And What If I Were You

Chapter 2 - Part 24

Saturday, June 16, 2016

La Petite Maison

Manchester

8.20pm. Date number two...

Harry straightens the cutlery in front of him for what must be the tenth time then spins the small vase with a single purple tulip fifteen degrees, ensuring its best side will be displayed for Louis. He's early, which is a lifelong curse, only by half an hour, but he's been sitting and languishing in his own nervousness for twenty-five minutes and he's about ready to vibrate out of his seat.

He's never been this worked up for a date before and he honestly can't fathom why he's struggling so much. It's not as though he's new to this dating caper, and it's not even his first date with Louis. There had been their initial meeting when Louis came to his house for the installation and then their first official date also at Harry's house, which had gone extremely well, even if Harry does say so himself. Perhaps that's the reason why. Things are going too well. Louis is too perfect. Not to say he's a perfect person, because nobody is, but rather that he's perfect for Harry.

He knew what Louis looked like before he met him, of course, having seen numerous pictures and bios and then there was little bit of social media 'investigation' he'd done over the years. Seeing him in person was a whole other experience and having him in his house was on another level still. Even his cat, Giselle, had warmed to him, and she doesn't like anyone (not even Harry most of the time, much to his dismay).

Louis is just so... God, he's wonderful. He's insanely talented, which Harry already knew, but he's not entirely sure Louis realises how talented he actually is, and that modesty is incredibly attractive. He's hilarious, like, genuinely witty, which reveals his underlying intelligence. Smart is the new Hot in Harry's humble opinion. He has a generous and infectious spirit, he's kind to animals, listens to really hear when Harry speaks, and has this way of looking into Harry's soul that would be unnerving if it wasn't so sexy. Oh, and he's drop-dead gorgeous, but that almost pales in comparison to everything else, and it's the everything else that Harry's really drawn to, like Louis has managed to spin him into his orbit and Harry can't escape, wouldn't even want to try.

So that's how Harry finds himself sitting at a table for two at La Petite Maison, bathed in candlelight, with sweaty palms as he awaits the arrival of his dinner date.

The 2-star Michelin restaurant is one of those places that is booked out months and months in advance and Harry had to call in every B-List famous person credential he possessed to get the reservation. The space is a lesson in understated elegance, exclusivity, and privacy. Each table is positioned against the curved outer wall with the ambient lighting designed to ensure that the diners at the tables on either side are invisible. There is a private server, dressed head-to-toe in black, assigned to each group as well - Stephen in their case - which makes it feel more like a First Class cabin than a restaurant in bustling Manchester. Dark curtains, tablecloths, paint and carpet, silver fittings, fixtures and cutlery, and the gentle bubble of water from the indoor zen garden and water feature complete the picture.

"Hey, you," a soft voice says, startling Harry from his reverie and he looks up to find Louis standing beside him, his beautiful blue eyes shining in the candlelight.

"Hey," Harry greets and beams a smile, standing up and pulling Louis in for a hug.

Louis takes his seat and their server, Stephen, lays the napkin on his lap and asks, "Can I get you something to drink?"

"I got us some champagne already, but feel free to order whatever you'd like," Harry offers.

Louis nods and picks up his empty champagne flute, holding it out for Stephen. "Champagne will do nicely for now, thanks."