A/N: Sorry guys, I uploaded the wrong chapter - unbeta-ed. This is the correct one. Never upload late at night when you're tired and sleepy. Thanks to Joe for pointing out the mistakes.
Sometimes, Rose wished that she did not jinx herself. Especially when it came to dates post-Doctor. It was not as though most men could not live up to the Doctor. No, that was untrue. The truth of the matter was that it was impossible for most human men to live up to the Doctor. Most human men were boringly domestic, even if they did travel and adventured for a living, setting their sights mostly on Earth.
However, Harry Saxon was something else entirely. Oh, the sweetheart was certainly trying. He would have, in another universe where Rose was not a shop girl who rescued a time -raveling alien, been perfect. He was, after all, the perfect gentleman: he opened the door for her, he listened attentively when she spoke, he asked her if she wanted a drink and then dutifully brought the champagne for her when she asked.
He was handsome too, delightfully so, his dirty blonde hair neatly combed, though he looked mostly confused this evening and did not quite fit into the tuxedo. He was bashfully shy, almost charmingly so. He was educated and he was polite; her mother would have loved him.
His only flaw? He was boring. Tediously boring. So boring that she wanted to hit her head against one of the many sculptures they had on display at the gallery, one of the many Vitex Industries had sponsored for this particular show.
It was the opening of the art gallery sponsored by Vitex, filled with beautiful and important people, keen to be seen, keen to be seen with Vitex Industries. Usually, Rose hated attending these events. They bored her, and the people who attended bored her as they flattered her incessantly in hopes of making a business connection.
Her usual M.O for these events was to arm herself with a lovely arm candy, a date that she would focus her attention on. The date's duty would be to manage the monotony of these sorts of events. Rose truly loved art, she did, but openings of art galleries tend to attract the sort of sycophants that she would rather not deal with.
But Harry here…
'And then in the 1980s, with Vitex's competitor developing the energy drink, with its slow release of glucose...'
The history of energy drinks. Really.
'So tell me, Rose, how did you come up with the concoction for a low-calorie version of Vitex?' he asked.
Rose took a big gulp of her champagne. It went straight to her head and she felt a little dizzy. This was her fourth glass. Any more, and she might end up doing something she would completely regret with Harry.
'I paid the best scientists to come up with something,' Rose replied, a little more bluntly than she intended. Oops, there went the Vitex's carefully constructed story of Rose sitting down in a lab cooking up a recipe for the weight-conscious clientele.
'Oh!' said Harry, somewhat perplexed by Rose's statement.
'It's alright. I figured that I was helping people, through job creation and stuff,' Rose said, taking another sip of her champagne. She thought it did not taste right, and in a manner supremely unladylike, spat back the drink into her glass lest she got completely pissed.
'I'm sure you're just being modest,' Harry said gamely. 'You're under-estimating your genius.'
'Uh. No. I think I told the scientists I needed something that won't make me put on weight when I drink the stuff at night,' Rose continued bluntly. 'Are those salmon canapés? I had a friend who loved nibbles. I should try them.'
'Oh,' Harry repeated, this time somewhat disappointed.
Rose made a bee-line towards one of the waiters. She had finished her drink already, and she thought of taking another. There was a strong possibility that with every minute spent with Harry meant another minute of being closer to making a decision she might regret. With foresight severely diminishing by the minute, Rose whipped out her phone and texted Mickey to rescue her.
'Rose, is everything alright?'
'What?' she asked. 'Fine! Fine. Everything is good. Excellent.' She stuffed her phone back in her purse. She stopped a waiter who was making his rounds, and picked up another glass of champagne.
'Um, is it wise to be drinking this much?' Harry asked mildly.
'Drinking this much? What? No. I'm a Vitex girl. Vitex helps me metabolize all this alcohol, really quickly.'
'But, that's not actually been proven,' Harry replied seriously. He looked torn, as though he wondered if he should take the glass away from her. 'According to the research done by Smith and Kline in 2004, not to accuse your product of being anything less than worthy, the claim that Vitex helps hangovers was at best inconclusive.'
Rose took that as a challenge, and downed the entire glass. Her father was going to ask her the next day if she entertained any of Vitex's clients the next day, and she would have to tell him, well, she didn't because the man he set her up with was dull, dull, dull, dull, dull.
'Perhaps I ought to take you home,' Harry said, a little hurt.
'No! No,' said Rose. Despite edging towards being somewhat wasted, somewhere in the vestiges/corners of her mind, the little part where Jackie Tyler, single mother, brought her up good and proper, came to the fore and she felt guilty at the way she was treating Harry Saxon. It was not his fault that he was so boring. It was not as though he chose to be that way.
She closed her eyes to steady herself. 'I'm sorry, Harry, work's been rough. I really should not be behaving this way.'
Rose's phone beeped, receiving a text message. She opened her purse and checked her phone. Damn Mickey. He was her best friend. As best friends, he ought to be there for her. So what if there was a minor hostile alien just outside London. Not coming to pick her up was just rude.
'Perhaps we ought to go back,' Harry said earnestly. 'This scene is not exactly exciting.'
Rose held back the 'Kettle, meet pot' that nearly rolled off her tongue. She took a deep breath and thought, she was just being severe to Harry. She nodded and thought, at the very least this was the last she was going to deal with Harry again. Except at work. Maybe.
In the work context, at the very least it was not going to be in any potentially romantic circumstance.
Harry, despite Rose's behaviour which could only be aptly described as being a bitch, still remained a gentleman. Instead of chalking Rose's behaviour up to her being an uncouth and spoilt princess, he dutifully escorted her out the gallery through the front doors, all the while chatting to her.
Except Rose did not usually exit the front doors. She usually exited through the back doors since the paparazzi would be waiting at the front door.
Which Harry naively was unaware of. The moment they stepped out of the museum doors, flashes of light from cameras went off in a manic frenzy. Coupled with Rose's red-face from too many drinks, Rose knew that this would make for several unflattering headlines in the upcoming gossip rags.
'Blimey,' Harry said. 'Does this happen often?'
'More often than you think,' she said through gritted teeth. Rose slipped her arm through Harry's; she could see him turn a pale shade of pink when she did so. 'Keep walking and pay no attention to them.'
There were questions being tossed around by the paparazzi as they walked down the steps. Harry was looking more and more bewildered by the press.
'Rose, Rose, who's this man in your life?'
'How far is this going to go?'
'Are there wedding bells in the making, love?'
Wedding bells! Rose thought indignantly. Harry still dutifully escorted her to the taxi. 'Um,' Rose started.
Harry took charge, opened the door and led her in. 'Rest, Miss Tyler. You need it.'
Not for the first time tonight, Rose felt terrible. There was nothing actually wrong with Harry. It just was not his fault he was terribly boring and despite her less than sober ways, he still helped her to the taxi with no sense of malice or judgment radiating from him.
'Thank you, Harry,' she replied genuinely.
He shrugged. And out of an impulse, just before the door of the taxi closed, Rose shouted back, 'Call me!' despite knowing full well that she probably would not answer.
She could just be so stupid.
The look of surprise on Harry's face was genuine. He had a slightly silly smile plastered as he closed the door of the taxi. Rose realized with a sinking feeling that Harry had a crush on her, and she certainly was not helping things by shouting things like call her.
This was why she did not date. It was not just that no one could live up to the Doctor. All that time spent with the Doctor meant she picked up all his bad habits, including leading people on, making promises that he couldn't keep.
She ought to stick to only dating alien men.
