Seasons resort - they quite literally stumble almost straight into bed.
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22nd February 2019
Harry had certainly chosen paradise in which to recover from the jet lag. It's been nothing short of pared-back, barefoot luxury. Heavenly.
Sitting perched at the end of a snaking wooden walkway, suspended above the crystal clear, turquoise lagoon, their thatched, over-water, private villa has been their haven.
Inside, the enormous bed, and opulent bathroom with a huge sunken tub, have proved hard to drag themselves from, but the deck is more than tempting in itself. With a private plunge pool and hot tub, plush sun loungers, double hammock, and a cabana day bed, it even has its own steps, right down into the sea below. 
They were also appointed a personal butler - the lovely Manea - intent on catering to their every whim and fancy. So far, besides plying them with plenty of margaritas, he's sourced yoga mats, paddleboards and snorkelling gear, and arranged couples massages, bikes to explore the island, and even a sunset catamaran cruise. He's truly a wonder.
To Eloise's delight, they didn't even step foot on sand until nearly the end of their first week. And that was for a surprise private dinner on the beach. Harry's idea; but the flawless execution was all down to Manea.
Secluded, private and discrete, the resort has been fairly quiet, and they've been the youngest guests by at least fifteen years or so. They'd been conscious of feeling a few eyes on them in the bar or restaurants or while walking on the beach, but, refreshingly, no one has overstepped beyond curiosity.
They've only been approached for photos or autographs a couple of times - but it was more of a literal run-in each time, as they passed people on the narrow walkways linking the lagoon villas. And it seems their pleas to not upload the photos to social media for at least a few weeks have been respected so far.