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I wait on the porch for the taxi to arrive, alone. It’s been almost thirty five minutes and instantly I’m thinking, 'He’s late!'

Not the best start.

But I try to push the negative thoughts away and really take in Rosie’s words. It’s an adventure, I am getting myself out of the house which is a huge step forward, it’s something I could gossip to my friends about; and of course I am a little curious about what it would be like to spend the day with this famous guy.

Besides, it takes two to tango.

I roll my eyes chuckling to myself as that saying I think every mother uses at some stage in their lives whilst talking to their daughters - sounds hilarious coming from me.

I really need to give mum a call.

My thoughts quickly drift to my parents and how worried they must be. I haven’t spoken to them since they moved to Queensland, which was around the same time that my beloved and I broke up. I haven’t really spoken to anyone. I decide that after my day with Mr Musician I will call my mum and let her know I’m alright, despite not
really
being okay. So maybe I should just settle for letting her know that I am alive.

That works.

Just then a white taxi pulls up in the kerb and I immediately take long, striding steps towards the rear door. As soon as I reach the handle, the door automatically opens and slowly swings out in front of me. Surprised, I raise my sight to look inside and am met with those striking icy blue eyes. It’s Jay. I gasp at both the astonishment of seeing him there and the intensity his gaze hits me with. His text clearly said he would send a car for me but never mentioned he would be in it. I just assumed I would be meeting him somewhere. I look down, away from his face and slide into the rear seat closing the door behind me; still making a conscious effort not to look at him. I blush.

"Nice to see you again Penelope," he states smoothly. That cold, shrilling monotone cutting through my insides and forcing me to slowly turn my face to meet his. I smile nervously.

"So where are you taking me?" he continues, a slight arrogant smirk across his face.

Huh?

Oh, you so know what you are doing.

My good conscious shakes her head at me disapprovingly.

"Where do you want to go?" I ask surprisingly sarcastic raising my eyebrows to emphasise my tone; feeling quite proud of myself for matching his attempt at overconfidence.

He doesn’t answer me, but continues his stare. That dark unemotional gaze that looks right into my soul. I shake the feelings off me, my routine stubbornness claiming all of its glory.

"Argyle Street, The Rocks please," I turn and call assertively to the driver.

There!

As the car leaves the kerb of Rosie’s terrace, I turn my gaze towards Jay. He is sitting completely still on his side of the vehicle, so casually and naturally.

Wow, he is pretty hot. Rosie’s right.

He is so damn attractive that it’s almost unbelievable. It's like he isn’t even real. The perfect way his brown hair stands sexily tall, without even a hint of hair product; and his smooth fair skin perfectly complementing the contrast between his darker hair and pale blue eyes. He is dressed so effortlessly today in slim black jeans and a thin white tee which sits loosely on his firm body - yet is fragile enough to see the toned outline of his sculptured body beneath it. His strong left leg crossed over his right, all the way down to his lace up boots which aren’t even done up all the way to the top.

He’s
that
cool
,
my conscious quips at me sarcastically.

I feel so out of my league.

I glance down towards my outfit that I threw on this morning and it doesn’t seem to impress me enough at all. Not for the fact that I am sharing a car with someone famous, who is probably used to much more beautiful and well-dressed company. I feel queasy just thinking about it.

"The Rocks?" his sleek tone questions, forcing my eyes to look up at him.

"Umm, yeah. Have you been?" I ask curiously whilst fidgeting my fingers in my lap. All of my previous sarcasm and assurance now completely evaporated from my body.

He gazes down towards his phone that is cradled in his hand as he responds. "Many times."

Oh. 

I fidget nervously.

I am so uncomfortable.

I don’t even know what to say to him!

Think of something to say.... think of something to say....

I watch him in thought as he rummages with one hand through his phone, probably checking emails or texts, and from God knows who. It would appear that whatever it is that he’s doing though, is obviously more interesting than his current company. I shift in my seat.

Just ask him something.

My thoughts are scattered into a panic. I can’t stand the awkward silence we are currently experiencing.

Not that he seems to notice
,
my conscious remarks.

I need to get some kind of conversation going or there is no way I will survive the day. Otherwise I will be changing course on what I'll be telling my mother when I call her later. I won't be so
alive
after all.

Anything Penny...

Just ask anything!

Before I can control the words, cause a diversion, or even prepare the sentence - they start to trickle out of my mouth. "So, why were you so interested in seeing me again?"

Shit!

My cheeks begin to build with the heat from my flushing face, as I instantaneously regret what has escaped. He stops fiddling with his phone like I am finally catching his attention, his eyes burning fiercely into mine instantly making me wish he went back to whatever was more interesting a moment ago.

"I wanted to," he answers bluntly, like a spoilt child who always gets what they want. I raise my eyebrow upwards dubiously, as if to motion him to go on in further detail. He seems to respond. "There was something about you, when I.. err...
intervened
with that guy pestering you for a drink," he shakes his head disapprovingly. "You are mysterious. You intrigue me," he adds more thoughtfully, his eyes softening as the words exit his lips.

Me?

Mysterious?

How?

"Doesn’t happen too often," he continues with slight amusement.

So you don’t get
too
interested...

That’s not surprising.

I vaguely remember Rosie’s remarks about him never being snapped with the same women in the tabloids and his sentence clearly makes sense.

Doesn’t get snapped with them - just fucks them
,
my good conscious sniggers, shaking her head at me clearly let down.

I swallow heavily.

"Your eyes don’t give very much away Penelope," he continues before turning his attention out the window seemingly
dis
interested again.

My eyes don’t give much away?

Is he serious? Mr Intensity himself?

My head wants to push for further answers, but I’m not sure I want to continue right now. I have the whole day to get through and I don’t want to start off too uneasy. As I glance out the window I see we are mere minutes from our destination, so I bite my tongue and say nothing.

As soon as we reach the start of Argyle Street, the driver immediately steers to the side and out of the traffic. Jay pulls out his dark aviator sunglasses and places them over his gorgeous but intense blue eyes. A sigh of relief settles over me.

He slides out first but to my surprise, he holds open the door. I slide my bum along the worn leather seat and prepare to take the place beside him. I wouldn’t have thought him to be so polite. So...

Gentlemanly.

I screw up my nose at that thought, as gentleman is
not
the word I would ever use to describe such a sex-on-legs kind of guy. He extends his arm and bends it at the elbow, allowing me to hold onto his forearm for support as I pull myself upright outside the car. As I touch his bare skin with my palm, an immediate sensation ripples throughout my body. The same powerful emotions I remember so clearly from last night.

Fear?

Is this guy dangerous?

I can’t quite put my finger on what it is about him that screams so loudly at my body. But whatever it is, walks a fine line between unwanted and need. He leans over to the driver handing him some cash before shoving his phone into his denim pocket. As soon as I let go of his arm the conflicting sensations make a speedy exit, allowing me to breathe normally again.

"So where are we going?" he questions. His tone, despite being completely unassuming is dripping with sarcasm, rousing my stubbornness from its brief slumber.

I smirk.

I look up the street towards Circular Quay and since it’s a Saturday, suggest checking out the markets. He nods, but not without the still smugness across his face as we start our stroll along the sunny streets of Sydney. To keep my uneasiness at bay, I gaze blankly around at the people passing by us.

Does anyone recognise him?

I can’t tell. Nobody appears to take notice of him as they walk by, well, except for the women. But that wouldn't necessarily be because they recognised him, as any girl who had eyes would ogle in his direction. He didn't even walk like most men. He glided, like he was the main act taking centre stage. I felt nowhere near exceptional enough to be walking beside him, but I knew no one would notice me anyway. Any eyes that would even glance in our direction would be for him; and in that moment, it both relieved and annoyed the hell out of me.

There is at least half a metre between us as we walk in awkward silence along the street. He casually checks out the stores one at a time as we pass them; restaurants, clothing, and tourist ones, all perched proudly along the strip. It’s a really popular place on the weekends for families and visitors, where they can appreciate the atmosphere and live music provided by the odd busker or two. Today is no exception. The further we walk the more people there seem to be.

"Ah we will definitely be coming back here," I hear him ooze interrupting my thoughts, as we walk past the Chocolate Shop.

So he likes chocolate.

I can’t help but think that besides him obviously being interested in music, this is the first thing I have really learned about him. Well besides his love for the opposite sex courtesy of Rosie’s knowledge. I shudder.

We eventually find ourselves where the markets begin and join the hundreds of people stationed around the stalls. I spot a random one nearby displaying all kinds of hats, and without contemplation, make a beeline for it not even knowing if he is following my lead. As I reach the stand I feel his presence behind me, and I can't help it - I smile. I’m not sure why, but I reach up confidently to touch one of the traditional Aussie swags and a thought, accompanied by a huge grin comes over me. I grab the hat from the shelf and immediately turn to face him so I can place it carefully on his head. I giggle at the sight.

So
not
him.

"There I think that’s you!" I sneer, trying to hold in my laughter.

Have I gone too far?

What will he do?

He doesn’t comment straight away, but keeping the swag lopsided on his head he browses the other hats until he finds an over the top cowboy one in navy blue. He reaches for it and places it on my head very carefully, and although I can’t see his eyes through his dark shades, I can feel their intensive stare all over me. He exhales loudly, his hot breath caressing my face as our bodies are close to one another. My body stiffens.

"I think this one's you," he says matching the smile in my voice. "Brings out your eyes though," he adds softly, and surprising sweetly. I blush.

He reaches for his phone that he had stuffed in his pocket earlier and fumbles through it. "We need to remember this."

A photo?

Not what I expected.

Who would’ve thought we would be trying on touristy hats and taking happy snaps at the markets?

I really didn't know him and shouldn’t assume otherwise – especially since the only point of reference is Rosie’s reliable source also known as ‘the internet’. He moves his head right next to mine and positions his arm outstretched in front of us. I manage a tiny smile until I hear the click of his camera phone. He no sooner puts it back in his pocket and removes his hat, combing his fingers through his thick hair. I follow his lead returning mine as well, before quickly catching up to him as he starts to move away.

We spend a couple of hours browsing the stalls and making small talk about certain sights; and when I say small talk, I mean
small
.
I’m pretty sure I’ve calculated half a dozen sentences this entire time. It’s usually several minutes on the phone, a sentence, followed by awkward silence - then hit repeat. He finally suggests we eat a late lunch as it’s almost 4.00pm and takes me to 'Roman’s'; a seafood eatery nestled just under the Harbour Bridge. The area down here is gorgeous. Glancing out toward the many boats and ferries passing us on the harbour, the large architectural landmark in our frame - really is a sight to be seen. We casually approach the desk and are immediately greeted by the host.