"So, how was your first time?" Harry says with a smirk as he takes a drag of his cigarette.

The film has finished and we are sitting on the black and white outdoor setting I have on my balcony.  I love it out here, private but connected, and high enough to not hear conversations from the street but still have the hum of London traffic, which I now associate with being home.

"What?" I question defensively as I take a sip of my wine and try to formulate a response that indicates that we are definitely not close enough friends to be having that conversation.

"Relax Alexa, I meant the movie," he teases but I'm becoming well aware of the fact he likes to say things that deliberately make me uncomfortable.

The movie was great, but watching Harry watch it, was even better.  His face was alight with expression as his eyes danced across the screen, a boyish cackle breaking past his lips despite the fact he swore he had seen it at least fifty times.  The smirk that is usually plastered on his lips was non-existent and a genuinely happy smile took its place.

I had sat on the other couch and became more and more engrossed in the way he flicked the tip of his nose with a hooked index finger at the end of a hearty laugh or how he scratched his blunt nails up his tattooed forearm in the serious moments.

"I loved it, actually," I tell him honestly, lighting my own cigarette as he grins proudly and pours more wine into both our glasses.

Although he is still trying to play games, the tension between us has shifted as we relaxed together for a few hours.  Bit by bit, there seems to be a comfort level that's slowly making its way towards us from the horizon and I'm sure that if we ever hang out like this again, we could actually become great friends.

There are as many ways we are similar, as we are different. Yes, he is confident, social, and nothing really seems to phase him, but he's also incredibly hard working and understands the sacrifice needed to make it big in this industry and the level of self discipline it takes.

I can tell that, although he puts his feet up on the couch, he appreciates the finer things in life, the designer clothes on his back makes that pretty clear, as well as the fact he brought over a £100 bottle of wine to drink with the bag of crisps I found in my cupboard.

We seem to have the same sense of humour, laughing at the same bits in the movie,  although in the end, I was more amused by Harry's entertainment than anything else.  He would keep turning his laying body around at times to check if I was laughing along with him, his eyes creasing at the sides as he squeezed them shut to chuckle a little harder when he found me joining him.

Oddly specific little comments about my apartment made me think we have similar taste aesthetically, despite his adventurous fashion choices. "Great cushion. Hermès?" he asked as I nodded, impressed that any straight man would pick that up.  "Is your flooring Brazilian Oak? Never seen it stained this colour," he quizzed which lead to a discussion about what competitive advantages you can add to luxury apartments these days and although some may find the topic boring, it was refreshing to talk to someone outside of my family, who is just as passionate about things like this.

Wine, a bottle in, also seems to be helping lower inhibitions and my nerves are nowhere near at the neurotic level they normally are in his company.

"Was it life-changing?" he prods about the movie, his dimple popping in his cheek and I have the biggest urge to poke my finger into it.

"Umm," I exaggerate, looking up to the night sky as if I'm considering the impact. "Look, I wouldn't say life-changing, but I definitely feel a lot more in the loop!" I laugh and he throws his head back too.

He has such an enchanting laugh, completely indescribable, as it mixes a little youth and a lot of sex appeal together, all with his husky undertone that makes my spine tingle.

"We should have done this last night," he admits casually, flicking ash into the ashtray on the table between us and I feel my scalp prickle with anxiety.

"Bad date?" I question with caution, not sure if I want to know more information about who is he seeing but equally desperate for every minor detail.

"Yeah, she was so... dull," he emphasises the last word, not giving me any more information and my insecurities yell silently at me that no matter who this girl is, there is no way she's as boring as I am.

I shrug defensively as if he has just insulted me and not a complete stranger and I take another drag.

"Hmm, well, no 'action' then?" I try to lighten the conversation and poke fun at the ridiculous comment that came out of my mouth last night.

"Oh, I didn't say that, I said she was dull," he exhales a puff of smoke and my mouth drops open as a knowing smile creeps up his cheeks.

"You're disgusting," I automatically retort and instead of being offended he seems rather pleased with himself.

"What?" he laughs. "Oh come on, Lexi, we're both adults here. I mean sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do, right? She was there for the same reasons, trust me," he huffs with amusement and butts out his smoke in order to lean closer.

Harry has this ability to make you feel like you're the only person on the planet, his stare so intense that you are sure not even a hurricane could distract him.  When he speaks, he always makes eye contact, almost uncomfortably so, but only because his eyes are so focused that you feel a little self conscious... or maybe that's just me.

"Even Miss I-don't-date needs to get it from somewhere. So, don't make out like you're all innocent, you either have one night stands as well or you have a fuck-buddy?"

I'm so uncomfortable I want to drown in my wine.

I don't know what's making me more on edge, getting into a conversation with him about my non-existent sex life or imagining having a thriving one with Harry. I choose not to answer him, taking a gulp of wine instead as his eyes become serious and he tries to decode my reaction.

"Why are you being such a prude? It's always the ones you least expect that have the craziest stories?" he presses, clearly loving it.

"I'm not a prude," I try to say but it's mixed with a laugh that's so nervous that I actually sound like a schoolgirl.

"Oh god, are you a virgin?" he asks with a gasp and wide eyes and I choke on my own tongue.

"What! No! Harry, for fuck's sake. Are you serious?" I spit and he cackles into the air.

"Just checking! You're very uptight, you never know," he winks to soften the blow and my body doesn't know how to react, my temper rising but getting knocked swiftly out of the way by the swarm of fluttering butterflies in my stomach.

I twirl the ends of my hair and am just about to ask if he wants to watch another movie as he pushes his chair back, his arms stretching up towards the sky and I can't help my attention being dragged down to his exposed stomach, two large laurels tattooed above each hip bone and descending towards his navel.

The smile on his face eludes me to the fact knows exactly what kind of effect he has on me.

"Thanks for the fun night Patterson, but I better be going.  No doubt you have to disinfect every surface in here back to hospital-grade," he chuckles as I roll my eyes at him.

I follow him to the door, trying to hide my disappointment and trying to send him telepathic signals to kiss me when he pulls open the heavy front door.

"Oh, your DVD," I remember, elated I found an excuse for a couple more seconds with him.

"I'll grab it later, m'sure you wanna watch it another hundred or so times," he smirks and I try not to pout.

I hold my breath as he leans against the door to prop it open, his green eyes searching mine and I swear time stops and I can feel every cell in my body stand to attention.

His thumb reaches out to hold my chin and his eyes are fixated on my mouth as he slowly pulls my bottom lip away from my top.

I look from his focused gaze to his own lips, his tongue darting out to wet them and just before I throw caution to the wind and rush forward, he pulls away.

"Night, Lexi."