[nyc] empire state of mind. [gigi]

new years eve, 2003

Was it always this cold?

If he didn't know better, Harvey would have said there had been some sort of blizzard.  The streets had been ploughed but the pavements were slippy in between the grit that crunched beneath the soles of his shoes. The air was frigid, his breath coming out in little white puffs as he huddled down into his coat, his dark eyes flicking across the unfamiliar landscape and the unfamiliar faces. A quick look up at the heavy grey clouds told him that more snow wasn't far away and wouldn't it be magical to have snow falling at the stroke of midnight if there weren't so many people?

"Sorry," Harvey said politely as he squeezed his way through the crowd, the neon lights and music blasting as he surged forward. There was a palpable excitement in the air that always came around new year - anticipation, anxiety, the promise of better things - but his better thing was only a few minutes walk away.

It was a bold move, meeting her on New Year's Eve but he had to risk it to get the biscuit. This was her turf, her city and Harvey was more than welcome to make the sacrifice. New Year in London was always a bit of a shit show. Everyone was drunk and cold and packed in like sardines, whether they were in bars or lined up on the South Bank to watch the fireworks. Then there was a tussle to catch the tube or wait two hours for a cab. Besides, he didn't have any plans but even if he had, he'd drop pretty much anything for a chance to see if she looked anything like the photograph she'd sent him.

For some reason, he had it in his back pocket, along with their last letter, on the off-chance that this was a big joke and he'd actually travelled three thousand miles to meet up with a middle-aged man. Either way, it was nice to be in the middle of a city-wide celebration. Dressed smartly in a tuxedo, Harvey was at the advantage that his family had already rung in the new year back home. New York was five hours behind London and he'd had just enough champagne to give him a boost of confidence.

"Sorry," he said again as he weaved between a couple putting on some pretty hefty public displays of affection and a man who was wearing a green foam crown that matched the one atop the Statue of Liberty, a cigarette in one hand and a glowstick in the other. Harvey could say what he wanted about Americans but they sure did know how to party.

The ice rink was all lit up, dwarfed by a gigantic Christmas tree, festooned in warm white lights and he had to stop for a minute to gather his thoughts. He was a cool, calm, sophisticated young man (or so he thought) but he couldn't help but to express a giddy little grin at the sight. The tree in his local village square was cute but this was something else. Lost momentarily in sheer wonder, something caught his eye and he turned his head.

Harvey had made a point to be early. It was a little after nine in the evening and the party was starting to ramp up. Giovanna, from her letters at least, made it clear she was a no-nonsense type of gal. Her time was precious and he was both flattered and slightly wary of the fact that she was willing to spend it with him. Stepping back from the rail, he followed a head of dark hair before reaching out to politely tap her on the shoulder and clear his throat.

The first thought that bounced around his head when she turned to face him was holy shit closely followed by that dress should be illegal. Instead of voicing it, he gave her a wide grin. "Giovanna?" Harvey asked as he extended a large hand out for her to shake, the bright lights of Manhattan picking out the highlights in her otherwise dark hair. "It's nice to meet you," he went on. "Formally," he grinned again.



@Giovanna Coppola

The brunette witch turned at the tap on her shoulder, lifting her chin to look up at the man who had dared touch her. That grin was unnerving, wasn’t it? And who walked around in a tuxedo—

Giovanna? She blinked. “Harvey?” she said, uncertainly at first until she reconciled his face with the one that she’d seen in his photo. He was possibly a little more handsome in person. Gia gave the tux another once over and decided that maybe it was more flattering than embarrassing -- so long as he wasn’t planning to propose (which would be very flattering but would definitely also shift things back to being embarrassing).

Harvey had offered her his hand and Giovanna took it, using her other to wrap her coat tighter about her person, coyly. “Hi,” she smirked, amused by how formal he was being. Were all British guys like this? She could probably get used to it, it was cute.

She glanced at the clock on the building beside them. “You’re early,” she told him, quietly impressed all over again. Gia had been writing to Harvey since she was seventeen and it was crazy to think they hadn’t met before now -- she had been living just across the English Channel for a year, but he had still been a schoolboy and, back then, that had seemed like a big deal.

“How was your portkey?”

"Hello," he said brightly with a dimpled grin as he returned her greeting. Giovanna took his hand and he squeezed it and gave her hand a shake, his fingers automatically lingering for perhaps a second longer than was considered polite. No wonder she looked freaked out - why did he think coming up behind her had been a smart idea? It was less romantic, more...unnerving.

She mentioned he was early and he laughed, stuffing his hands into his coat pocket after they'd ended their handshake. "I'd never keep a lady waiting," came the breezy reply and another smile. He didn't want to be honest and say that the time difference was giving him a headache. "And I was excited to see you," Harvey said casually as he rocked on the balls of his feet.

"Horrific," he said with a cheery smile as he neatly stepped over to her and out of the way of a steady stream of tourists. "Worth it, though," Harvey assured her quickly. He liked her voice. It was an odd thought, considering she hadn't said two words to him but it didn't matter. He still had all of her letters and he wasn't sure if that was sweet or a bit weird.

He rested his hands on the railing that overlooked the skating rink. "Do you want to?" He asked Giovanna, nodding his head towards the place in question with a grin. He wondered if her parents were close. Harvey didn't like making assumptions but he was already terrified of her dad - he didn't need to meet him to make sure. "You might need to hold my hand, though," he warned her. Harvey was a rugby man, not a figure skater. He couldn't say he'd had much practice. The last time the Mersey had frozen over, Queen Victoria was on the throne.

Harvey released her (eventually) and Giovanna withdrew her hand, slipping it into her coat pocket out of the cold. She smirked at him, again--he’d called her a lady--and made a mental note to find out if there was any sort of title that came with that tuxedo, now that he’d put the thought in her head. He sounded pretty fancy, obviously dressed fancy, and he had enough money to zip over to New York for a night, so it was possible, right? Hadn’t he mentioned something about a drawing room once in his letters, too?

He said his portkey had been horrific but he was smiling about it, so she couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or just saying it was bad to endear her to him or something. “I think I’d take a portkey over the subway,” she told him conversationally.

Giovanna kept her eyes on Harvey unabashedly even as he turned side-on, studying his face now that she could see it in full relief; strong jaw, straight nose, surprisingly full lips for a man— “Hm?” She looked from him to where he’d nodded his head: the ice rink. “Oh.” That had been the plan, hadn’t it? Something to do. “Sure,” she said, in the same moment he spoke again; she laughed. “Do you skate?”

She turned and began walking towards the ticket booth slowly, glancing out of the corner of her eye to make sure he was following (he was). “So is the James Bond look just for me or were you at a party?”

Gosh, she was pretty. That was the only thing that was bumping around his head. Even in the garish lights of the city, she looked impossibly beautiful. Giovanna was definitely his type - a little bit gothic,  dark lipstick, dark eyes - all he could do was smile at her. Swiftly, he laughed and then grimaced in solidarity. "Ah," he said thoughtfully. "You haven't had the pleasure of riding on the Wirral Line," he joked. Sure, New York may have pizza rats but his hometown had soot, overcrowding and trains that just...didn't turn up.

Giovanna had retracted her hand and Harvey couldn't help but watch it slip inside of her coat before he was distracted. "I don't," he told her honestly with another smile. "That's why you need to hold my hand," he offered with a smile that reached his eyes.

Like an over eager puppy, Harvey fell into step with her. He didn't know where he was going, Giovanna did, but that was no excuse - he'd follow her into a volcano if she asked politely. She was making him laugh. "I'm more Connery than Brosnan," Harvey said smoothly. "I was at a family party," he explained. "We do it every year. I have no idea why, none of us really like it," he said with a thoughtful frown. If the Landsdownes weren't drunk, what was the point? His nanna was asleep on the settee after a glass of sherry regardless.

"But that depends," he told Giovanna gamely, an eyebrow arched as he caught her eye. "Do you like it?" He asked with a slow smile as they moved towards the rink. Harvey would have invited Giovanna to the party but he thought it might have been a bit intense - she wouldn't know anyone, she'd be in the wrong timezone, she might not even have had any fun. Looking back, it was a piss-poor move on his part because she was actually perfect. "That way, I get to celebrate New Year twice," he told her as he slipped his hands into his pockets as they navigated the growing crowds.

"It's probably cheating," Harvey admitted with a grin, but looking unabashed about it all the same. He reached up and unfastened his bowtie, holding the gate open for Giovanna to enter. "After you," he instructed her, holding it open for the few people that entered behind them and instantly regretted it. Rudely, he let it slam shut, causing someone behind him to curse before he broke into a job to catch up to her, looking over his shoulder as he mouthed no, you piss off right back at them. "Tourists, eh?" He joked with an eye roll.

Harvey said that was why she needed to hold his hand. “Oh, so nothing to do with just wanting to?” Giovanna smirked.

She didn’t know who Connery and Brosnan were, but she assumed that was a Bond thing, too -- all she really knew about the character was that he was British and wore a suit. And drank martinis. But: a family party, he said. Gia’s previous suspicion that Harvey came from money was reinforced by this anecdote -- who wore a tuxedo to a family get-together? “So, like, a tradition?” she asked, intrigued.

The New Yorker offered him a closed-lipped smile and another obvious once-over. “I don’t dislike it,” she told him truthfully; she thought maybe she did like it, but it wouldn’t do him any good to have his ego inflated so soon in the night. She nodded along with his explanation, trying to imagine Harvey’s version of New Years Eve compared with what she was used to (a night in or Times Square were the only two options really, weren’t they?). “Well, I hope you didn’t ditch some poor English girl for me,” she said -- except, she kind of did, and the smirk on her full lips said so as she faced forward again after a lingering glance.

She slipped through the gate ahead of him and turned to continue their conversation, looking around for him for a moment before realising he’d gotten held up at the gate -- being a gentleman. Gia pretended not to see him slam the gate, smiling smally to herself.

They joined the back of the line and Giovanna hesitated. “Are you sure you wanna skate?” She tilted her face up to him. “You’re not exactly dressed for it,” she explained with a pointed glance at his shiny dress shoes. He wasn’t even wearing a coat, and the thought made her wrap hers tighter about her frame. “I don’t mind if we do something else.”

"Might be," Harvey replied swiftly with a smile before he looked away, trying to play it cool when realistically, he was hot under the collar. He should have changed. He had plenty of suits at home, all of which were considerably less ostentatious. Besides, he must have looked like a right weirdo, turning up wearing this.

"Something like that," he answered Giovanna quickly with a smile. "It was started by my great-grandfather," he went on. "We usually spend Christmas with our own families and meet up at New Year. It's been the same way since I can remember," he scratched his nose. "Black tie not so much optional as enforced," he told her with a wan smile. The idea of her in a slinky dress (emerald green, obvs) was almost overwhelming. "We have one in the summer, too," Harvey said casually, flicking his eyes over to her again. "Think about coming. I'll show you how to play croquet. If you need help holding my mallet," he offered with a slow smirk.

Harvey laughed quickly, genuinely tickled by her cool demeanour. "I'll take that," he grinned, distracted momentarily by the towering buildings splashed in neon. He was sure Giovanna was joking when she spoke about ditching an English girl but his laughter dried up sharply. He'd snuck out but before he'd left, he told her he was getting her a fresh drink. "Oh fuck," he replied, his eyes wide. "Amelia," he stated before he winced. Catching her eye, he gave a sheepish grin. "She'll get over it," he joked.

But was he sure he wanted to skate? Short answer - no. He didn't know how to and he was dressed like a butler. As if Gia seemed to read his mind, he reached up and tugged the bowtie off his neck and shoved it into his trouser pocket. "Is that not what everyone does here?" Harvey asked stupidly, answering his own question as it only seemed to be non New Yorkers in the queue. "I'm not particularly attached," he murmured, realising his mistake.

He was close behind her as they lined up, his brain ticking into overtime before they reached the turnstile and he gave a smile. "Sorry," he offered to the man who was about to take payment. "Change of plan." With that, he reached out and took her hand, neatly skirting the ice rink and the screaming child who had just face planted, coming out the other side and back onto the busy street. He wasn't thinking. He'd never worn a dress before but he didn't think it'd be easy to whirl around the ice in.

Harvey didn't really want to take Giovanna to a party - it'd be too busy and too loud. The chances of people being drunk were low (it was a well known fact that Yanks couldn't handle their liquor) but he wanted to be both in the middle of the action and on the outskirts. "Drink?" He offered as he stepped back and let her pass him back into the throng of people. His bright eyes looked around for inspiration. "Just a quick question," he said to her as he dipped his head, his voice low in her ear. "How against breaking and entering are you?"

“That sounds nice,” the witch commented genuinely -- her family Christmases were usually the opposite; the entire extended family together sharing food and wine, to be left to their own devices for the new year celebrations. “We have to dress up,” she told him with a telltale roll of her eyes (she had been told to change no less than three times by her mother before the meal last week), “but not—” she gestured at his attire with a manicured hand, “—like this.” What would her mother think if she brought an Englishman in a tuxedo to Christmas dinner next year? It might be worth keeping him around for that, if nothing else.

Giovann’s eyes met Harvey’s and she returned his smirk. “Is that a formal invitation or are you just trying to play with my emotions?”

Seemed she wasn’t the only one he was toying with, judging by that look. Gia’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly; “Who’s Amelia? Girlfriend?” she asked, her tone conversational. If he had one that was fine, she supposed, but he at least needed to warn her -- the last thing she needed was a repeat of the last time.

He loosened his bowtie and her eyes fell to his neck like a repressed Victorian woman -- or vampire, whichever was more fitting (the latter, surely). She flicked her focus back up to his face as he seemed to realise they were surrounded by tourists. “I assumed it was like a bucket list thing,” she teased gently with a soft shrug. A moment later he had taken her hand in his and was pulling her out of the line and away from the rink.

“Yeah,” she grinned in answer, revelling in his indecisiveness rather than being annoyed by it. Her expression faltered and she turned to look at him over her shoulder, pretending to be scandalised -- this was much more her pace. “What kind of girl do you take me for?” she asked, her full lips tugging up at the corner in another smirk. She craned her neck to murmur back in his ear, keeping up the charade (and taking full advantage of the excuse to get closer); “Not at all.”

"You don't like it?" Harvey asked in mild surprise before he grinned. He didn't know Giovanna that well - unless she wasn't being honest in her letters - but the image of her faffing around in dresses made him smile. God, she'd look stunning in a ball gown. "Oh please," he gave a soft laugh, enjoying the thrill of the push-and-pull game they were playing. "I'm a gentleman," he insisted. "I wouldn't dream of playing with you," he added with an easy smile. Unless she asked him to. "Your invite's in the post," he joked. But not really.

"Ah, no," he told Giovanna quickly with a shake of his head. "A friend of a friend," he added vaguely because Amelia was a sweet (if not slightly horse-faced) girl. Her uncle knew his uncle...or cousin? There was some sort of tenuous and paper thin connection between their families that Amelia liked to exploit. Giovanna had nothing to worry about but something told him that she really wouldn't, which made it seem infinitely sexier.

She was funny, he noticed, as he widened his eyes in faux shock. "Surely not," he smiled. "It's all Empire State Building, manic cab drivers and bagels, no?" Harvey threw back easily, the corners of his eyes creasing in mirth. He'd been on the receiving end of stereotypes his entire life but he hadn't once called food scran.

"Babe, I'd take you anywhere," Harvey answered Gia quickly and seriously, stopping only to flash a grin in case she thought he was being overbearing. He'd follow her into a volcano if she batted her eyelashes. Her breath was warm on his skin as his eyes closed, goose bumps rising on his forearms as a little tingle of excitement thrilled down his spine. "Fantastic," he said quickly, pleased by her answer as he began to lead her in the opposite direction of the crowd that all seemed to be making their way towards the neon lights.

Did he have a destination in mind? No. Would he go to extreme lengths to try and impress the brunette? Absolutely. His eyes darted around the streets. Harvey needed to get to higher ground, a tall building, it needn't be a skyscraper. A hotel seemed doable and he pulled Giovanna snugly in behind him, brushing past a smartly dressed doorman who shot them a look and into a sweeping lobby. No one paid them any attention. Clearly, the establishment was well used to rich teenagers with daddy's credit card. Realising the implications, he looked over his shoulder and grinned at her. "Don't panic," he chuckled. "It's not what you think."

He didn't have a room key but with a wave of his hand, the lift opened and they entered, the doors closing and enveloping them in silence. Harvey didn't let go of her hand, even as the lift announced their arrival with a discreet ding! He stepped out and led Giovanna down a plush carpeted hallway, past the expensive suites and penthouse. He passed a housekeeping trolley as one of the staff was delivering room service. Quick as a flash, his hand darted out to swipe a bottle of something bubbly off it before he broke into a jog as he came to a door, which he promptly pushed open with his shoulder and allowed them to spill out onto the rooftop.

His jaw dropped. Whether or not Giovanna was familiar with this view, Harvey wasn't sure, but he was suitably impressed with the entire city lit up, stretching for miles. "Blimey," he breathed out as he went to the edge and peered over, momentarily stunned as he held the bottle out to Giovanna.

A friend of a friend. “Right,” she said simply, eager to put the thought of someone else out of her mind for the rest of the night -- and it wasn’t like she hadn’t kept that barista’s phone number from her coffee cup this morning (she’d get Céline to help her with the actual calling him part, if she decided to).

Giovanna rolled her eyes playfully at the cheesiness of Harvey’s offer. It was too much—he was too much, definitely—but she’d chalk it up to first date nerves for now. And he was cute, and British, so she could kind of forgive it.

A small part of her had thought he was joking about the whole breaking and entering thing, but a moment later she was being tugged down the block. Harvey paused for a second, as if to get his bearings, then continued on towards a hotel. Gia pushed her bottom lip out (not that he could see, leading the way), surprised by his presumptuousness, but she didn’t object (yet). He turned at that moment and reassured her that it wasn’t what she thought, and she shrugged—she wasn’t panicking, she’d have no qualms hexing his kneecaps if he tried anything she wasn’t consenting to—awkwardly, her hand still held in his and his quick pace disguising the gesture. 

Giovanna followed Harvey into the elevator and when they finally stopped she resisted the urge to retrieve her hand from his grasp, so as not to dissuade him from whatever crusade he was on -- she only wanted it back because it was a lot warmer in here than it had been on the street and she could feel their closed palms getting clammy.

He wasn’t saying anything as they rose upwards. The shiny surface of the elevator warped their reflections as they stood facing the door; Gia stared at Harvey’s mirrored self unabashedly, curious. They arrived—she had noticed he’d pushed the button for the top floor—with a muted ding, and he was straight back to moving at pace down the corridor. There was a gilded trolley full of food and bottles that they skirted around— and Gia smirked as she watched Harvey help himself to a bottle of Dom Pérignon.

He started jogging and Giovanna only quickened her strides to a fast-walk, pulling back on his hand due to their differing momentums (she was not about to run anywhere). Finally, his plan became clear as he shouldered a service door open and the cold air hit them again: they were on the rooftop. He had finally let go of her hand and Gia wrapped her coat tighter around her waist. Blimey, he said, and she smiled to herself as she strode over towards the balustraded edge and took the bottle from him.

“And you just happened to know this hotel had an empty rooftop?” she enquired as she began unwinding the cage around the cork.

"Lucky guess?" Harvey said over his shoulder with a smile before turning back around to watch the city unfold before them. By nature, he was a bullshitter. He usually got what he wanted by blagging. Winging things was a surprisingly effective manoeuvre to pull but eventually, he knew his luck would run out. He just hoped it wouldn't be in front of her.

Momentarily dazzled, his eyes swept along the illuminated thoroughfares. People looked like little ants, all swarming towards what he presumed would be the epicentre. To be caught up in the merriment would be electric and the atmosphere heady but he didn't want to be a cliche. Would he like to kiss Giovanna at midnight? Did Dolly Parton sleep on her back? Of course he wanted to, he just had to figure out the logistics.

"If you lot are like us," Harvey began, still entranced by the lights before managing to pull his eyes away, turn and face the brunette. "We tend to run to the source of a party," he smiled, dimples appearing. "I had a sneaking suspicion you guys wouldn't want to miss out on a good time." He was tarring Giovanna with the same brush as he would all Americans but she was smart enough to (hopefully) not take it as an insult.

Her fingers were on the bottle and he watched - either he really liked her or he was completely starved of affection because he was focused on the movement of her fingers. "I couldn't quite snag glasses," Harvey began with an apologetic frown, eventually flicking his eyes up to hers. The Healer had an urge to offer Giovanna his jacket like his mother raised him to but she was already wearing a coat and it looked a damn sight warmer than anything he could offer. He then realised that he'd basically abducted her, shoved her into a lift and barricaded themselves on a rooftop in December. He definitely was not getting a second date.

"I'll level with you," Harvey announced as he walked over to her, holding his hand out in a wordless offer to see if she needed any help. He could tell that she was more than capable of popping open a bottle of champagne, but it was the thought that mattered. "On a scale of one to ten," he ploughed on, automatically reaching out to brush a lock of her silky raven hair behind one of her ears."How am I doing so far?" It was a joke. Or so he hoped.

Lucky guess. Gia smirked.

“My lot?” she asked, a hint of offence in her tone. She wasn’t actually offended, but she certainly needed to educate him a little. As it was, he was talking too much and she was content to wait for the opportune moment to let it really sink in.

“Actually,” she began when he paused to take a breath; she finally removed the muselet and stowed it away in her pocket to dispose of later (she wasn’t about to litter). “I hate parties,” she told Harvey, handing the bottle to him by the neck when he motioned for it. She withdrew her wand from within her coat and with a wave produced two gothic-style crystal goblets for him to pour into once he managed to pop the bottle (if he managed -- her expectations were rapidly declining).

Giovanna met Harvey’s eyes and raised an eyebrow at him--remaining otherwise still--as he reached up to push her hair back. “You’ll level with me?” she repeated curiously, with a hint of amusement in her tone. Things had started promisingly enough, but she was beginning to think he was either overthinking things, or not thinking at all. The witch brought her hand up to untuck the same strand he’d just wedged behind her ear (if she wanted to look like a teenage boy going through a phase she would have tucked her hair behind both ears herself).

Losing a bit of patience, Giovanna took the bottle from him once opened and poured them each a drink. “Barely scraping a two,” she told him cuttingly, and set the champagne on the ledge; she picked up both goblets and handed one to him. “Stop trying so hard.” She had a sip, reconsidered her instructions, and amended them: “Like, try, but be a little less…” she waved a hand in a vague gesture.

Oh, this was bad. He should have known, really. Harvey was frequently out of his depth. Though smart, he relied on his charm (or his apparent lack of) and he was thankful they were alone because limping through conversation surrounded by strangers was even worse. He felt a bit sorry for Giovanna, too. She was clearly used to spending time with people of a higher calibre but when she scored him a two, he let out a snort of laughter.

"Oof," he replied with wide eyes, both offended and amused. He liked it, that subtle knife edge cruel and kind. He bet she gave the best backhanded compliments. Giovanna fixed her hair after he'd moved it for her and there and then, Harvey knew he'd torpedoed the evening. Thank goodness he'd already seen in the New Year in London because he'd be devastated if this was how he was starting the rest of the year.

She'd snatched the bottle and Harvey blinked in mild surprise, too stunned to protest as he took the champagne glass. What was he supposed to toast to now? As fleeting and stupid as it sounded, he toyed with the idea of leaping off the balcony into the cool night air and apparating without a trace. The embarrassment was becoming physically painful. "Thanks," he said softly. If he were being honest, he actually liked her a little bit more. At least she hadn't pretended to laugh at his jokes, he appreciated that.

His dark eyes were on the city skyline as he blinked. He wondered if he should cut his losses and just leave - Giovanna must have other plans she'd put on ice for him - but no. "Sorry," Harvey answered softly with a lopsided grin. She was right. Maybe he was just nervous? Or his tried and tested patter didn't cut the mustard on this side of the pond. "This is awkward," he sipped his champagne and scratched his nose with a breathless laugh. "I actually brought you a present," he winced.

He supposed he could be himself but that was even more frightening. This worked back home. He wasn't used to striking out. Stupidly, Harvey thought his accent and his suit might turn the tide. Harvey enjoyed writing and receiving her letters. He liked her penmanship and her cutting sense of humour. Turning his head smally, he took a peek at Giovanna out of his peripheral vision. "I liked your Es," he blurted out, referring to her handwriting. "I didn't think I'd seen a finer one," he admitted as he downed his glass of champagne. That was perhaps the first honest thing he'd said to her all night.

Harvey laughed—or made a sound akin to it—so Gia assumed she hadn’t completely destroyed his feelings. And she didn’t want to, either — but she wasn’t going to pretend like he was doing a great job just to avoid hurting him. If Harvey wanted to see her again he needed to step it up, but like, by stepping it down.

He looked a little deflated though. She pushed her bottom lip out in sympathy, dramatically—poor puppy—it was obvious she wasn’t apologetic about telling the truth, but she wasn’t being cruel (intentionally); her eyes were still smiling and she turned her attention out to the towering lit-up buildings before he caught her smirking.

Harvey apologised and Giovanna shrugged — it wasn’t her problem if he fucked it up, she could probably find some guy down in the crowd who’d substitute if worst really came to worst. Or she’d go home and snuggle her dogs, whichever. This is awkward. Gia opened her mouth and turned to tell him it was only awkward because he was making it but he cut her off before she could start: he had brought a present. She blinked. Obviously, she wanted to know what it was. She had a sip of the stolen champagne.

He was glancing sidelong at her, so she returned the favour; he was a good-looking guy, and he’d come all this way, and he’d bought her a present, whatever it was. She was about to ask—may as well find out if it was worth sticking around for—when he complimented her Es. She turned to look at him, then laughed— then realised he was serious. She tongued the inside of her cheek, a non-apology for her outburst. “I didn’t realise they were unique,” she said, trying.

“You know we could have just like, gone for pizza and ice cream or something,” she told him, scuffing her shoe into the concrete. “Not that I’m complaining about the champagne,” she smiled and had another sip.