CAMDEN KENT
As Harry texted me to let me know he was on his way at 8:01 on the dot, I finished my cigarette and headed back into my flat to finish getting ready at the last minute. My face was bare apart from a bit of blush dabbed to the apples of my cheeks, and a thin coat of mascara layered on both sets of lashes.
I wasn't all that surprised to run into him last Sunday after I had caught a glance of his friends sitting down outside, but I'll admit that it was strange to see him again after knowing what I learned about him on Wikipedia.
For something of a small celebrity, he was as normal as he was the first night we met. Well, maybe normal wasn't the right word. He was still cocky and shameless, and still more attractive than I could quite comprehend.
As I rolled my perfume on and popped a piece of gum in my mouth, I grabbed my phone from my bed at the sound of a knock on the door. I wasn't as nervous as I was anxious to see him, mostly because I felt overdue for a good night of sex. After Owen, I had been using my vibrator quite a bit.
I opened the door to see Harry in a white cotton button-down shirt rather than his usual tee, which he left halfway unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled casually up his forearms to expose his tattoos. He took his time checking me out in my shorts and simple black bodysuit, pursing his lips in an attempt to conceal a smirk. Like I said, shameless.
"You ready?" He asked.
"Uh-huh," I adjusted my tote over my shoulder and stepped out to lock my front door.
He placed his hand on my lower back to guide me down the steps to the sidewalk, right to the passenger side of a shiny black Range Rover. He got the door for me, and I could hear him whistling to himself as he walked around the hood to get in on his side. I had yet to be in the front seat of anyone's car here, so it was beyond strange to be on what would have been the driver's side in America, with just a dashboard in front of me now.
"So what'd you do this week?" He asked, igniting the engine.
"Um," I sighed as I buckled up. "I worked a few doubles, went on a couple of runs when I had the time, got my groceries, and did my laundry."
"Where do you run?"
"Just on the sidewalks around my place," I explained. "I'll run a mile and then run back the same way."
"Hm," he nodded, signaling to make a right turn at the intersection. "Ever been to Hyde Park?"
"I'm not sure," I frowned in thought, "sounds familiar, though."
He told me it was a great place to run, as was Regent's Park, and proceeded to ask me where I got my groceries from. I gave him an odd look, which earned me a laugh as he shrugged like it was a normal question.
"Why do you wanna know?"
He shrugged with one shoulder, sitting back comfortably in his seat. "I'm just curious to know how an American gets along in London by themselves."
"I just Google, I don't know. It's not like I moved to a different planet."
"Isn't it, though?" He glanced at me. "America felt like a different planet to me the first time I went."
It was then that I decided to play dumb about already knowing what he did for a living. I'd be damned if I gave him the satisfaction of realizing that I did my research on him. "Where did you go?"
"Uh, well...pretty much everywhere," he said. "I've spent the most time in New York and Los Angeles, but I've been to just about every state at least once."
