Siren

Chapter Seventeen

ST. ALBANS IS GORGEOUS. I can't believe I've lived on the opposite side of London my whole life and have never been to this town. There are castles every so often as we drive through the town, a stark contrast to the newer buildings that are trying to blend in to the antique feel.

Night has fallen by the time we are in the town and we watch as the street lamps come to life. Harry parks in a lot just off the road and takes his sunglasses off as the car silences.

He climbs out of the car and I follow his example. It's chilly when the door opens and I pull my light coat around me tighter. Harry reaches out for me and my eyes go wide, he's now wearing a leather jacket I didn't even realize he had with him.

"You should wear that more often." I say and instantly wish I hadn't. He turns to me quickly, his eyes sparkling with obvious humor. I think I entertain him more then anything else since I'm like a child and I say or do things without thinking. Oh well.

He chuckles and puts his arm over my shoulders, pulling me into his side. He's so warm. My arm goes around his waist naturally and we begin walking through town.

It's so different than London. There aren't as many people hustling about around the sidewalks here and the rain has thankfully stopped.

Harry leads us to a restaurant with a French name and we are seated instantly at a back table.

"Can I take this off or should I keep it on?" Harry asks like the smart ass he is, stopping midway as he takes the jacket off. I just roll my eyes at him as I drape my own coat over the back of my chair, earning yet another chuckle from him.

We are handed menus and I look down the list of wines while Harry lists off every item of food on the menu. Apparently he's suddenly starving.

The waiter comes around and Harry has about a million questions before the poor kid can even take our drink order. Lucky for Harry, this kid wants to bend over backwards to ensure our dinner is the best we've ever had.

I order a glass of Chardonnay for Harry and I since he is more interested in his food selection. I watch him as he continues to search the one page menu. His eyebrows are furrowed and his middle finger is pressed against his lips. It's quite amusing.

"Mr. Styles!" A tall, too skinny blonde man approaches our table. He is in all white and before he can even introduce himself, I realize he's the chef.

Does this happen wherever he goes for food?

I shake off the question, surprisingly keeping my big mouth shut as Harry introduces me.

"What a beautiful girl," the chefs voice is laced in a diminishing French accent. I wonder how long he's been in England.

I shake his hand and then his attention is back on Harry with a few glances over at me here and there. Harry wants to know what the chefs favorite item on the menu is and the conversation goes on for too long. Every time I think Harry has made a decision, he comes up with an argument for another dish.

"Your lady is hungry!" The chef finally says, patting Harry on the back with a surprisingly big laugh. "I will make you both something special. Samuel, please bring them our best bottle of Chardonnay! Enjoy!"

He walks away in a flourish and back to his kitchen. Harry seems pleased and he finally sits back and takes a sip of the glass of wine he was giving.

My stomach is growling.

"Hungry?" I ask.

"What?" He asks, seeming confused. I can't hold in the laughter. "I've heard great things about this place and I want his best dish!" He defends himself but it's no help.

I have stumbled into a new world.

"So what are your plans for the rest of the week?" Harry asks after we finish laughing about his high maintenance eating habits.

"The dates not even over and you're trying to set up a time to see me again?" I tease.

"I've been told it's the best way to ensure the next one." He winks at me and I blush. I was doing so well playing cool Noah. Why must my face betray me?

"You've been taught well." I joke. "I am actually house hunting."

"You're moving from that place?" His jaw drops.

"Well moving out." I explain. The very detailed explanation that Steph, Tammy and I came up with for me moving out has been branded on my mind. It's actually flawless. "I've been living with a good friend of mine and we both decided it was a good time to go off on our own."

"That place is amazing though." Harry sighs.

"Trust me, I know." I can't help the giggle that escapes my lips. If I didn't know any better, I would think he doesn't live in one of the most expensive buildings in London. "I can't afford it on my own though and neither can she. She told me a week or two ago that she wanted to move in with her boyfriend so we've been slowly making arrangements."

"Want me to go around with you?" He asks, just like Tammy said he would. "I was in your shoes about two years ago. It helps to have someone with you."

"I would love that." I smile and reach for my glass. I know that the entire conversation was basically orchestrated by my instructions from Tammy but it still feels good that he wants to do boring stuff just to be around me.

Dinner is brought out just as we finish our conversation and I cannot believe the amount of food that is placed in front of us. Everything looks amazing and within seconds, Harry is already digging in with appreciative groans.

As we finish our meals, and entire bottle of Chardonnay, the chef comes back out to make sure we enjoyed our time. Harry and I both assure him that we did and promise to come back.

"What a beautiful girl," the chef says, grabbing one of my hands. He kisses the top of my hand and smirks at Harry. "You better hold onto this one. Someone may steal her!"

I blush and swat at him playfully as we all walk to the front of the restaurant. Harry grabs my hand as we move and squeezes. We wave a final goodbye to the chef and a few of the staff members before walking across the street to the parked car.

"Did you really like it?" Harry asks as we both climb into our seats. Since we walked into the restaurant, the temperature has dropped exponentially. My teeth are chattering as I smile and nod.

Harry blasts the heat, seeing how cold I am and in seconds I can feel the warm air hitting my face. I put my hands in front of the vents, hoping to calm the shakiness out of them and am relieved by the warmth.

"So?" Harry asks as we make our way into the main road back home. I look over at him and see him smiling at his own private joke, his eyes trained on the road. It's like he can feel me looking at him because after a second or two, he looks over at me. "Can I take you back to my place?"

"Yes." I say without thinking through my response. So much for making him work for it.