Dedicated to chinavase for writing such great stories! Can't wait for the new ones to get going! x

WHEN SIX O'CLOCK ROLLED BY, I began to worry. Where was Harry? I'd said six, hadn't I? With another glance at the clock and a quick peer out the window, I made my way into the kitchen with a sigh.

Probably heading to the police station instead. His report will be against a creepy, obsessed girl by the name of Jane Green.

Fuck. So many things could have happened, I realised. What if he'd cottoned on to how infatuated I was with him? What if he did do something extreme like go to the police? Perhaps he just didn't want to come over because he had other plans or couldn't be bothered? What if there had been an accident? What if-

My panic was interrupted by the buzzer.

"Hello?"

"It's Harry," said the most beautiful man in the world.

I let out a deep, relieved sigh. "Come on up."

I was quick to return to the kitchen and dish out as much food as possible into serving plates. The chicken was nearly done too.

"Hello?" I heard Harry call from the door.

"Come in!"

A few seconds later, and Harry was walking into the kitchen, a wide smile on his face. His hair was tied back and in his hand was a bouquet of flowers. I was so surprised I nearly dropped the gravy over myself.

"These are for you," he said, lifting the flowers up. "Figured it would have been indecent of me to come empty handed. Also, I didn't know which wine you liked best so I guessed that flowers would do the trick. Girls like flowers, don't they?"

I let out a squeaky giggle that normally would have been embarrassing. However, at that point, I couldn't care less. He'd brought me flowers. Harry, the man I was way too obsessed with, had brought me flowers. If I wasn't mistaken, that sealed the deal completely - I loved him. So damn much. I wanted to hug him, and that was exactly what I planned to do.

I was quick to place the gravy down on the counter and accept his gift, fighting back the happy tears that were threatening to spill over.

"You brought me flowers," I stated as I fumbled around for a vase.

"Um, yeah," Harry said as he handed me the selection. I took a moment to inhale the floral aroma before popping them into the vase, admiring the blooms for a little too long. "Do you like them?"

I turned to face Harry and instantly threw my arms around him, hugging him tight.

The hug meant two things, though one in particular. Thank you and I love you. I only hoped he wasn't able to see just how much a hug truly meant to me; everything.

"I love them," I said, pulling back slowly to observe his features. He thankfully didn't seem to look awkward about the hug, which I was grateful for. Smiling, he gestured to the food being served.

"May I help with anything?" he asked and I instructed him to take through the serving plates that were already heaped with food. His large hands cupped each dish carefully, as if he were determined not to spill a single thing. The way his fingers moved sent shivers down my spine and the seductive voice at the back of my head whispered, Just think of all the possibilities those hands could be used for.

I almost dropped the chicken.

Successfully having set the table with food, Harry and I both sat down, and clinked our glasses together.

Harry, stupidly decided to say, "To chicken!" and I simply echoed his announcement, all the time watching him fondly. Truly, he was beautiful beyond words and I wanted nothing more than to be able to say it to his face without things being awkward between us. But of course, such a compliment would require an extremely strong friendship or a relationship that was unbreakable.

Unfortunately I felt as if I didn't quite fit into either categories.

"I hope you like the food," I told him. "I'm not going to sugar-coat it and say I'm an amazing cook, because unfortunately I'm not."

Harry only chuckled and shook his head as he popped a roast potato into his mouth. Looking up at me, he said, "Everything is lovely."

I wish you were talking about me and not the food.

I smiled and thanked him, all while glancing up every now and again just to make sure he definitely was enjoying the food. My mother had once lied for my sake whereas my father had plainly told me I made the worst casserole in the world. I'd been seventeen and easily disheartened. However, as I was still trying to impress Harry, I'd taken the liberty of searching for my mother's old cookbook and I had followed the recipes and tips with extra care.

If I wasn't perfect enough for Harry, then damn it I'd make sure the food was. As they said, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

"How do you get the chicken this delicious?" Harry asked me.

I shrugged, genuinely unsure. "I don't know. Luck, I suppose?"

"Hm," Harry mused as he poked around at the poultry. "It just falls off the bone too. Hell, you'd give my mother a run for her money."

"Really?" I perked up, realising he'd not ever spoken too much of his family. I was intrigued. I knew he had an older sister but apart from that, I was clueless about Harry's relatives. "What's her most famous dish?"

"Her toad-in-the-hole, definitely," Harry laughed, seeming to reminisce past happenings. "I remember she made it for my sister when she was in her moody, puberty-is-a-bitch stage to cheer her up, and it worked. She was happy as hell afterwards."

"Ha, sounds good," I laughed before taking a sip of my drink. "Do you visit your family a lot?"

Harry shook his head. "Usually at Christmas and the Easter holidays."

"Same with me and my parents," I said.

"Really? Where about to do they stay?" Harry asked.

"Up north, out in the country," I said. "Small town, nothing much to do there. They understand that I prefer being in the city. It feels more exciting than being stuck up there."

"Did you move here for the art dream?" Harry questioned and I nodded. He smiled and told me, "You'll get there, don't worry. I actually have a friend who says he knows a guy who's interested in finding new artists to work with."

I perked up at the news, instantly desperate to know more about the subject. "Really?"

Harry chuckled. "I knew that would grab your attention."

I felt my cheeks flush, slightly saddened that he hadn't realised that my attention had always been on him, from the moment I laid eyes on him. It had been ever since and I knew it would be for a long time.

"Anything to do with art always interests me," I said. Even you, Harry. "I don't suppose..."

Harry cocked an eyebrow when I trailed off, as if he were urging me to continue. I couldn't though, it felt too rude. There was nothing more I wanted to ask of Harry than for him to help me get in touch with this interesting art-seeking man - unless you counted the many other questions such as, "Would you go out with me?" and, "Marry me?" that I also wanted to blurt out - but I couldn't. I didn't want it to look as if I were using him in some way.

"Never mind," I said, shaking my head and stabbing at a potato.

"You sure?" Harry teased, grinning at me. "I have a feeling that you'd like to meet this man. I know you do. Don't be shy to ask me, Jane. I'd love to help you out because I love your work."

Love me, you fool. Yes, you can love my art, that's nice, but love me too.

"Thanks, Harry," I said, smiling. Whenever he complimented my art work it always left butterflies in my stomach. To know that someone other than my friends and family were the ones to give positive feedback, was amazing.

Harry's not a friend? Then what is he?

I let out a sigh which made Harry frown.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, just thinking." It was the best excuse I could think of. I decided the best thing to do would be to keep the conversation going. "What sort of work is this guy looking for with artists?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't actually know. But I do know he put on a lot of displays and galleries. Usually at the Somerset House he has several of the artists he's worked with over the years view their work in there."

"Whoa," I said, trying to imagine what it would be like to have my work in there. The thought itself was mind blowing. Harry had always said he could see my work on display somewhere. Now, that thought was even more mind blowing.

"So, would you like me to try and arrange a meeting? I'm sure my mate won't mind if I asked. He's into art too so he's pretty close with the guy."

"I'll have to write him a really long thank you letter if this man even notices my work," I laughed. Harry just nodded.

"Yeah, I'd be surprised if he didn't take an interest in your work. I do prefer realistic, meaningful scenarios in art. Zayn's art is very caricature and cartoon-like, you see. That's my friend, by the way. But I do prefer your work, Jane. The way you described it to me that day in the coffee house just made me see art in a completely different way. I like your way," he said, smiling at me.

I did love it when he grinned. He had a beautiful smile and each time he flashed me one of those breath-taking smirks, I just wanted to press my own mouth against his and kiss him until the both of us were breathless.

"Oh, my God," I squealed. "Would you really get in touch with him for me?"

Harry nodded and chuckled softly. "Of course I would! You've helped me so much over the last few months, Jane and I can't thank you enough for all of your kind gestures and hospitality. It honestly means the world to me. No one else has been able to cheer me up quite as much as you have and I..."

The silence that fell between us was, funnily enough, deafening. It almost felt like the world had stopped turning and it was only Harry and I there, together, watching each other. His eyes, fierce emeralds were glued to my face while I anticipated what he was going to say.

Say, 'I love you.'

Say 'I love you.'

Say, 'I love you.'

"I hope that this is just as an amazing help to you as the help you've given me over the time we've known each other," he finally said.

I deflated, and he seemed to notice. Instantly, I regretted my selfish wish of wanting him to adore me as more than a friend. It was supposed to happen both ways; it was only my way as it stood. Harry was everything to me while I remained - and probably would forever - to be a something.

"I - thank you," I said, forcing a smile. I cleared my throat. "I honestly can't thank you enough."

"You don't sound too sincere," Harry noted and I flushed.

I was more than sincere! I was genuinely grateful and overwhelmed by his offer and yet I couldn't help but feel disappointed. I wanted nothing more than for him to love me like I loved him.

It just wasn't meant to be.

"I am, sorry," I said. "I'm just tired. Eating makes me feel groggy if it's too much."

Harry nodded, what I assumed was worry flashed over his features. It was soon gone just as quickly as it had been. I felt bad, guilty for not sounding more enthusiastic.

I was given a hand by Harry when cleaning away the left over food. I began to wash the dishes as he brought through the remaining food. Every so often he'd glance at me curiously and I'd just flash him a small smile.

Too bad that my smile was more of sadness than happiness.

"THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR tonight, Jane," Harry said as he stood at the door to leave. It was late and both of us had to be up, bright and early for work. Truthfully, I wanted nothing more than for Harry to stay the night and for us both to wake up side by side.

"Not at all," I said. "My pleasure. Couldn't eat all that by myself. Plus, I do get bored and lonely at times," I admitted and Harry just gave me one of his lop-sided grins.

"You know," he began, "I couldn't help but feel a little tension tonight."

I gulped and managed a half-chocked, "Oh?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I don't know if it was just me but you seemed a little uncomfortable. Did I say something?"

It's more like what you didn't say, I thought.

"No, honestly! I'm fine, Harry. Just really tired. Usually by this time on Sundays I'm lying on the couch watching the telly," I said. "It's just lack of sleep and the cooking and eating and..."

Harry just nodded and checked the time on his phone. "Well, thank you again. I had a great time. Maybe we can do it again sometime?"

Eagerly, I nodded. Perhaps I nodded a little too soon and quickly, for Harry just let out a throaty laugh and muttered a quick goodbye before suddenly stepping forward and embracing me in a tight hug. I instantly hugged him back, loving the warmth that radiated off of his body and onto mine. It was heavenly.

"Get home safe," I whispered to him just as he broke the hug.

"Oh, don't worry about me," he said. I thought that would be it, but no. He did something completely unexpected. He leaned forward until our noses were just about touching, and he gently kissed my cheek. If I hadn't been blushing before, I certain was after his lips touched me.

"I-" I started but Harry cut me off.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Jane. Sleep well."

Once Harry had left the building, my door was shut and my breathing had increased to ragged, chocking sounds that almost made it seem like an invisible force was strangling me to death, did I let out a confused and joyous, "Holy fuck, yes!"

A kiss on the cheek! Hell, that was something I'd not been expecting and I couldn't wait to see if it - my fingers were crossed - would happen once again, sometime soon.