Let's just go... (One Direction)

Everyone speaks english right?

"So what is the plan?" I ask him as we drive away from the hotel.

"There is no plan," he looks over and smiles at me, "the house is in Siena. That's about 4 hours from here. We'll meet everyone there," he turns back at the road.

"And do you know how to get there?" I giggle as he shrugs, "great, so we'll just get lost. Do you speak Italian?"

"Ciao. Grazie. Gradirei il tè con quello. Migliori fan nel mondo," he drums his fingers on the steering wheel.

"And that means?"

"Hello. Thank you. I would like tea. Best fans in the world," he chuckles.

"Great! Well this will definitely be an adventure!"

"That's what I planned!"

"Did you like the tour of Italy?" Harry asks me as he parks the car.

"Oh you mean the random turns that brought us to Verona for a few hours, then that left turn that lasted for a few hours to Florence," I stare at him, " I loved it." I smile at him as I get out of the car.

"This restaurant is rated number 1, I've eaten here once with Gemma when she came to visit," he points across the street to Osteria Vini e Vecchi Sapori, "It's delicious."

"Is that the time you were mistaken as a beggar?"

"Just because I had more holes in my jeans than actual material does not mean it's homeless worthy," he defends.

"Uh, it means exactly that," I laugh as his face drops, "my grandmother would steal all your jeans and put patches on them."

"The one in Portugal?"

"Yup, they might be there when we're there," I see his grin, "but I'm not sure. I'll find out when I go home, which shit I never called to book my flight."

"Do it later. You never know, plans change right?"

"What?" that didn't make sense...

"Hi, table for two," Harry asks as we approach the maitre d'.

"Sorry, only reservations," the man says in a friendly tone.

I look up at Harry and I can see an internal conversation, "Don't use your name. We'll find another place," I say as I put my hand on his arm, "Thank you," I smile at the maitre d'.

"Have a wonderful night," he says in reply.

"Can't have you being seen," I say as I grab his hand and pull him towards the Palazzo Vechio, "We'll find another place."

He points out a few stuffy restaurants that I just shake my head to. "This place looks great," he stops us in front of Enoteca Pinchiorri.

"Harry, we're definitely not dressed for there. And I don't want to spend that much money on food," I say as I read the menu on the side.

"It's not your money. And don't look at me like that," he stares at me, "I asked you out on this adventure. So it's my date."

"Fine," I turn around and scan the roads until I spy a smaller restaurant. I tug on his hand so he follows me down the street.

"Il Santo Bevitore, sounds great," he says as he holds the door open for me, "Two please," he asks the maitre d'.

"Of course, one moment please," the gentleman says in a thick Italian accent.

"Good thing they speak English," I laugh up at Harry, "I don't think I could live on only tea."

"Ha ha. We would be fine. You have your Portuguese," he looks down at me.