Twitter ∞ Dan Howell

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Dan was already at Nando's by the time I got there, wrapped in all black, long legs tucked beneath the table, arms up, chin resting on his hands. He spotted me almost instantly, hands unconsciously fixing his fringe.

'Why hello, Mato Potato,' he said as I dropped my bag and sat down, the chair dragging on the wood. I grunted in response, reaching forward a shoe and kicking him relatively unforgivingly in the crotch, but luckily for him, he was wearing tight enough jeans so that they guarded his manhood. Regardless, he still clutched his front and winced.

'I told you not to call me that, dickwad,' I told him, taking a menu from the middle of the table. I could feel Dan looking at me, and so I looked up, over the rim of my menu. His eyes stared back at me, smiling. 'What?'

'I forgot how much of a loser you were,' he said, and I went to kick him in the balls again. He laughed, catching my foot, and released it slowly to the ground. 'A lovable loser,' he corrected.

'Better,' I conceded, looking back to the menu. I tilted my head. 'Is the wrap thing good?'

'Which wrap thing? There's a few wrap things, Meg. You've got to be a little more specific than that.'

'The, uh, grilled chicken one, the grilled chicken wrap thing,' I clarified, and Dan moved his head from side to side. 

'I'd say so,' he said. 'It's been a while since I've had Nando's. But yeah. It's good.'

So we ordered and then sat down again, and Dan let out a long breath. He tucked his hands under one another. 'So, how's London treating you so far?'

'London is good,' I told him. 'New and slightly terrifying, but good.'

'Terrifying?'

I rolled my eyes. 'Dan, I have lived in the less-than-exotic and never-exciting Australian city of Adelaide for the past eight years of my life. And now I'm in London, which literally has, like, a third of all of Australia's population in one friggn' city. Of course it's terrifying.' 

Dan laughed. 'Okay, you make a fair point.' He leant forwards slightly, excitement slipping into his face. His eyes buried into mine. 'So where's your favourite place so far?'

I picked at the edge of the table, avoiding his gaze. I'm not entirely sure why. It just felt too intense, for some reason. And I think I was also remembering the last time I was this close to his eyes and it had been a very different situation. 'Um, I don't know. I haven't seen much in London yet. I haven't really been outside Kings Cross and Soho.'

Dan seemed positively thrilled at this. 'That's what we should do today!' He told me, and I could tell he was trying not to let his smile slip into a grin. 'I can show you all the best places in London. I did promise you that, remember?'

Of course I remembered. I remembered that night almost as clearly as if it was yesterday - just after the show, curled up at the park bench with the cicadas humming around us. 

'You'll have to show me where everything is, when I get there. I want a personal tour.'

Dan's leg brushed mine under the table. 'Of course. Anything for my Potato Girl.'

I smiled a little stiffly, trying to ignore the memory. 'Yeah, alright. That sounds like fun. Although I had promised Peter I'd be back by seven to help him make dinner. But I'll just let him know I'm out.'

Dan took a sip of his drink. 'Is Peter your roommate, then?'

I nodded. 'One of about five. There's a sixth one, but he's hardly in. I think he's got a girlfriend and he hangs around with her most of the time.'