"Is this seat taken?"
Lily turned toward the voice to see none other than James Potter, hazel eyes and tousled black hair as perfect in real life as on the silver screen.
"It's yours if you want it," she returned, secretly proud of how steady her voice sounded. Inwardly, her brain was scrambling to remind her of every poster she'd ever had of James, every article, and interview she'd scoured the internet to find, and every one of the innumerable times she'd sobbed over his BAFTA-award winning performance in Cry For The Hills.
James smiled his thanks and slid onto the stool next to hers. "Not from around here, are you?" His voice was warm, almost sultry; a far cry from the awkward but funny guy she'd seen in interviews.
"That's correct."
"Here alone?"
"Correct again."
"What brings you to Glasgow?" He tried next.
"Just visiting." Lily stared straight ahead at the wall of coloured glass bottles behind the bar. Much as she wanted to, she could not make herself look at him. How many times had she fantasized about a moment exactly like this? A hundred? More like a thousand. And now she couldn't put more than two words together. It wasn't like her to be so star-struck. But then, she'd never met James Potter before. And he was nothing like what she had imagined.
James watched her speculatively while she toyed with the straw in her empty glass. After a moment, he nodded, decisively. "Can I buy you a drink?"
Now she looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. Why would he want to buy her a drink? He was James-bloody-Potter! She was nobody. Was it a prank? He certainly seemed sincere. Really, she argued with herself, what did she have to lose? She glanced furtively at the bartender, who nodded almost imperceptibly. Turning back to James, she smiled shyly and accepted his offer. He smiled back and signaled the bartender.
"I'll have a single of the Talisker 10-year, neat, and a refill of whatever the lady is having."
There was an awkward moment of silence while they waited for their drinks. Lily was quiet, deliberating how to respond to this unlooked-for attention. On the few occasions men had approached her, they had wanted exactly one thing. What did James Potter want? Still, she wasn't going to reject outright the very man she'd had a crush on for the last two years. It couldn't hurt to give him a few minutes of her time, could it? She made her decision as she received her drink, a gin sour, minus the maraschino cherry garnish.
James took an appreciative sip of his whiskey before angling his body to face Lily. Leaning casually against the polished bar, he rumpled his hair with his free hand and gave her his charming, world famous grin. "Not to overuse the cliché, but what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"
Lily's back stiffened. So that was how he wanted it? Well, two could play that game. "A place like this?" she echoed archly. "It's a very nice place. And I don't mind the cliché, but you're assuming a bit much."
Bingo. A crack appeared in the façade. "Oh? How's that?" he asked.
Emboldened by catching him off guard, she tilted her head coyly. "You're assuming I'm a nice girl."
He laughed suddenly, and his affectation of polished charisma disappeared completely. "You're quick. I guess we don't know anything about each other, do we?"
Lily smirked and leaned back in her seat, confident that she had the upper hand now. "Oh no?" Taking a long sip from her drink, she surveyed him coolly, then set the glass down with a precise click. "James Henry Potter, 29, born March 27, 1990, in Carlisle. Studied at the Central School of Speech and Drama in London, despite having shown incredible promise as an athlete in secondary school. After completing your course at Central you stayed in London for a few years to build your career, doing very well for yourself, but of course the big break that elevated you to international stardom was being cast as Owen Ward on Cry For The Hills, for which role you have won several awards. Shall I go on?"
His disbelief at the beginning of her recital had dissolved into a valiant, albeit futile, effort at keeping a straight face. When she finished, he chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. "Ah, no, thanks. Alright, you've made your point." His smile now was completely sincere, the one in her favorite pictures of him that were totally not pinned to a secret Pinterest board. He extended his hand and said simply, "James. But you already knew that."
Feeling repentant for having teased him, she shook his hand politely. "Lily."
"Facts aren't everything you know," he commented, sipping his whiskey.
"How do you mean?"
"I mean, you still don't know who I am; what kind of person and all that."
"Speak for yourself, but I think I do.
"And what kind of person am I?" he baited her.
"Too much of a gentleman to hit on the girl at the bar like this. So, what's your deal?"
"Going for the direct approach, eh?"
"I've always found it best to be up front and honest, yes."
"I like that. Alright. I would like to have dinner with you. Tonight. Now, in fact."
Caution alarms in Lily's brain made her hesitate. "Why?" she asked bluntly, too confused to be polite.
"One reason." He leaned in, placed his hand on the back of her chair, and whispered. "I would like the chance to get to know you at least as well as you know me."
Was she crazy to say yes? Would it be crazier to say no? She couldn't just keep him waiting, she had to decide. "Yes."
He sat back, startled. "Yes?"
His surprise, once again, gave her the advantage. "Yes. Now, I am going to pay my tab," she moved towards him, imitating his whisper. "While you go collect your twenty quid off your friend sitting in the corner." She leaned back, fighting a grin of smug triumph.
James stared at her in open-mouthed shock. "How?"
She lifted one shoulder slightly. "I have an arrangement with the bartender; he's my Linus." She signaled said gentleman for her tab. "Meet me outside?"
"No. I don't want to let you out of my sight. You're clever."
"Thank you. But don't you want to collect your winnings?" Lily quickly paid her bill, gathered her handbag, and slipped off her barstool to stand beside James. Suddenly, her 5-feet 6-inches felt ridiculously small beside his lean, 6-foot 2-inch frame.
Instead of answering her, he simply watched, eyes thoughtful. "Want to make it forty?" he asked suddenly.
"I'm sorry?"
"Forty pounds, my winnings. I'd give you half."
Once again, alarm bells went off in Lily's head, but she hushed them quickly. "What would I have to do?" she asked warily.
"May I kiss you?"
Damn, thinking rationally was difficult when confronted with those hazel eyes. Well, Evans, she rationalized, you've gone this far. In for a penny, in for a pound. And you did promise Marlene you'd take this chance if you ever got it. "On the cheek, but make him believe it."
James smiled crookedly and placed his hands gently on either side of her face. "No worries there," he murmured. Briefly, but tenderly, he pressed a kiss just at the corner of her mouth, almost her lips, and Lily thought wildly that normal life would fall terribly flat after such a moment.
James straightened, eyes bright but face unreadable. He gave her a moment to collect herself before extending his arm. "Shall we?"
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Through the hotel lobby and out to the street, James didn't say a word. Each passing second of silence added to the rising panic in Lily's chest. Was he regretting asking her out? Had he hated kissing her? It hadn't even been on the lips, really. Or was it that—now that he had kissed her—any previous attraction was gone? Because there had to have been some attraction initially, or he wouldn't have asked her out, even for a wager, right? Why wouldn't he just say something?
It took only a minute for the valet to bring James' car around; he very kindly held her door before seating himself behind the wheel. Then he just sat there. Silent. Motionless.
"Ah," he said at last. "Where to?"
"Oh," Lily gasped. "I have no idea."
"Is there anywhere you prefer?"
She shook her head. "Not yet, haven't been here long enough."
He turned slightly to see her better in the car's darkened interior. "Do you like seafood?"
She nodded. Without another word, he put the car in gear and eased into traffic.
Half an hour later, Lily eased back into the dark green plush of the high-backed booth and looked around her in awe. Golden light directed upwards from geometric sconces bathed the high ceiling in a dim glow and reflected back down to illuminate the polished oak wainscoting and chrome trim of the Art Deco décor.
"I can't believe you got a table at Café Rogano on fifteen minutes' notice," she breathed.
"You know this place?"
"Know of it, yes. Never thought I'd get in, though."
"There are some benefits to being James Potter, I suppose."
"Speaking of the benefits of being rich and famous, who on earth bets money against you in a wager like that?"
James chuckled. "That would be my best mate, Sirius Black."
"Is he an idiot?"
"No, he just has eternal faith in my abysmal skills with women."
Having a drink in his hand once more seemed to have loosened James' tongue. Sequestered in a booth at the far end of the café, they observed the dinner traffic moving around them, as though their booth was an island in a stream, surrounded by noise and motion but removed from it.
They weren't seated opposite each other, nor were they exactly side by side. Lily was able to watch her dinner partner from the corner of her eye, feeling oddly familiar with him, and more than a little guilty about the hours she'd spent researching him over the last couple years. She knew how he spoke, how he moved, at least on camera. It gave her an unfair advantage now.
She snuck a more direct look at him now, and he glanced up and smiled before returning to his menu. Lily blushed and dropped her gaze to her own menu, forcing herself to focus.
"Anything look interesting?" James queried.
"Everything."
"Want to split oysters to start?"
"Hmm, I was looking at the mussels. That might be too much of the same to have both."
"What would you have if not the mussels?"
"The tagliatelle looks incredible," she admitted. "I shouldn't, but I want to, so bad."
"Done." James plucked the menu neatly from her hands. "If I've learned one thing it's that doing what you should is highly overrated, especially when it comes to food."
Lilly smirked. "Then how do you keep in shape?"
"My trainer understands my occasional indulgences," he replied loftily, then grinned. "But he also makes me pay for them."
The waiter materialized by their table to take their order.
"We will start with the Six Rockefeller Oysters," James began. "Then my friend will have the Hot Smoked Salmon and Seafood Tagliatelle, and I will have the Pan Fried North Atlantic Cod."
The water nodded crisply, took the menus, and disappeared as silently as he had come.
"So, seafood fan, eh? Did you grow up near the coast?"
Lily shook her head. "Cambridge, actually. I picked up my taste for it on the Amalfi Coast."
"What took you there?"
She shrugged. "Some girlfriends and I did a gap year together; traveled most of Europe and north Africa."
"Why north Africa?"
She shrugged again. "Everybody sees Europe, don't they?"
James scooted closer. "No, no, no. No short answers. Fair is only fair, and since you know my story already, I want to hear yours from start to finish." He leaned forward, stared intently into her eyes, and waited.
Lily blinked, then burst into giggles. Instantly, James retreated, a startled, worried confusion covering his features.
"I'm sorry, did I ask too much? I'm so sorry!"
"No, it's fine," Lily hastened to reassure him. "You just looked so much like a puppy waiting for a treat. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have laughed."
James chuckled good-naturedly and ran a hand through his hair. "I guess I must have. Although if it's canine resemblances you want, you ought to talk to Sirius, not me."
"I don't follow."
"Let's just say I've gotten into trouble more than once because I couldn't resist his puppy dog eyes."
"Oh dear."
"That's more like it. Now, your story?"
"Not a whole lot to tell, I'm afraid."
"Nonsense! You're young, gorgeous, and on holiday in Scotland. That alone is interesting."
Lily fixed her eyes on her napkin and wondered if she would ever recover from James Potter calling her gorgeous. I don't think he even knows he did it, she thought.
"Well," she began out loud. "Like I said, I was raised in Cambridge. We moved there when I was six because my dad got a job there. He was a teacher."
"Was?"
"He and my mum both passed away a few years ago."
"Oh my gosh, Lily, I'm so sorry. Don't say more if you don't want."
She smiled, barely. "It's okay. You couldn't have known. My mum had cancer; it was—sudden. And after she passed, well, my dad just—he couldn't get on without her, you know?"
James nodded sadly. She knew that he knew. It was no secret that his parents had died within months of each other before he was 20. James reached across the flatware to place his hand over hers.
Lily smiled her appreciation and took a deep breath. "Anyway, ah, I had a good childhood—happy."
"Any siblings?"
"A sister. She's older though; we aren't close. We pretty much went our separate ways when Dad died."
"Again, I'm sorry. I keep asking all the wrong questions."
Before she could answer, their food arrived, and Lily realized with a start that James still held her hand in his. He gave her hand a quick squeeze before letting go. They ate in silence, savoring each exquisite bite, but after a few minutes Lily continued.
"It is what it is. Life is just something you deal with sometimes. And I have some pretty fantastic friends to make up for a horrible sister."
"The friends you traveled with?"
"The same. We went through school together, did everything together, really. It only made sense to travel together too."
"And—hopefully this isn't another bad question—are you still close?"
"Oh, absolutely! When we finally came home we scattered a bit, going to different universities, but we always stayed in touch and spent holidays together. Our first Christmas home from uni, we were having a girl's night and got to talking about all the things we missed about travelling, and the places we'd seen. We started recreating them whenever we could. During holidays at first, then after graduation we all ended up back in Cambridge and we started doing it once a month."
"What would you recreate? Food?"
"Food, yes, but more the whole experience, the atmosphere of a place we had loved or connected with."
"Sounds like fun. Just for yourselves?"
"That's how it started. Then one person invites some friends from work, then another brings her boyfriend, then things get more and more elaborate, and before you know it you're all spending more time and effort on your hobby than your job and you figure you might as well make it your job."
"What did you do then?" James was leaning forward again, thoroughly caught up in Lily's life story.
"The only thing we could do! We opened a shop."
"Brilliant! What kind of shop? And what's it called?"
"It's called L'Histoire. It's a bakery and lunch place, and we sometimes cater or host private parties."
"Themed, I'm assuming."
Lilly laughed. "Sort of. It's a crazy, wild fusion of each of our favorite places. Sometimes one has a stronger influence, sometimes another."
"Which places were your favorites?"
"Alice loved France, not just Paris but all of it, so there's lots of that, especially since she's our pastry chef. Marlene fell in love with Italy, and Dorcas lost her heart to Eastern Europe. Romania, Ukraine, etc."
"And what about you?"
Lily's smile became introspective. "Morocco."
She fell silent, and James returned to his food, giving Lily a moment before clearing his throat. "Must be quite the shop you have then."
Lily smiled and nodded.
"I'm curious. If you own and operate a proper business, what brings you to Glasgow now? Wouldn't summer be your busiest season?"
"It is," she admitted. "But, Marlene and Dorcas are expanding, and I wasn't sure I wanted to commit to the shop as a full career for the rest of my life, so I stepped back. I'll be a silent partner until I figure out what my next move is."
"You didn't enjoy running the shop after all?"
"I did, but there has to be more to life than working a job, right? Even one you love."
"I don't know," he mused. "I mean, take me for example. I'd been in the school plays going back to when I was a stag in a primary school production of Bambi, and I'd enjoyed it, always had a flare for the dramatic, my mum said. But I never figured on it for a career; I wanted to play football. Then I had knee surgery the summer before my last year at school, which meant I was out for the season, but I could still act, so I focused on that. And by the time I was recovered enough to get back into sport, it had all sort of passed me by. Lost my window, I suppose, and I wasn't happy about it either. But I decided I had to do something, and damned if I was going to do something ordinary, so I went ahead with acting, and—it was brilliant. I got into Central in London, and really made a go of it, though I did my share of pulling pints and pouring coffee at first." He gave a short laugh, then paused, thinking seriously. "It's still a job; a career. Technically, I work, I get paid. I guess my point is, I was lucky enough to discover something I really love, and that I'm good at. I've been helped along the way, and now I can't imagine doing anything else. It's sort of become my life."
Lily couldn't take her eyes off of him as he talked. He was so expressive, without even trying, or being aware of how much his eyes gave away. Suddenly, he wasn't speaking anymore, but staring back at her just as intently. She jumped a little and hastily turned her attention to the last bites of her food.
"Well, um, you're one of the lucky ones. You found what doesn't feel like a job. I looked around me and realized I'd been sitting behind a desk almost my whole life. School, uni, work, everything except my gap year. And that was the time I remembered the best."
"Behind a desk?"
"I was the office manager for our business, so I didn't get out in the shop much, and the busier we became, the less I left the office."
"What's your degree?"
"Political Science and Economics."
"Which meant you were the best option for a business manager."
"I was the best qualified of the four, yes."
He pushed his empty plate away and sat back. "And so the girl who's done it all sets off in search of more."
Lily drew back, frowning. There was a teasing note in his tone she didn't care for. She had nearly forgotten, in the ease of their conversation and the connection that had sprung up between them, that he was still practically a stranger. Not only a stranger, but an incredibly famous one. He was right: knowing about him didn't mean she knew him. And here she'd told him her whole life story. Not smart, Evans, she berated herself.
"I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?" James was worried by her prolonged silence.
"No, sorry," Lily fibbed. "I just—was thinking." She smiled brightly and changed the topic. "Tell me about the youth programs you work with."
For the rest of the evening, through dessert of crème brûlée and sticky toffee pudding and coffee, she kept the conversation strictly away from anything personal. James regaled her with stories from projects he'd worked on, he shared about the charities and causes he supported, but he didn't offer anything more about his personal life either, and Lily wasn't about to ask.
Eventually, he paid the bill and escorted her back to his car. "Where can I take you?" he asked.
Lily gave the address of a coffee shop near her hotel.
"Are you sure? I don't mind taking you right to your hotel. It's no trouble."
"Thanks, but I've got a couple emails to take care of. If I go to my hotel, I'll fall asleep and never get my work done."
He looked unconvinced. She noticed that two little lines appeared between his eyebrows when he was thinking. He was adorable. Why? Why did she have to be attracted to someone so completely unattainable?
"It's fine," she insisted. "It's only around the corner to where I'm staying from there; an easy walk."
"Well, alright then. If you're sure."
"I am."
By the time James pulled up in front of the coffee shop, Lily had almost convinced herself that any interest he had shown was simply him being nice. There was no way James Potter would actually be interested in her. Celebrities dated other celebrities, or at least other high-profile people with causes and charities and massive followings on Instagram. Not shop accountants from Cambridge.
James parked and hurried around to open her door. Of course he was a perfect gentleman; he was just perfect. Then came the most awkward moment of any date: saying good night.
"Thank you for a lovely evening," she began primly, then caved and smiled up at him. "I had an amazing time."
"So did I," he said, smiling too.
They had smiled a lot that evening; he made her smile.
"Hey, thank your mate for daring you to ask me out. I owe him one."
James laughed, then stepped closer and held her gaze. "Thanks for saying yes."
The air between them crackled. James lifted his hand as if to take hers, then dropped it.
"Well, uh, I guess I should let you go then. Emails await."
"Right, yes. Can't—ah—get behind." Lily found it hard to breathe all of a sudden. Where had the oxygen gone? "Thanks again," she finished lamely.
"Yeah, no, I had a really nice time." He began backing away towards his car. "Well, good night, Lily."
She gave him a tiny wave, and he was gone. "Good bye, James," she whispered.
Lily stood outside the coffee shop for several minutes, watching the spot where his taillights disappeared around the corner. Then she sighed, shrugged, and turned into the light and warmth of the shop.