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Aimee is out of guys to set Nick up with. She is out, Alexa is out, Henry is out, Pixie is out, Dave is out. Everyone is out of guys to fill the part of Potential Boyfriend for Grimmy. Nick is impossible, apparently.
"Aimee, tall black," the barista calls out and Aimee turns to grab her cup, not paying attention to anything but the phone in her hand. She bodily collides with someone and coffee sloshes over the rim of the cup.
"Sorry, sorry," Aimee says automatically. This one's her fault this time, she's sure. Dealing with Nick whining about being hashtag forever alone takes all of her concentration.
"It's alright," the guy says.
"No, it's -- oh." Aimee blinks, taking in the guy -- boy, really -- in front of her. He's tall, and thin, but with obvious muscle definition and his black jeans look painted on. He's also got slightly unwashed, curly hair tied up in a McQueen scarf that is last season, maybe the year before. He looks like a page torn straight from Nick's wank bank. Wow. "Hi," she says, pocketing her phone and offering her hand.
"Hi," the boy says back, shaking her hand lightly like he isn't sure he should, and smiles, tentatively. And -- oh no. He has dimples. Oh good lord. Jackpot.
"I'm Aimee. What's your name, how old are you, and do you like cock?"
"Uh." He blinks, still smiling uncertainly. "My name's Harry. I'm 20 and, um, yes?"
Aimee lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Perfect. Single?"
"I," Harry starts to say but then they're being pushed further away from the end counter by a group of tourists. "I'm almost afraid to say yes."
Aimee likes this kid. She doesn't usually like people this fast, but there's something about this one. "How do you feel about blind dates?"
*
Nick checks his quiff with the camera on his phone and then sets it on the table. He's done a lot of these blind dates recently but the fear of seeing someone's disappointed face at the sight of him still makes his stomach twist in knots.
Collette's voice rings in his head. Grim, you're a looker, now buck up and act like one.
The door opens and Nick's head snaps that way. Not him. Aimee said he -- Harry -- would be wearing a scarf thing tied around his head. Nick's a little worried about her scraping the bottom of the barrel now.
"Would you like a glass of wine, sir?" The waiter asks, appearing next to Nick, making him jump and bang his elbow on the table.
"No, thanks, not yet," Nick says, rubbing his elbow.
"Very well, sir."
When the door opens the next time, Nick makes an undignified sound in the back of his throat. That cannot be him.
"Hi," Harry says when he gets to Nick's table. He's smiling and Nick is so very glad he's sitting because wow. "Nick?"
"That's me," Nick says, taking the hand Harry offers. It's warm and dry. "Harry?"
"Yeah, hi, nice to finally meet you," he says, still smiling. His ridiculously long legs are hidden under the table but his dimples are still visible and they're not playing around. He's got tattoos too but Nick can't make out half of them. "Aimee's said so much about you."
"Has she?" Nick's fingers itch for his phone. He has a few things he'd like to say to her. "I'm afraid she's not told me much about you."
"That's okay," he says. He unfolds the rolled up silverware and spreads the serviette across his lap. Proper. His voice screams posh too. As well as Northern. "I can do, like, an introduction? I'm Harry, I'm twenty, uh, I live here in London, and I'm studying law, and a bit of English, too, I guess."
Harry's voice is deep and slow and Nick's so caught up in it that he almost misses what he's actually said. "Wait, English and law? But you intern at Aimee's music management company?"
"Oh, uh." Harry coughs, and sits up a little straighter. "Yeah, I mean. Yeah, I like music."
Harry's fingers are long. Like, really long and his hands are big and there is definite muscle in those biceps. "Are you wanting to do media law then?" Nick asks.
"Maybe." Harry shrugs. "You like music, too, right? Aimee said you're on the radio?"
Nick laughs. It's not often his voice goes unrecognized these days, but he kind of likes this. "Yeah, a morning show. 6:30 to 10." Harry's hair is an absolute disaster in that scarf thing and probably not been washed for a few days. Nick wants to mess it up.
"Oh," Harry says, nodding, face clearing. "I'm usually working then, so I've probably never heard. I've had mornings at the bakery for months now."
Nick stops thinking dirty, shallow thoughts for a minute and sifts through what Harry's said. "You study law and English, intern for music management, and work in a bakery? Do you not sleep?" Nick gets having a strong work ethic, but he also enjoys sleep and a party or two.
Harry grins. "Some."
The waiter comes back, not startling Nick this time. "Can I get either of you something to drink?"
Nick orders wine, enjoying the wide eyed look Harry gives when Nick asks for the whole bottle. Nick hasn't met anyone he could impress so easily in a long while.
The wine comes and then does the food and then Nick is ordering another bottle with dessert.
Harry's cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and he's laughing at one of Nick's stories about his producer with these big, loud laughs that Nick keeps encouraging. Nick loves it when people find him as funny as he thinks he is.
"It's not like I gave out his whole phone number," Nick says, making Harry laugh even more. "Like half. Maybe three quarters."
"You're awful," Harry says. He's holding the wine glass with both hands, grinning over it and Nick wants to take it from him and kiss him.
"I know," Nick says. "And Ian. Oh, god. Ian was on Matt's side but you could tell he wanted to laugh."
"Obviously," Harry says, then, "Wait, who's Ian?"
"Ian's my assist --" Nick stops mid word. "You know Ian."
Harry looks to the side. "I do?"
"Yes," Nick says. If Harry is ever at Aimee's company for more than five minutes in the afternoon, he's met Ian. "Aimee's boyfriend and my assistant producer."
"Oh," Harry says, "right. Yes, I know Ian."
Nick watches Harry's face flush brighter red and notices that he's not meeting Nick's eyes anymore. If Harry's not lying, he's doing a great impression of someone who is. "What's Ian look like?" Nick asks.
Harry sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. "Um."
Nick sets his glass down with a loud clink, making Harry look up. "What's going on here?"
"Erm."
"Who are you? Is your name even Harry?"
"I'm Harry!" he says. He puts his glass down too with a wince. "I'm who I say I am. I'm just. I. Crap." Harry frowns, brows drawing together. He's so pretty. Nick is so disappointed. "I'm not an intern at your friend Aimee's company."
"Yeah, I figured that out."
"Ugh," Harry says, dragging a hand over his face. Nick feels the same. "I don't even know Aimee. Not really. We met yesterday."
Wow, Nick mouths silently. "So you met some strange orange haired lady yesterday and agreed to go on a blind date with her desperately single best friend?"
Harry laughs at that, short and sudden. "Uh, yeah? Pretty much? She was very, erm, adamant?"
That's one way to describe her. Nick sighs. "Yeah, I'll give you that."
"I'm sorry," Harry says, and he looks like he means it. "I can leave if you want? But I was enjoying myself, genuinely. This was a lovely time, thank you."
"You are not serious," Nick groans. "This is so embarrassing and I'm never embarrassed. I can't believe Aimee."
"I'm not embarrassed," says Harry. "Maybe, I don't know how, but maybe she looked at me and just knew we'd click. We did click, right? I thought so."
"Yeah," Nick says, miserably, from under his hand. "We clicked."
"Then so what if she didn't already know me. Who cares, yeah?"
Nick peeks out from under his hand. Yeah, Harry is still unfairly attractive. He's like one of Nick's fantasies brought to life. He can kind of see Aimee's reasoning. "Was everything else you said true?"
"Yeah, absolutely," Harry says, nodding.
"Even your love of music?"
"Especially my love of music."
Maybe Nick can just tell everyone that he met Harry in a club. That would work. "Let's say we met in a club if anyone asks."
"Okay," Harry says easily. "Which one?"
"I don't know. The one around the corner from here."
"Sure, okay." Harry nods. "When? Tonight? Did I see you dancing and come over? Or did I buy you a drink at the bar?"
"I don't know? Does it matter?" Nick says. Harry gives him a look. "What?"
"Did tonight teach you nothing about my ability to lie?"
Nick laughs. "You have a point."
"I know, so we should get our stories straight. It might take a while," Harry says.
"Yeah," Nick says, nodding. "Okay. Do you -- shall I order more wine then?"
Harry shakes his head. "You probably have wine at your house."
"I do," Nick says, confused. There is also wine here, right in front of them. Then Harry grins and Nick gets it.
"So let's go there instead."
***