Pretty Please Don't Pinch Me

4. The (Non) Date

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"Right, I'm in charge. Hand over the keys." Harry demands casually as we head back towards the car, holding out his hand. I can't help but laugh at the manner in which he demanded, but I oblige and throw him the keys anyway.

It feels so unsettling to be the passenger in your own car. God, I hope he knows how to drive. He has trouble finding where the ignition is in the car and I point to where it is. This isn't exactly reassuring.

"Oh, right," he says, his eyebrows furrowed, and tongue absentmindedly poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration. "Can't have us being late to our date can we?" as he grins that boyish grin that's surely broken thousands of girl's hearts.

Internally, my body is singing at the mention of the word "date," but I'm quick to correct him. "You mean dinner?" I emphasise.

"Yeah, our dinner date." He states matter-of-factly.

I can see it's obvious that I'm never going to win, so I mutter something about him being obnoxious under my breath - just loud enough so he can hear, and let him think he's won. I'm both surprised and impressed that he's able to navigate himself back to the house that he's rented for his short stay without any navigational tools, and I'm slowly feeling a little more comfortable. We walk together to his doorstep, and I can't help but marvel at his home away from home. A modern, sleek building that wouldn't be more than a few years old. It's completely white, aside from the big black double doors, while ivy grows haphazardly up the walls. He reaches into his pocket for his keys and goes to put them into the keyhole before he hesitates.

"Do you mind if I quickly clear up a bit? I wasn't really expecting a lady visitor," he admits, grinning sheepishly.

I signal that it's okay, and can't help but find it so endearing that he's acting like a regular guy who's trying to do a last minute clean up. A few minutes go by and a slightly breathless Harry appears at the door, and invites me inside.

"Do you mind if I go change?" He asks politely. "A bit iffy in here," he grins, holding out his white shirt to air it out.

"Go for it," I shrug, as my eyes explore his temporary home.

I walk into a chic, comfortable living space. The rooms are very open spaced living, and is the perfect bachelor pad for... well, I guess the perfect bachelor. I also spot a grand piano in the corner, and some open notebooks which are covered in scrawlings that I'm assuming are song lyrics. I want to get a closer look without seeming too intrusive of his personal thoughts. My inquisitive nature gets the better of me, but I don't get a chance to look as I hear Harry's footsteps returning.

My heart skips a beat as he re enters the room wearing a navy blue t-shirt with his sleeves rolled up slightly, and a similar pair of black jeans that he had on earlier. How is it fair that he can be so effortlessly attractive?

"You play?" I signal over to the piano.

"I dabble," he responds as he lazily scratches the back of his head, and as he does so I can't help but peer at his chest, which is partially revealed. "I'm not like proper good or anything but I'm alright."

I follow Harry to the kitchen and sit myself down on one of the tall kitchen stools.

"Right," he says as he clasps his hands together and his demeanour changes into action mode. "I am going to make you the best meal of your life. I hope you're prepared to be dazzled by my skills," he winks. Gosh, he really is quite the character. He opens up the rather empty looking refrigerator and then idles over to the pantry and has a quick look.