Chiara was just getting ready to answer when she heard the door open again.

Then, shockingly, Drew's voice filled the bathroom, deep and full of authority.

"Excuse me, but did you follow my friend in here to bother her because she was sitting with Ned and me?"

There was gasping and some shrieks as they realized who was in the bathroom with them.

"Ohmygod, Drew, can we have a photograph, please?"

"Are you off your head? Now?" he responded bluntly. "Please leave and let my friend use the facilities in peace, yeah?"

Chiara took this opportunity to press the flush and straighten her clothes, so she didn't feel quite so vulnerable, sitting on the commode with her undies around her ankles.

She could hear someone's cameraphone clicking, in spite of his words.

"Bex, stop, he said no," someone said.

"You'd do best to listen to your friend," Drew said. He raised his voice, and Chiara knew his next words were to her. "Don't come out yet, okay?" She noticed he was careful not to use her name.

"You lot know how generous I usually am with my time, how forgiving I am about stopping for photographs," he continued. "So the few times I say no, I expect my wishes to be respected, otherwise I'm less inclined to stop at all the next time I see you.

"You, Bex, is it? If I see that photograph of me anywhere, my lawyer will be coming after you, understand? I'd suggest you delete it right now." There was a slight pause. "Smart girl, good decision.

"Now, if we can all vacate these premises and leave my friend to wee, I'll take one photo with all of you, outside the toilets, all right? And you'll have a funny story to tell your friends, how's that sound?"

Chiara heard them leaving, and stepped out of the stall when she could tell the room was quite empty.

Wow.

Drew really took his friends' privacy seriously.

She washed her hands and left, wondering if they were still taking photos, but Drew was leaning against the wall waiting for her. She looked over at their table, but everyone was gone, and she and Drew were quite alone.

"Where'd they go?" she asked.

Drew lifted his phone. "Mum said she wanted to do some 'secret shopping,' for you and me, so she took Noah and Ned and left," he told her. "She gave me strict instructions not to let you spend one single penny of your own money on anything," he informed her. "So, even though I know the last thing you want to do is be alone with me, I'm afraid you're stuck with me for the rest of the day."

Chiara bit her lips together and crossed her arms. She looked around the tearoom and considered her options.

"I suppose I could just hand over a large wad of fifty pound notes and turn you loose," Drew suggested, pulling a card out of his wallet. "Would you prefer that? We just need to find a cash machine--"

Chiara sighed and shook her head. "You don't have to buy me anything, for fuck's sake."

They began walking as they were talking, but were spotted by the same group of girls almost immediately.

"Bollocks," Drew said, grasping Chiara by the elbow and steering her towards an escalator. The girls followed them, somehow mysteriously growing in number until, by the time they got to the ground floor, they were being pursued by twenty or more young ladies.

"Oh my god, what do they want?" Chiara asked, no longer bothered by the fact that Drew had his hand on her arm. They were starting to look like a mob.

"Who the fuck knows? We're going to have to leave the store, okay?"

Chiara nodded as the group of girls began to stream off the bottom of the escalator, looking like a school of fish.

They quickly went out the door, and Drew hailed a cab, asking the cabbie to "just drive," something Chiara had only heard in movies up to that point.

The cabbie pulled away from the curb, and Drew directed him to the Esplanade along the river, where the shops were doing a brisk business, in spite of the cold weather. Chiara and Drew walked along the river in the bright, cold sunlight, and Chiara wished she'd worn her coat. She'd briefly considered it, but figured they'd be spending most of the day in Harrod's, and had therefore left it in the hotel.

She rubbed her arms briskly, trying to warm herself up, and was surprised when she felt a coat dropped around her shoulders.

It was Drew's coat, put there by Drew himself, of course. It was lovely and warm, soft fleece inside, and smelled of him. She wanted nothing more than to snuggle into it, but fought the urge and shrugged it off, holding it out to him hooked over her finger.

"I'm fine, I don't need this," she said briefly.

"Bollocks," he responded, making no move to take it. "You're shivering, your teeth are chattering." He looked down at her. "Wear the fucking coat, or I'm going into the next shop we pass and buying you a new one."

She considered just dropping the coat, but it was beautifully made, of supple leather, and she knew it must have cost thousands of pounds, and she couldn't bring herself to just leave it on the damp ground.

He took it from her and put it on her shoulders again, and this time she left it where it was. After a few minutes she passed her arms through the sleeves, reveling in the warmth.

"Better," Drew said.

She knew that he must be cold, and she felt bad, but she was not going to say anything about it. She didn't give two fucks if he was cold, did she?

After fifteen minutes or so of walking, they entered a coffee shop, and Drew led them to a table at the back, seating himself facing the wall, gesturing for Chiara to take the seat facing out.

"Would you mind to go get the coffees?" he asked.

She shook her head. He pulled out some money, and she took it and brought back lattes for both of them.

"I wanted to talk to you," he began as she warmed her hands on her cup.

She just looked at him, her expression neutral, and the silence stretched out between them, getting longer and louder.

"I--look, I'm--" he took a sip of his coffee, rolling his eyes and looking around the wall behind her, as if searching for inspiration. His eyes landed on hers again, and he attempted to speak once more. "I just--I was--oh for fuck's sake!" he finally said, setting his cup down rather hard and sloshing a bit of scalding coffee onto his hand. He hissed and pulled his hand away quickly, shaking his fingers.

He yanked a couple of napkins out of the napkin holder, pulling it over in the process and wiping his hand. He bit his lips and looked over at Chiara again, shaking his head.

She still said nothing, taking another sip of her coffee.

"I'm so very sorry about what happened last night," he finally said, his voice low with emotion. "I have no excuse for what I did, for how I behaved. Obviously I didn't know you were there, but that's a terrible reason for how I acted, and I know that." He sat back, taking a deep breath. "All I can say is that--that when I'm with you, I'm a better person, I want to be a better person, and when I'm not with you, I sometimes slide back into being the arse I was before we met."

He took a deep breath, and a big swallow of coffee. He shrugged. "That's it, I reckon. I'm a work in progress, and I'm trying."

Chiara thought for a bit, drinking her own coffee as she did. Finally she nodded.

"Here's what I think," she began. "I believe you when you say you're trying to be a better person, I suppose, though I don't really know you well enough to know, right? So fine, if you want to try to be nicer, and not be such a complete and utter cockwomble to me, go ahead, then, try." She nodded for emphasis.

"But maybe we should try as just friends, you know? It seems like we run into trouble when we try to take things further. It gets complicated when we start in with the kissing and all that, don't you think?"

And Drew, who wanted nothing more than "the kissing and all that," felt like he had no choice but to nod as if he agreed with her.

"When we talk and play video games and watch movies and that, things seem to be fine. But when we kiss or make out or try to take things further, that's when things get messed up. You get jealous, or I get insecure, or you get worried, or I see the wrong thing..." Chiara let her words trail off.

"You didn't do anything wrong last night," Chiara told him, taking another sip of her quickly cooling coffee. "I shouldn't have just shown up without letting you know, and we aren't dating or anything, let alone exclusive. I had no business getting upset just because I saw you with another girl."

"But you heard me talking about you with Gary," Drew said, running his hands through his hair. "I don't even remember what we said, but I know it wasn't--wasn't nice."

"Gary knew I was there, he saw me. He led you into those words."

"It shouldn't matter!" Drew's voice was vicious. "I shouldn't have said whatever I said. I should've defended you, I should've told him you were nice and I--I liked you or whatever--"

"But you didn't."

"But I didn't."

Chiara shrugged. "I'll live."

Drew wanted to die at her dismissive gesture. What in the hell had he been thinking? He couldn't really remember what he'd said, but he could remember his scornful, scathing tone. Why?

"So will you give me another chance? To--to be your--your friend?"

Chiara swallowed, then nodded. "Of course. Everyone deserves a second chance."

"I guess I can't ask for more than that," Drew said in a defeated voice. "Thank you, Chiara. Thanks for accepting my apology, and thanks for giving me a second chance."

"You're welcome."

"And thanks for not letting on to my mum about any of this."

"She really wants us to be close, for some reason, and I like her, so there's no reason to disappoint her," Chiara reasoned. "It's only until after the holidays, right? I don't mind pretending we're friends for a few weeks."

Drew rose. "Thanks," he said again. "And now, I guess we really should shop a little, yeah? I need to buy some gifts."

"Okay."

They exited the coffee shop and joined the throngs walking along the esplanade in the cold afternoon sunshine.