The closer we got to the restaurant, the sicker I felt. "I think I'm going down with something." I hunched forwards, clutching my stomach.

Cara, gave me a cursory glanced and scoffed, "I'm sure you'll be fine."

"No, I'm nauseous and feverish. I might be contagious." I clutched my forehead in a way I hoped made me look sickly.

She didn't even look up from her phone this time, "The only thing hot around here is that chemistry between you and Elliott." She chuckled.

"I'm sick." I said plaintively but she wasn't having any of it, still engrossed in whatever she was typing.

With a sigh I flopped back in the seat and glanced out of the window. The too-busy streets of London rolled by. Bright lights, and crowds of blurry strangers all too focused on their destinations to even notice one another. Drunken laughter spilling out of pubs from jokes no one else was in on and obnoxious car horns filled the air.

Not for the first time I longed for the peace of my little village where the loudest noises were the giggles of children playing in the river during the summer.

We slowed, turning into a smaller side street and the taxi glided silently to a stop. I reluctantly undid my seat belt and moved to get out. Trying not to accidentally flash anyone in the street I kept my knees firmly together as I slid out and tottered slowly round the car in the stupid high heeled boots Cara had recommended. Teamed with the tights and layered black dress I looked elegant and edgy. Neither word could have ever been used to describe me before.

Cara still hadn't stepped out and I moved towards her door. The window rolled down, and she smiled out at me sheepishly. "So, he's already in there. I'm going to head back but there's a key and the address for my apartment in your bag so you can crash with me when you're done." She said quickly.

"B-but you're invited." My eyes widened in realisation that she had planned this well enough to sneak things into my bag.

"And now I'm uninviting myself."

"I need to get back to check on Nanna." I moved to get back in the taxi but heard the unmistakable sound of the door locks clicking into place.

"Go. Enjoy yourself. I'll have someone check on your Nanna and then you can tell her all about your exciting date tomorrow." She grinned.

"It's not a date. We are just friends." I protested weakly, tugging at the locked car door uselessly.

"Honey, I'm your friend and I can confirm you've never looked at me like that before."

"This isn't funny Cara." I warned.

She presses the button and the window started rolling up, "Have fun Pheebs, you deserve to-" her words cut off and muffled as the window closed.

I saw her frown and stab a finger at the button, so the window rolled down again, "Well I timed that badly, closed faster than I expected." She laughed, "As I was saying, you deserve to relax and let your hair down. Just have fun and get to know each other. If you hate him by the end of the night you never have to see him again."

"That's not what I'm afraid of." I whispered.

"Then what is it?"

"I'm afraid I won't hate him.' The tiny confession had realisation dawning in her eyes.

She softened, "Why don't we cross that bridge when we come to it?" she asked gently.

I turned to look at the pretty building with Jio and Wine emblazoned across it in flickering fluorescent lights. "You're sure he's in there?" I asked, fear of history repeating itself filling me.

"I promise you. Go and in and you'll be able to see him. He's by the bar." She reassured.

I took a shaky step forwards and stopped, "Are you sure you won't join us?" I asked hopefully over my shoulder.

"Go!" Cara laughed.

With far more purpose and confidence than I felt I marched through the doors before I could chicken out and run the other way. My eyes anxiously scanned the room before a rush of relief hit as I spotted him. He looked like he had stepped out of one of those old gangster movies.

Sat on a stool, his back to the bar with his elbows resting on the edge as he surveyed the room. A smart burgundy polo paired with artfully ripped black jeans. The perfect mix of rockstar and boy next door. Was that a thing? It should be.

His eyes met mine and his face lit up as he bounded over to me. I couldn't help the flutter his smile sent through me.

"You came." He sounded relieved as he stopped in front of me.

I stared for a moment, caught under the spell of his good looks I couldn't find words, so I just smiled.

He wasn't fazed by the fact I was apparently mute in his presence.

"We've got a private table. This way." He rested a hand on the small of my back, guiding me round passed the bar to a curtained area.

Lifting the heavy red velvet drapes revealed a single table for two, lit by candles with a smaller table next to it topped with an ice bucket containing two bottles of wine.

"Were Victoria and Cara ever actually coming?" I asked, as he pulled out a chair and helped me to sit.

I glanced up at him to read his reaction to my words. At least he had the decency to look embarrassed. "Initially, yes. But they agreed to help me get some alone time with you instead." He sat in the seat opposite and leaned forwards, "If it's any consolation Cara made me promise to be a perfect gentleman before she would agree to anything."

He began pouring me a glass of red wine and then sat without getting one for himself. "Not a fan of wine." he said, noticing my interest.

I lifted the glass slowly and took a sip. "So, how has your day been?"

He quirked an eyebrow at my attempt at small talk, "If you're already trying the small talk then I'm not entertaining you well enough." He laughed, "In answer to your question, it was tiring. Lots of interviews and fielding questions about us."

"There isn't an us." I said quickly putting my glass down so quickly wine almost sloshed over the tablecloth.

I thought hurt flashed across his features before he winked, "We know that but they like digging."

I bit my bottom lip and his eyes watched with hungry intensity before moving back to my eyes.

"How are you handling it?" he asked.

I watched his lips moving and briefly my brain forgot how to function, "Handling what?" I asked distractedly.

He waved a hand, "The press, the fans, everything. I know it can be overwhelming."

"The press is pretty awful, but your fans aren't as bad as I thought they would be now they have a face and name to put to their upset." I replied with a shrug, as I found myself examining his impossibly handsome face.

Some people really did get it all. Looks, talent and an annoyingly charming personality.

He laughed, "I wasn't just talking about my fans. Yours are pretty crazy too."

"My what?" that snapped me out of my internal debate about whether girls would be more jealous of his full lips or long curled eye lashes.

"Your fans. You have them too you know." He laughed.

"No, I don't. You're the big fancy celebrity here." I shocked my head in denial.

He shrugged, "Tell that to your fan pages."

I gasped, "Please tell me you're joking?" I said faintly.

He looked concerned, "Are you ok? Would you like some water?" he jumped out of his seat and leaned through the curtains to call for a waiter.

I attempted to slow my panicked breathing, now was not the time to break down.

"They're just getting you some water." Elliott crouched at my side.

His hand resting on my knee was enough to seriously affect my ability to form a coherent thought.

"Why are you being so nice?" I asked when I had finally calmed my breathing.

There was that hurt look again. What was wrong with me? Why was I incapable of having a civil conversation without offending him?

He rocked back on his heels, "I like you. Isn't that reason enough?"

Way to make me feel worse. "I didn't mean it like that. I just don't understand why you are interested in me." I couldn't meet his eyes anymore, so I picked up my glass of red wine again and began sipping that.

His fingers caught my chin and he tilted my face up to look at him, "Phoebe. You're beautiful. I would be crazy not to have noticed you."

Those blue eyes bore into my soul, doing funny things to my heart and rendering me speechless once more.

"It's sweet of you to say but I know I'm average at best." I said with a self-depreciating laugh when I finally regained my voice.

His finger caught a tendril of my hair, brushing it back from my face, "God I'd like five minutes with the idiot who made you think like that."

Nate's face drifted into my mind unbidden and I could tell Elliott saw it on my face. "He's wrong. Whatever he told you was a lie." He told me earnestly.

I winced, "It wasn't just him." I said quietly and before I knew it the whole awful tale was pouring out of me. Once I opened the floodgates the pain of rejection and humiliation surged out of me as raw as they had been the days after it happened.

When I finally finished, he was silent. I had never told the story in such detail to anyone and my heart hammered in my chest. What had made me blab the stupid story to someone little more than a stranger?

Anger and pity warring on his face until finally it settled into a calmer determination. "Phoebe, he was an arse but I'm going to prove to you that we're not all like that."

"How?"

"I'm going to give you the most amazing date because you deserve to have someone treat you like an absolute queen."

I blinked, that was quite a declaration. "This is a date?" I asked.

"This was always a date Phoebe, but now I'm stepping it up a level. Prepare yourself for the gold star Hawk experience."

His words were slowly warming me until he described it as an experience. No matter what he said, I was probably just another girl to add to his list of conquests. Girls who received different levels of the Hawk experience as he had called it.

Even so, the attraction between us was undeniable and I supposed Cara was right, I should have fun once in a while.

What was the harm in one date? I didn't have to fall in love with the guy.

Carefully I built the walls around my heart to close myself off whilst simultaneously leaning forwards. The glass of wine in my system gave me a buzz of confidence, "What does the package include?"