I'm pretty sure it was a Thursday night that I met him. I just remember it being really odd; not only did people rarely come to my tiny little apartment, but it was late and no one had said they were planning on popping in. It was about half eleven, and I'd just got out of the bath after seriously losing all sense of time. The doorbell went, and then again, so I threw a towel around and ran as fast as I could without slipping over to see who it was, thinking it must have been some kind of emergency. I opened the door. And there he was; this tall, incredibly gorgeous guy just standing there on my doorstep. Never seen him in my life. Just standing there. Being sexy.
"Hi. Um, any chance I could borrow a match or lighter…?" He said, leaning on the door post and looking me up and down. "You just moved in?" He asked, before I'd even had a chance to answer his first question. I pulled up the towel and opened the door a little more.
"No, I've been living here for at least a year now. And… what exactly do you want the match for?" I answered.
"I got a doubie just waitin' to be smoked. And also, how have you been living here a year and never hit on me?" He replied arrogantly. As he said the last bit of his sentence, he'd raised an eyebrow and displayed a cheeky grin. I felt my legs go wobbly.
"If it's for drugs, you can shove it sir. I refuse to let you get high, especially near my house." I went to shut the door, but he stopped me suddenly by grabbing it with his hands.
"Sir? I like that. And you didn't answer my other question?"
"I don't hit on guys. Especially guys as big headed as you. Goodbye now?"
"You don't hit on guys? So… you're a lesbian? Hot!" He exclaimed, eyes widening like saucers.
"Now, see, you've got it wrong again. You're really cheeky, you know that? What will it take for you to get off of my doorstep?"
"Well…" He started, looking up to the ceiling of the hallway and pretending to be thinking hard, "I think you'd have to invite me in, basically."
I was so sure I was going to get laid the second she sighed and agreed to let me in. I mean, what kind of girl accepts a stranger into their apartment when dressed in nothing but a cheeky little towel? But as soon as she sat me down on the sofa with a cup of tea, she hovered away into her bedroom and came out in pyjamas. It was then obvious to me that she wasn't up for any sexy time.
"I notice that at the moment, I have a complete randomer in my flat? What's your name, boy?" She asked, propping herself up on a stool near the bar. She couldn't have been any further away from me if she tried.
"I honestly can't believe you don't know me. I'm the Sex God of this area? The Ultimate love maker, the best a girl can get, the party starter, the centre of attention?" Her gaze was blank. She really had absolutely no idea who I was. Weird stuff. "Harry Marsh."
She did a double take and practically fell off her chair sideways.
"You're Harry Marsh? You? Oh gosh, I've heard things about you. Lots of things." She said, taking a sip of her tea and nodding at her own statement.
"Who you've slept with, what you did at parties, how damn rich you are… and other things."
"How big some things apparently are.""I repeat, such as?"
"A certain snake in the trouser area."
I stopped. I raised an eyebrow.
"And how big is this snake, hmm?"
She grinned mischievously and got up off the stool, padding round the bar and emptying the sugary remains of her tea into the sink. Not once did she turn around to face me as she answered.
"Let's just say it isn't small." She returned to her seat promptly, munching a biscuit. And then she looked at me and smiled. "Apparently."
Oh, this girl. I like this girl.
3rd Person's P.O.V
The night went on, and more cups of tea were served. Eventually, the little hand on the clock in Andrea's living room rolled onto the 3, and she insisted that Harry go home, immediately.
"Okay Harry seriously; this is beyond late, I never stay up this late. Ever! You have to go home." She said, taking hold of his forearms and attempting to pull the reluctant guy off the sofa. He moaned.
"Oh you. How lame is that? How old are you and you haven't stayed up this late before? It's fun to stay up late."
Andrea gave up pulling him; at five foot two and following the usual tiny frame of her Korean ancestors, there was no way in hell she'd ever succeed in getting him off the sofa. Not with her physical strength anyway.
"How is staying up late fun?" She asked, lightly kicking him the shin and hoping that that might inspire some movement in his body. It did. But only his mouth.
"Andrea, I can show you how fun it can be. It will include a bed, some chocolate sauce and a--"
"Get out!! You cheeky minx, get out!"
He finally stood up and, with a reluctant slowness, began to walk towards the door. Stopping and looking over his shoulder at Andrea replacing the pillows, he suddenly noticed how short the night-shirt was that she was wearing. He also noticed that he now knew the colour of her knickers.
"I think white knickers look cute on you."
She stood up abruptly and covered her bum with her hands.
"You… you think what!?!!"
"But they'd look so much better on my bedroom floor."
"Leave! Leave, leave, leave, leave, leave!!!"
He laughed out loud, greatly enjoying the fact that Andrea was now actively pushing him towards the door. She opened it and shoved him out, but didn't manage to find the courage to slam the door on his oh-so-perfect face. Harry did the buttons up on his coat and sighed, leaning against the doorpost again.
"It has been most interesting meeting you, Miss Hart. We shall meet again." He half whispered, a little playful glimmer dancing around in his autumn-brown eyes.
"I suppose we shall. Goodnight." And with that, she closed the door.
Andrea quickly changed her knickers, feeling weird that Harry knew what colour they were. Scrunching her long orange-brown hair into a messy bun, she jumped into bed and wrapped her arms around a pillow, squeezing it with disbelief. Had she really just spent three and a half hours with The Harry Marsh? And… did he really see her knickers??
Harry shoved his hands in the pockets of his trench coat and breathed heavily into the crisp early morning air. It was beyond freezing; the snow would no doubt be falling in the next few days. His mind was wavering between two things; Andrea, the somewhat intriguing half-Korean girl he'd just met by chance, and the doubie waiting for him on the coffee table when he got in. However during the time it took him to simply cross the road and unlock the door to his penthouse, he'd forgotten about the weed. He simply walked straight past it, ripped his clothes off and fell on his bed. Andrea Hart. Now there was an interesting girl.