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TEN.

"Did I tell you that you look great yet?" Harry said as we sat at the table together. He ordered a salad and some kind of alcohol while I ordered pasta and a lemonade. He was right, this restaurant was amazing. We were secluded behind a curtain which was a little strange to me but I liked it. The table we sat at had a big plush booth and a long table.

Harry's compliment made me blush. "Thank you, I couldn't find anything to wear so I stole this from my mom." I admitted. He took a sip from his glass. "Oh really? Well I'll have to take you shopping sometime."

I knew Harry had a lot of money but I would hate for him to spend it on me. I absolutely loved gifts and shopping but Harry wasn't that kind of person to me. We'd only just met about a week ago.

The conversation was at an awkward pause, both of us just staring at one another. I took in his looks as nonchalantly as possible. Today he wore a white button up shirt with black piping on the seams, matching his black slacks. I noticed he had a habit of playing with his lips and his rings. He spun his rings around on his fingers without even looking at them sometimes. I found myself wondering why he wore so many. They were so bulky and large and I bet they got in the way a lot.

I watched him drag a hand through his aesthetically messy hair and lean back into the cushion.

A waiter suddenly appeared out of nowhere and served us our food. Thank god he saved us from another silent second. I dug into my pasta and smiled happily.

As dinner went on, Harry started asking questions and making small talk. "Do you have any siblings?"

"No. Do you?"

"Yeah, a sister. She lives in England where I'm from."

"What's it like owning a big business at a young age- how old are you?" I curiously asked, not caring if it came off as a random or rude question. I genuinely wanted to know the answer.

He didn't seem surprised by the question, in fact he answered quicker than I thought. "28." He paused and asked in return, "how old are you?"

"17."

I watched him nod his head and stay silent. "Is that weird?" I asked shyly.

"Is what weird?" He said with a straight, unreadable face.

"Us, at dinner together and me at your apartment that one time."

"Why would that be weird? This is just- friends. I'm your father's boss and you're his daughter. We're friends." He sounded unsure, as if he was trying to convince himself as well.

I nodded in reply and drank the last of my lemonade. I was glad it wasn't awkward for him. Friends was alright with me, but if my parents ever found out, they'd be livid. I don't think they would see the same 'friends' relationship. Neither of them knew I've even kissed a boy yet. They've always been against me growing up and dating.

As I was drifting around through my thoughts of rules, strict parents, and odd relationships, I felt something touch my knee. My eyes darted up to meet Harry's. His hand was still rested on my leg, unmoving. I could feel his warm skin and cold rings. My heart seemed to stop beating for a second when it started to creep up higher. What was he doing? Right after he convinced me that we were strictly friends! I don't think friends do this sort of thing.

I pulled my leg back away from his wandering hand under the table, still staring into his eyes. I broke the staring contest and looked at my lap instead. Damn he was so intimidating. I tried to keep the pink tinge off of my cheeks but failed miserably. "Sorry. That was highly inappropriate of me. Pretend that didn't happen, okay?"

I whispered an okay and stood up from the table. "Can you take me home now?"

"Sure, sweetheart."

He left a big bill on the table as a tip and led me to the parking lot outside to his car.

The ride was quiet as usual but my brain was anything but. He kept calling me pet names and doing little things that made me think he liked me. Why me? I was a mere child to him. I was a slut, messing around with all the boys I wanted and going to parties. What could he possible see in me? I still didn't know what to think of him. Sure, he was rich and good looking, but he was also intimidating, dangerous, and old. I could get in a lot of trouble if I was even just simply seen with him.

Maybe I was overthinking it all? He didn't really like me, maybe he just wanted to fuck me like all the dumb boys I surround myself at parties. My thoughts drifted to that book I read a little while ago, 'Lolita'. About an older man loving a younger girl. Maybe he had one of those kinks. My body froze up at the thought. That would explain it! The names, the little touches, and the staring.

I glanced over at him in the driver's seat. His eyes glued to the road. I noticed he was clenching his jaw and had a slight frown. He must be thinking hard as well. My house came into view outside the car window. Do I say something to him or just get out? The two sides of me were fighting back and forth. Fuck it. I acted with the irrational one.

I leaned far over the car console and pressed my lips to his sharp cheekbone quickly. "Thanks for the dinner."

I hopped out of the car and took one last look at him before shutting the door. His eyes were wide and there was a faint lipstick smudge on his face. I quickly walked over to my climbing terrace.

Two can play at that game. If he wants to call me baby and take me to dinner, might as well seal the deal with a cheek kiss. The gesture could be taken however he wants but part of me hoped it bothered him and left him thinking hard.

...........

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