Cut!

Take 26 - Stand Up - Part 5

A/N: Please comment as you read. It will help me write. 

I was surprised at how long the drive took. Glancing at Harry, I narrowed my eyes. “You’re not abducting me, are you?”

He smirked. “What if I was? Would you oppose to it?”

“Probably not,” I admitted with a smile.

“Then yes.” He chuckled. “I’m totally abducting you. At least for a few hours.”

“And you still don’t want to tell me where you’re taking me?” I sipped at the champagne. It wouldn’t work if I were complete wasted when we finally got there.

Harry laughed. “You’re not very patient, are you?”

I shook my head. “I was the kid who always searched the entire house for presents before Christmas Eve. It used to drive my parents’ nuts. They ended up storing presents at our neighbor’s house because of it.”

“You don’t talk much about your family,” he noted.

Looking away, I tried to whisk away the memory of my parents away. I didn’t want to ruin the mood. “I suppose I don’t, do I?”

“I’m not going to pry.” Harry took my hand. “Just know that if you need to talk—I’m here for you.”

I smiled at him. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

At last, the limousine slowed down, and I was eager to get out to see where he’d taken me. Harry laughed at my eagerness and crawled out first, offering me his hand.

Gratefully, I took it and ducked out of the car only to be completely mesmerized by the sight. A sign to my right told me the name of this restaurant.

Surprised, I recognized the name. Looking at Harry, I gawked. “How did you get reservations here?” I asked. “I read about this place—people need to book a reservation before they book the plane tickets in order to eat here.”

He shrugged. “Called in a favor.” Smiling, he placed an arm around my waist. “Do you like it?”

“Like it?” My eyes widened. “I love it. This is the only restaurant in the world to receive not five, but six stars from the culinary institute in France. They teach the food there, but even they don’t have such high ratings.”

In Portsmouth, one of Jackie’s friends had talked about this place for six months straight. He wanted to work here when he graduated, and it came to a point where he became so obsessed with making a perfect Crème brûlée that he almost burnt down our dorm’s kitchen area.

Harry guided me inside. “Wait here,” he said and walked over to talk to the hostess in a neat navy blue uniform. She smiled politely and gestured for him to follow her. Harry walked back to take my hand, leading me through the maze of people who was basically moaning every time they took a bite.

“I didn’t get a secluded room because I thought that it would ruin the feel of the restaurant.” Harry looked at me. “I can change it if you want it?”

I shook my head. This was perfect. It was one of the plus sides of being into photography: people watching seemed like a legit pastime at least ninety percent of the time.

Harry, as the perfect gentlemen he was, held out a chair for me, and I took a seat. I was facing the entrance, which suited me just fine. He sat down next to me, reaching over to hold my hand on the table. The butterflies in my stomach fluttered a bit, and I was afraid that I’d wake up any moment now.

“May I take your drink orders?” a waiter asked. He was dressed in a similar navy-blue suit, and he bowed for us.

I had no idea what to order, so when Harry looked at me, I simply shrugged. He chuckled. “Today’s red wine will be good,” he said.

It was still a lot to take in, and I looked around trying to determine what I thought of the place. I saw Harry stare at me and turning to him, I asked, “What is it?”

He shrugged. “Nothing. I’m just wondering what’s you’re thinking right now.”

I laughed. “I don’t think I’ve had one coherent string of thoughts since I stepped out of the limousine.” Gesturing around, I tried to find the right words. “I’m amazed—that’s all.”

“I’m glad,” he said. “My primary goal for tonight is to give you a date, you’d never forget.”

I leaned over the table, resting my head on my hands as I looked at him. “Who are you?” I asked.

He winked at me. “My name is Harry Styles—you may have heard of me? I’m in this really famous band, worth a shit load of money. Currently starring in a major motion picture.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not what I meant,” I said. “I meant… beneath all of that. Where do all of this”—I gestured to the table—“come from?”

Leaning in, he whispered. “I’m fairly sure it’s imported from China. These silken tablecloths don’t look native to Italy.”

I shook my head at him, trying to hold back a laugh.

Smartass…

“I meant… tell me something personal about yourself.” I leaned back in my chair.

“That’s a tough one,” he said. Looking up, he frowned. “What is it?”

I was completely frozen in my spot. My eyes had traveled around yet another time, and right there in the entrance, stood none other than Peyton Moon—Ludmilla’s ex-boyfriend.

“Crap,” Harry muttered just as Peyton spotted me.

After the initial shock, he smirked and wrapped her arm around his date. He leaned into the hostess, asking her something while gesturing to where we sat. She nodded, and too late I realized what he’d asked.

He was coming to sit right next to us. Sober. With a date and a ton of information about Ludmilla. I closed my eyes, wishing myself to wake up from this nightmare. As perfect as the start had been, I just knew that this was going to ruin everything.

Harry squeezed my hand, offering me little comfort. He didn’t know why it mattered, but I predicted that if Peyton got his will—then Harry would soon find out.

 A/N: Ninth update. One more to go, and I have two hours left. Bring those pompoms, guys. I need them. 

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