Pretty Please Don't Pinch Me

4. The (Non) Date

"I'm not going to lie," he says, slightly breathless as he kneels down by the pantry, "we don't have that much to work with..." He continues searching and finally he comes to a decision.

"How do you feel about omelettes?"

"Love them," I reply, giggling softly.

He then takes out some eggs, spring onion, capsicum and cheese from the fridge and I can't help but admire the view as he bends over. He turns around, and surely enough, I'm caught in the act. Just what I need! I try to look as if I was focused on something else in the same region, and hope that he hasn't seen me. I take a quick look at his expression to find out - Ugh. Too late.

"You little perv! Don't think I didn't see you checking me out!" he laughs in mock horror, as if taking offence.

"No! I- I was looking over there," I lie. Where is a nice big hole that I could jump into right now?

"You don't have to be embarrassed," he laughs as he sets the items out on the counter top. "I am after all irresistible to the human eye."

"You are absolutely so full of yourself," I laugh, shaking my head.

Suddenly, his phone begins ringing, and he motions that he needs to take it.

"Hey, what's up? ... Oh really? So Soon? What time do you fly in? ... Okay, well it's unlikely I'll pick you up because I've made plans, but take a car to my place instead ... Don't worry about that, I'll text you ... See you then mate."

"Sorry about that," he apologises, hanging up the phone. "That was my mate Niall. He and Liam are getting into Melbourne the day after tomorrow and they want to stay with me. They were planning on a hotel, but it's pretty obvious where we normally stay while on tour, so it would probably get a little crazy at times."

I can only imagine the amount of girls that would turn up to meet them, just waiting to see a glimpse of their favourite member. Though I wonder why he's telling me all about his in detail - perhaps it's a polite excuse as to why he won't be able to hang out anymore. Basically another way of telling me to make myself scarce. I decide not to let this new revelation affect my mood, and instead try and enjoy my time with him while I still have it.

We get back to cooking dinner and I go to grab an egg from the carton before Harry stops me from doing so.

"No, no, no. You're not lifting a finger my dear. Sit back down and await your delicious feast."

My dear. A rush of happiness runs through me.

"A feast? That's an interesting way of describing an omelet don't you think?" I sarcastically joke.

"Hey - that's enough from you," he flirtatiously warns as he points a whisk in my direction.

He shows off by cracking the egg one handedly and I can't help but notice pieces of eggshell dropping into the bowl.

"I can't sit by idly and watch you prepare what looks to be my last meal. At least let me do something."

"Alright fussy, you can chop these," he says as he pushes the capsicum and spring onion toward me. Except when he says 'fussy' it ends up sounding more like 'fossy'. I wonder how long I can pretend to be immune to that lovely accent for.

I look over at Harry as I continue chopping and watch as he carefully fishes out any eggshell pieces that have made its way into the mixing bowl. I can't actually express how endearing it is to see the amount of concentration he is putting into the task. I'm suddenly brought back to my childhood of when Mum and I used to spend time baking together. Being from such a close-knit family, I feel that quite a lot of our memorable and joyous times are experienced in the kitchen or through food. It's where we unwind, and catch up on each other's lives. Now that us kids are getting older, my parents have more time to focus strongly on their careers. In saying that, we all have an understanding that our number one rule is to all be present for Sunday dinner. Not showing up wouldn't mean the enforcement of a consequence per say, however it's a day that no one ever misses. No exceptions.