i went back to school yesterday. spent my first night getting drunk and then getting lost in my dorm building. what a way to start the school year, am i right?
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Chapter 20
City Girl's POV:
"I have a question."
Glancing up from the manuscript I was currently working on, I caught sight of Harry walking from down the hall where he had just used the bathroom, dressed in his usual black jeans and a printed Hawaii shirt that I still couldn't believe he could pull off. "Which is?"
He narrowed his green eyes in curiosity, sitting on the coffee table right across from me as I sat curled comfortably on the couch. "How d'you feel about the Sugar Factory?"
My brows raised, red pen pausing above where I was about to make a correction. "I don't go there much but I love it, why?"
Harry linked his ring clad fingers together, the cross tattoo on his hand visible as he rested his arms on his knees. "Think it's a good spot for our first date?"
I blinked, wondering for a moment if he was serious but the inquiring expression on his face told me that he was. Letting out a light yet incredulous laugh, I couldn't help but ask, "Really? You actually wanna go out on a date? Won't that be risky?"
He, however, waved me off as he smiled charmingly. "I'll make some calls, make sure we're not seen. Won't be too difficult," he assured, looking completely carefree.
"You do know that the Sugar Factory is one of the busiest restaurants in New York, right? There's still a big chance you'll be seen," I informed him, because as much as I wanted to go out on a proper date with Harry, I also knew how much his privacy meant to him. It was one thing revealing himself to my family and friends, it was another to be seen out in a public restaurant by just anyone with a cell phone who could expose his whereabouts.
Just the other day there was an article in People magazine wondering about the prince's whereabouts, where 'sources close to the royal family' said he was taking a private vacation at an undisclosed location. If only everyone knew he was in one of the biggest cities in the United States; if he was found out, I don't think just Dave would be enough to protect Harry from the paparazzi.
Harry smirked knowingly, tilting his head to the side slightly as he mused, "If you don't want to go on a date with me, Vera, just say so." He was kidding, that much was obvious from his glinting green eyes, but I still sat up and shook my head.
"Of course I do," I told him, putting the script and my pen on the couch next to me. "I just wanna make sure that you're sure."
"Love," Harry spoke, his voice deep as his hands unlinked with one another and grasped mine. They were so much bigger than my own, enveloping both of mine easily as his warm hands held mine, skin tingling at the contact. "There's no question about it. Besides," he added with a boyish grin, "going on dates s'what normal people do, innit? It'll be fun."
A smile appeared on my lips, glancing down at my hands where Harry's thumbs were rubbing circles on the back of. I pressed my lips together to stop my smile from growing before looking back at Harry and nodding, "Alright, I'm in."
A pleased and happy grin spread on Harry's face, showing off his dimples denting his cheeks. My stomach flip-flopped and I, too, could suddenly feel happiness spread through me, no matter how cheesy that sounded. After yesterday, when I told Harry that I wanted to be with him and after he kissed me once again, I couldn't stop smiling because of how happy I was.
I had spent the weekend thinking about Harry and wondering if it was a good idea to be with him, but eventually I decided that who cares if it was a good or bad idea? If it was something that I thought would bring me happiness, then I should go for it and screw any negative connotation that my mind could come up with. Sure, I didn't know Harry for too long, but what I did know was enough for me to like him a lot, and I don't think my feelings for him were going anywhere.
Fear of things getting complicated made me hesitant at giving things a chance, but ultimately I realized that was just me psyching myself out and giving me unjust reasons to not move forward with my feelings for Harry. For so long I had complained to my mother and friends that all of the guys I had been involved with were totally wrong and not what I was looking for, and here enters a boy who was too good to be true and an actual prince. It all seemed unreal.
Until I got it through my head that this was real and it was my reality, and that the Prince of England wanted to go on a date with me. Only, over the course of knowing Harry, I had quickly stopped seeing Harry as a prince and seeing him as just the man who lived in an apartment on the floor below me and had become a fast friend. When I realized he was just a guy who happened to have a big title, I realized that I had nothing to be afraid of. That's when I decided to give Harry—and myself—a chance and to say yes.
"Okay," Harry grinned, suddenly looking excited as he sat up, hands still lightly holding mine as he quirked a brow, "Tomorrow night sound good?"
I nodded, my own smile widening. Really, any night of the week worked fine for me because our office building was closed off due to termite infestation, so we weren't to go for a week or so. Instead of finding another place to work from, Teresa told us to take home any and all scripts we had, especially ones with deadlines coming up, and work from home. We were to drop off finished scripts at her home because she had a home office she liked to work out of, and although the situation was bizarre, it was better than relocating everyone with new office spaces.
"Alright, no more," I sighed in annoyance, closing the script I was working on and putting it on the coffee table where Harry had previously been sitting, shaking my head. "If I read anymore I think my brain will melt."
Harry chuckled in amusement, coming to sit down next to me as the couch dipped under his weight and my body involuntarily shifted towards his. I was pressed to his side as Harry's hands grabbed my legs under my knees, skin meeting skin, before moving them to rest on his lap, a smile appearing on my lips as his green eyes met my dark ones and asked, "How 'bout a movie?"
Giggling lightly, I tried not to think about the heat spreading across my cheeks at our proximity, picking up the remote and switching the television to Netflix as Harry's fingers lightly drummed on my bare legs. Guess I picked the right day to wear shorts.
We surfed through the many Netflix options for a little bit until deciding to watch The Babadook. Since I was sitting sideways on the couch with my legs on Harry's laps and our bodies pretty close, I leaned my left side on the back of the couch and rested my cheek against Harry's right shoulder, surprisingly finding the position comfortable as the scent of pine whatever shampoo Harry used filled my senses pleasantly. I couldn't pinpoint what exactly Harry smelled like, but all I knew is that it was quite an attractive smell.
The movie was watched in silence, both of us occasionally making comments about the characters. When the actual Babadook made an appearance, Harry's face scrunched up as he pressed himself back on the couch, muttering in a thick accent, "That's fuckin' creepy."
I only laughed softly, eyes still focused on the TV. As we watched the movie, I realized that nothing between Harry and I had really changed. Sure, it was only the day after we decided we wanted to be together, but still. We were still at our apartments, watching television together and having lazy conversations—the only difference was our proximity. Usually we'd be sitting next to each other in a respectful distance. Now, my legs were on his lap and cheek on his shoulder as his arms rested upon my legs. The level of comfort was still there, only heightened.
When the credits rolled around, I glanced at Harry, whose face was scrunched in confusion as his eyes remained on the TV and his lips parted. "So. . . Wait; the Babadook is their pet now? 'S that it?" he questioned, looking utterly puzzled as he stared at me with puzzled eyebrows.
I couldn't help but chuckle at his bewilderment, using the remote to go on the main home page of Netflix as I shrugged lightly. "That's what I always figured," I told him, grinning at the way he shook his head, prompting some locks of his hair to fall across his forehead. Instinctively, my hand reached up and lightly brushed them away, ignoring the way Harry's green eyed gaze locked on me and the heat of blush that was surely spreading from my neck to face. "Why have a dog when you can have a literal monster as a pet?" I joked, snorting as Harry snickered.
"Vera, you screamed last week when you saw a caterpillar in the hallway, you think you can dig up worms to feed to your pet monster?" Harry mused, a shit-eating grin on his face as he leaned his head back a little to look at me pointedly.
My jaw dropped at his words, although embarrassment did wash over me briefly as I thought back to what he was referring to. Sue me for disliking any and all types of creepy crawlies; there was a point in my life I was even afraid of butterflies until Mama forced me to face my fear by taking me to a butterfly garden. I was no longer afraid of those, but anything smaller than a teacup pig was a no-no for me.
So in response to Harry's dig, I pinched his bicep, prompting the grown man to let out a very girlish yelp and left me feeling satisfied.
*****
At six twenty-five in the evening, I gave myself one last look over in the mirror, making sure I looked good. Straightened hair and makeup done to my likeness stared back at me as I gazed at my outfit; a dress that was black on the top half with spaghetti straps and a fuchsia color for the skirt that stopped a few inches above my knees. I released a breath through my lips, trying to calm my nerves as I smoothed down the dress and deemed myself ready.
I was wearing black platform heels that weren't that high, so they wouldn't give me too much of a height and a Michael Kors black bag that Mama had gotten me for my birthday last year. Grabbing a jacket since I knew it'd be chilly out, I patiently waited for Harry to arrive as he had said he'd be here at six-thirty. I told him I could meet him in the lobby, but he insisted on coming to pick me up at my own apartment.
Tonight was the night of our first date, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel at least a little nervous. Isn't that the point of first dates, anyway? Nerves wracking up because you're going to be spending some intimate time with a person you really like, and also to see the potential of a full relationship. Truthfully, I would've been fine with a dinner at one of our apartments, and I had told Harry that, but he had been insistent on actually going out to a proper restaurant and dining out. He said he wanted to give us both the real experience, and I couldn't help but find it endearing and agree.
At precisely six-thirty, true to his word, there were knocks sounding on my door and I walked over, trying not to seem too eager as my heels clicked on the floor and I opened the door. And, holy shit, was I not prepared for how he looked on the other side.
Harry stood wearing an all black ensemble, with a slick black shirt and black jacket on top, the velvet material of the lapels visible under the hallway lights. The black trousers literally had red dragons embroidered in the pants legs towards the bottom, and his black shoes and several rings on his fingers completed the look. He truly looked like some type of Glam God, and it may or may not have made my knees quiver a bit at the sight of him.
Apparently, similar thoughts about myself may have been running through his mind because both of us, simultaneously, breathed out, "Wow."
My lips pressed together, suppressing the smile threatening to grow while Harry let himself grin widely, looking amused as I could feel my cheeks heat up. My face always sprouted a blush where it concerned Harry. After practically drooling over how he looked, I realized that Harry was holding a single light pink colored rose, and when he noticed my gaze on it, Harry held it out. "I wasn't sure how you felt on the whole flowers on a first date debacle, but you can never go wrong with a pink rose, hmm?"
I grinned, knowing he was referring to the latest conversation everyone was having, which I had read about a few days ago. Apparently people thought bringing flowers on a first date with someone was a bad idea and meant no second date, whereas I thought the complete opposite. Give me flowers any time, anywhere, and I'd be a happy woman. Flowers were beautiful to me, and the morbid side of me even liked looking at dead flowers. But that type of information can be revealed on a third or fourth date.
"It's beautiful," I assured Harry with a light giggle before adding, "Let me put it away and we'll go."
He let himself in as I walked into my bedroom, approaching the vase of flowers I kept on a shelf in the corner. Once putting the rose in with the rest of the flowers, I walked back to the living room where Harry was, eyes meeting mine as he smiled, "Ready?"
I nodded, smiling, as we left my apartment and I locked it behind me before walking to the elevator with Harry. My heels didn't give me much of a boosted height so Harry was still taller than me, which was perfectly fine with me because I kind of loved looking up at him. The elevator opened up to the lobby where we found Dave waiting for us, and after greeting us, he led us to the car that was right outside.
Harry joined me in the back as Dave drove us, the vehicle's tinted windows making the outside word darker than it seemed. As we drove, I looked at Harry and asked, "So how're you pulling this off? Keeping your identity private or whatever?"
"Well," he cleared his throat, pausing from twirling a rose-like ring on his finger. "The restaurant has this upstairs area that they keep closed for private parties and such. I called them and sort of gave away who I was so they could keep the place reserved just for us, so the only person who'll see us is whoever's our waiter."
My brows lifted at his explanation, surprised that he so confidently let the people at the restaurant know that the Prince of England was going to be one of their customers tonight. But I wasn't going to question it, because Harry knows what he's doing, especially when he added, "Plus, Dave's called some people from the company he works for and extra security will be hidden around the place."
I chuckled lightly, nodding along as I mused, "Good to know."
Harry's right hand then grasped my left one, and I glanced down at our hands as our fingers linked together, feeling a warmth spread across my chest as he assured confidently, "It'll be great, love. Not to worry."
Squeezing his hand, I returned truthfully, "I'm not. Just excited."
That got him to smile dimply, returning a squeeze before I looked out the window, watching as we drove down the busy streets of New York. The sun didn't set until around seven-thirty, but the lights on the buildings in the city were bright and gleaming, with people walking under them on the sidewalks and cars trying to make their way down the busy streets. I didn't like going around New York in a car, it defeated my enjoyment of the city which was supposed to be felt by walking through its streets and riding subways, but right now I didn't mind being in one with Harry sitting next to me.
We arrived to the Sugar Factory in the Meatpacking District in twenty minutes, and before stepping out of the car, Harry put on a pair of sunglasses. It wasn't dark out yet but we didn't have the sun shining down on us, yet I understood the reason for his shades was more so for hiding from people rather than the sunrays. I don't know if they'd do him much good, but it was up to him.
Harry opened the door, telling Dave he'll let him know when to come by to pick us up, before stepping out and holding his hand to me to help me out. There were people seated in the outdoor section of the restaurant, but no one actually looked our way as we headed towards the black doors. Guess no one was expecting the Prince of England to drop by.
Inside, there was a small section where different types of candies were on shelves for people to buy and the host was behind a counter, behind him was the entryway to the large room where everyone was seated. Loud music was playing, drowning out the noisy chatter of everyone as Harry approached the hostess, sunglasses still on as he shot the woman his charming smile. "Hello," he glanced at her nametag before continuing, "Jessica. We spoke on the phone yesterday about my reservation?"
I guess he didn't really need to say who he was—his accent, if anything, was a dead giveaway—and the hostess, Jessica, looked kind of star struck as she realized who she was speaking to. But, much to her credit, she managed to regain her composure as she smiled and nodded, grabbing two menus as she said. "Yes, of course," she said professionally, walking around the counter as she said, "We have your table ready. Follow me, please."
She walked past us, and Harry, even behind his sunglasses, wiggled his brows at me and I couldn't help but laugh lightly as we followed Jessica. We walked to different entryway that led us to a black staircase, going upstairs as I gazed at the wall by the case; completely framed with photographs of celebrities that had come to this place. Everyone from the Kardashians to Drake and Pitbull. It wasn't surprising, since this was one of the most popular places in New York City to come eat at.
When we reached the second floor, I saw the familiar chandelier that hung above the staircase area as Jessica led us to the large yet empty room where the music playing downstairs was still heard but not as loud, thankfully. All the tables were empty, properly reserved as she showed us to a table for two literally in the center of the room. There were chalkboard drawings of burgers, milkshakes, and other sweet foods lining up the walls of the room, as well as mirrors as Harry and I sat down across from each other and he took off his sunglasses.
As Jessica handed us our menus, we thanked her, and she smiled. "Your waiter, Fernando, will be with you shortly. Enjoy!"
She then walked off, disappearing down the stairs as I looked at Harry, unable to help the impressed expression from my face. "You really pulled all the stops for this, didn't you?" I questioned, grinning as I opened the menu to the drinks.
Harry chuckled, sitting back in his chair as he opened the menu. "D'you know this is the first date I've been on in, like, a year?"
My eyebrows shot up, meeting his gaze as shock replaced my expression. I truly hadn't been expecting that statement. As the Prince of England, I just figured he several likely women to go on dates with, but to know he hasn't been on one in a year is kind of astounding. "Seriously?" I asked, the surprise not hidden in my tone.
He nodded, eyes on the menu before flickering up to meet mine briefly. "My mum was the one always trying to get me to go out with a daughter of some man with a good standing in the city. Every party was practically about Mum hoping I'd meet someone. Quite annoying, really, so I always snuck off during most of them."
An amuse giggle fell from my lips as I quirked a brow, eyeing the passion punch goblet on the menu. "I understand why you'd do that," I nodded, before asking him if the goblet I was looking at was one he'd wanna try.
Harry flipped to the page of the menu before nodding, smiling, "Sounds good, love. Know what you want to eat?"
I turned the menu towards the pasta section, eyes landing on my favorite dish of rigatoni marinara and nodding. Right then, our waiter arrived, an admittedly attractive boy with a sharp jaw and black hair tied back in a man-bun. As he poured us glasses of water, he introduced himself as Fernando and asked us for our drinks—he didn't even blink twice at the sight of Harry, most likely aware of the prince's appearance here. Harry asked him for the passion punch goblet I had decided on, before gesturing to me to order first.
"Alright, I'll be back with your drinks in a few moments," Fernando smiled, taking our menus from us before walking off, leaving Harry and I alone once again.
Looking back at Harry, still trying to shake off how handsome he looked in a suit—when was the last time a guy had taken me on a date and worn a suit? Never—I asked, "Have you talked to your family lately? I bet you miss them."
Harry nodded, smiling fondly as dimples hinted at his cheeks. "Yeh, I talked to my mum a few days ago," he informed, shifting so he could fold his arms on the table top and lean forward a bit. "Everyone's good, goin' on about their lives. Still aren't aware of my new living arrangement, though."
I sucked in a breath through my teeth, nodding faintly. "Right, they'd be pissed, wouldn't they?" I questioned knowingly, picking up the glass to take a sip of my ice cold water, ring clad fingers clinking against it.
"Mum would have a coronary," Harry scoffed, shaking his head in mild amusement as I pressed my lips together to stop an incredulous laugh and swallow my mouthful of water, lowering my glass. "'S long as she doesn't know, all's well. 'S not hard to keep it under wraps, though, so I'm lucky that way." His green eyes met mine as he asked, "How's Zoe's wedding planning goin'?"
I told him how the soon-to-be married couple had a cake tasting coming up in a few days, and they were dragging their Maid of Honor—me—and Carlos's best man, his brother, along for it. He asked more questions about it, genuinely curious on the progress, and I answered every question until Fernando returned with our empty goblet full of ice and passion fruits.
Pulling my phone out excitedly, I prepared to record a video of the making of the drink on SnapChat, positioning my phone so Harry's not caught in the background. "Ready?" Fernando grinned, bringing up the pitcher where he'd pour the beverage from. Harry and I nodded, and then our waiter proceeded to pour the drink in, and I recorded the video of the goblet releasing smoke as the liquid went inside, both Harry and I making sounds of amazement like little kids at the resulting product. It always fascinated me, the goblet drinks, and recording them being poured was a must.
Muting the video, I posted it on my story before putting my phone away, smiling as Fernando put in two straws for Harry and I, told us our food would be out soon, and went away. Both Harry and I leaned forward, grasping a straw each and drinking the passion punch, which was both sweet and sour because of the fruit inside that was mixed with alcohol. Our faces were pretty close as we shared the drink, reminding me of a date a couple would go on in the 1950s, but finding it all the more endearing. I couldn't help but grin as I drank the beverage through the straw, brown eyes locked with green and the familiar fluttering appeared in my stomach once again.
After a comfortable lull in conversation, my gaze returned to Harry as I inquired, "What's your sister like?"
I was curious, because Harry talked about her every now and then and I had seen many pictures and videos of the Princess of England over the years. She was gorgeous, to say the least, and seemingly the perfect princess. I wouldn't be the least bit shocked if Harry described her as exactly that.
"She's my confidant," Harry started off by saying, and the fond smile returned to his face as he thought about his older sister, leaning back in his chair as I couldn't help but mirror his smile. "We fight, like siblings do, but at the end of the day she's always been there for me. Unlike me, though, she likes the royal lifestyle. She's only four years older than me, but she's far better at being a princess than I am at being a prince. She enjoys going to meetings and sitting in on Mum's teas and dinners." Harry paused, gaze wandering off for a moment in thought, though he smiled once more. "Gem's the one that helped convinced my parents to let me move here."
A soft smile played on my lips as I asked, "Really?" wanting him to continue. Just by the look he was getting on his face and in his eyes, I could tell he truly did love his sister.
"Yeah," Harry chuckled deeply, looking at me once more with bright green eyes that sort of left my breathless. "Gemma knows I'm not too fond of being confined in the palace. Mum didn't like it when I went off to places like Niall's pub, and Dad was a little more lenient. But Gemma easily realized I wanted an out—even if it was temporary. Convinced me to push the matter to my parents, and then convinced them to let me go. She's quite persuasive, if I'm being honest."
I laughed along, leaning back comfortably in my own seat as I agreed, "It's good to have someone like that in your corner."
"It is," Harry affirmed, fingers wrapping around his glass as his rings, too, clinked against it as he asked, "What about you and your brother? You two are close as well, yeah?"
I thought about my brother, Xavier, dark hair like my mom and I with hazel eyes that he inherited from our father, and smiled the same fond smile that was on Harry's face a few moments ago. "He's eight years older than me, but we're as close as can be," I replied. "He's pretty protective over me, too—spied on me on my first date when I was fifteen to make sure the boy didn't try anything," I added with a reminiscent laugh, shaking my head.
Harry's brows raised, looking amused at that. "Didn't embarrass you, I'd hope."
"No, no—no childhood trauma that way," I laughed, grinning as I thought of my brother. "Just sat a couple rows back from us at the movies. Although, I do think he threw popcorn if he thought the boy I was with would so much as so try to put his arm around me," I added with an afterthought, bursting into laughter just as Harry did at that prospect.
"You've got a niece too, right?"
My smile widened as I nodded, "Yeah, Felicity. She's almost five and the cutest little girl ever. Pretty much the love of my life."
Harry chortled endearingly at my words as Fernando walked over, carrying a tray before lowering it to place my pasta in front of me and steak in front of Harry. The food was steaming and it probably tasted as good as it smelled, but before I could even pick up the fork, Harry spoke up. "Wait," he said, shifting around and I watched with a raised brow as he pulled out his phone. Holding it up towards me, he grinned from behind it, "Smile!"
His word got me blinking into action as I sat up, laughing lightly before smiling at the phone, blushing lightly as I rested my hands in my lap and let Harry take the picture. Once he did, I picked up my own phone, wanting to freeze the sight before me on camera, and smirked, "It's only fair," before sliding to the camera.
Harry did the same as I did, grinning as he showed his teeth and dimples as well and I took the picture of the handsome man sitting across from me. It was quite a nice picture, of him sitting there in his fancy suit and grinning adorably, and I briefly wondered how in the world I ended up being on a date with someone like him. Putting our phones away, Harry and I dug into our food, and after the first bite I realized that, yes, the pasta tasted as good as it smelled.
*****
"That sundae was longer than my arm!" Harry laughed, his right hand running through his hair as his left hand clasped mine and we walked down the hallway of building leading to my apartment.
Laughter bubbled past my lips as I watched my feet, heels clicking against the floor as I agreed, "I know. I think I have, like, permanent brain freeze after eating all that." It was quite tasty, really—three scoops of vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry ice creams with bananas and whipped cream and God knows what else. "And probably a sugar rush."
He grinned as we reached my door, my hand sifting through my purse to pull out my keys. I unlocked it but instead of opening the door, I turned to look up at Harry, a small smile flitting on my lips as his green eyes met mine. "I had fun," I stated truthfully, fingers twirling my keychain absentmindedly, "even if I can barely move from everything we ate. Thank you for tonight."
Harry's boyish grin never disappeared from his lips, dark hair pushed back and green eyes gleaming. He seemed to leave me as breathless as he did when I first opened the door to him earlier this evening, only now both of our cheeks were slightly flushed from both the cold outside and some wine we had consumed after dinner. "Thank you for saying yes," he returned sincerely, "I had loads of fun tonight, too."
My smile turned into smirk despite myself as I teased, "Enough fun to want a second date?"
"And a third, and a fourth. . ." Harry trailed off, his own smirk appearing as he took a step closer to me, myself rooted on the spot as he neared me and my eyes stayed locked with his. I was still grinning as he stopped right in front of me, my back pressed against the door as Harry's hands twitched at his side. "Y'know what I do after a date, don't you, love?" he questioned, his voice dropping volume yet sounding so undeniably smoky.
Cue the quickening in my heart beat and anticipation pooling in my stomach, and it wasn't long until Harry was close enough to just lean down and connect our lips in the awaited kiss. I inhaled sharply at the feel of his soft lips, eyes closing and right arm wrapping around the back of his neck as my left hand grazed his sharp jaw, keys clinging together as they were looped in my fingers, though neither of us cared. I felt Harry's hands rest comfortably on my hips, pulling me close but also pressing me against the door and I felt as if I was on fire as he kissed me.
It was crazy how this wasn't the first kiss Harry and I've shared, but it still made my head spin and heart beat insanely within my chest like the first had. Each kiss felt different and new in the best ways, each kiss topping the last as Harry moved his lips with mine, tongues coming together and hands pulling each other closer. My senses were full of him; the feel of his lips, touch of his hands, and even his scent pleasantly invading my nose.
This must be what it means to think of someone else as a drug—suddenly the many stories I've read and edited made enough sense for me to know exactly what they meant. Especially now when I was experiencing it firsthand.
Oxygen became an annoying necessity as Harry and I reluctantly parted, breathing deeply in an attempt to catch some much need air as my arm around his neck loosened, as did his grip on my hips as pulled away enough to finally look at each other. His naturally pink lips had an even rosier color, making them look even more kissable, if that was possible, and I quelled the urge as I found myself smirking up at him lightly. "That definitely calls for a second date."