Spilled Drinks

Then I decided to see what people said about his personality. I guess that he's covered in tattoos, which I guess makes him some type of womanizer, according to the magazines I searched online. I glanced at him now, searching his face for any hardness or bitterness. I did find some, which frightened me. Who knows how violent he got when he didn't get what he wanted.

I definitely didn't want to see that side of him."


6. Chapter Six

The lady who challenged me was wide-mouthed. I smirked back, then landed my eyes back on Harry. Why was he playing along?




We continued through dinner as if nothing had happened, me daintily spooning little bits of soup into my mouth. I looked up, noticing that Harry was looking at me with a slight smirk on his features. I ignored the nagging feeling that I kept getting, the feeling of regret and frightfulness. I smiled lightly at Harry, my eyebrows raising gently.

"What are you staring at?" I whispered, wiping my lips with a napkin and feeling in-between my teeth to check for any pieces of food that could've lost their way in my mouth. He shook his head, smiling at his hands on the table.

"Your eyes."

I waited patiently for him to explain himself, but he left it at that with a frown at his phone. He began to text something quickly, then slipped it back into his pocket of his black slacks, which were slimming on him-

Shut up Heather. None of this talk, nothing about him. I may be a fashion intern and all, but I can't start to think how fitting things are on the guy! It might change my whole perspective, and I didn't want my guard down just yet.

As I had a mini-freak-out, he continued to tap away at his cell phone, every once in a while smiling at something like it was the funniest thing in the entire world. I pondered whether or not to ask him, but right before I spoke, he looked up at me and caught my confused stare. Or creepy, either way I wasn't happy about it.

"It's a friend."

His answers were terrible, and I was positively sure he knew he was being a mysterious little ass. I smiled, pretending like I was fine with it. For some odd reason, however, I wasn't. This was our date, and he shouldn't have his phone out and messing around with it while I sat there by myself, picking away at my brain and confidence like an icepick.

"Ah. Friend." I said shortly, nodding curtly. His face puckered up, staring at me with an intense smolder, which I deflected by turning my head to the right so his gaze was right on my cheekbone. I casually turned back around, staring at my water glass. The condensation on the side was dripping onto the nice tablecloth, creating a wet circle. I moved the glass, creating a Venn diagram shaped watermark. Harry watched me, seemingly fascinated.

"What are you doing that for?" He inquired, pointing at the water stains. I shrugged.

Because you're being a bastard and leaving me nothing else to do! Why don't you conduct this 'date' like a gentleman! I didn't even want to be here in the first place.

"Want to ditch this place?" He whispered in my ear, causing me to flinch back at his close proximity. For the first time that night, I was entirely relieved by something he said. He called a waiter over and paid the bill, to my surprise.

"Men always pay the bill." He insisted, waving his card around. "Plus, celebrities get discounts."

Of course, I let him pay the bill. If he wanted to, he could knock himself out. His money, his choice, not mine.

I let him lead me out, staring at his curly head. I didn't know what it was about him, but it made me utterly worried to be alone with him, even though we were standing on the sidewalk.

"Want me to call Samson to pick us up?" He asked, pulling his phone out of his pocket. I got a better idea.

"How about we go the New Yorker way?" I suggested, smiling mischievously. He smirked, nodding and putting his phone back.

"Alright. Sound grand to me."

So, naturally, I hailed a taxi cab, whistling and yelling. "Taxi!"

Harry looked at me with a look of pure surprise etched onto his face. I ignored him, opening the door of the first taxi that pulled up next to me. I jerked my head to the inside of the taxi. "You coming?"

He nodded, slipping in quietly, as I followed close behind.

"Where are we going?" He whispered as the taxi driver waited for directions. I paused, thinking. We definitely weren't going back to the apartment-that-looked-like-a-mansion, so I decided to take us to the first place I went to when I came to New York for the first time.

"Rockefeller Center please." I smiled, leaning back in the seat. "The rink." The cab driver nodded, and took off at a dizzying speed, one that I was more used to. Harry obviously was not.

"Holy fuck-" He said, leaning into me as he took a sharp turn. I laughed, pushing him off me forcefully. He was too close, and I wasn't going to be polite about it next time.

We made it there in record time, the bright white ice gleaming at us, dazzling Harry. I'd seen it many-a time, so I handed the driver a few bills and hopped out of the car, pulling Harry along with me.


I only grinned, leading him to the little store that rented out the ice skates. Harry pulled away, leaning against the gate to stare at the ice with a little kid at a candy store look on his face.

"What size?" I asked Harry, who looked at me with a purely confused glance.

"Size? Of what?" He asked dumbly, his eyebrows scrunching on his perfect, angel-


"Your feet." I sighed, pointing at his giant feet. He looked down, realizing what I meant.

"Oh. Ten and a half."

So I got his size 10.5 ice skates and my size 8 ice skates, paying once again. I handed him his, immediately slipping my shoes off and putting the skates on. I laced them up, smiling as Harry fumbled with the laces.

"Here," I said, lacing his up as well. "Did your mummy not teach you how to tie shoes?" I mocked his accent, which in reality actually dazzled me.

"My mummy did, actually." He said, lacking a better comeback. I snorted, leading him onto the ice.

"Now skate."

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...