Zara had never been the kind of girl to settle for blind dates.

Though she'd never explicitly say it out loud, she had a feeling she was above the need to be 'set up' on a date. After all, she was perfectly capable of securing her own dates with men she found attractive and who in turn pretty much worshipped the ground she walked on.

And although the majority of those dates never materialised into anything longer than a 3-month swirling love affair full of good sex, fancy date nights and luxurious mini breaks, she was perfectly happy with that lifestyle.

With that in mind then, she was wondering why on Allah's green earth she was currently stood at the entrance to a fancy restaurant in central London, waiting for whatever blind date her scheming best friend Wednesday had cooked up for her.

It was a good thing she loved the girl to her bones. Weeks before when they'd been having a wine and cheese night, Wednesday had practically begged her permission to let her set up a blind date for her, claiming her and Harry knew someone perfect for her, someone she'd instantly click with. Someone whose identity they also wouldn't reveal to her no matter how many times she asked. Eventually, the begging had become so annoying she'd had no choice but to huff and give in, agreeing to let Wednesday set her up with whatever mystery man she'd chosen.

But standing there now with a face like thunder, she was finding it hard to remember why she'd agreed to it at all. Getting her phone out, she considered sending a strongly worded text to Wednesday about how she was about to run away from the date and that she should never ever suggest setting up a blind date for her ever again.

Zara didn't get nervous for dates. Zara didn't get nervous for anything really. So, the fact that she was stood with slightly shaking hands and a belly fully of butterflies that felt almost venomous was a sickly strange feeling that didn't settle right with her. Nerves weren't her thing. Her thing was being confident and sure of herself and walking into dates with her head held high and eyes sultry. It was what she knew how to do best.

At the same moment her eyes flashed to the doorway, preparing to run back out and away to freedom before her date arrived, someone's voice caught her attention.

"Good evening madam, do you have a reservation?"

Zara turned to the suited man stood behind the host stand who was smiling plainly at her and swallowed back her own hesitation.

Fuck. It was too late now.

Gritting her teeth in frustration, she nodded at him.

"Yes. It should be under the name Wednesday Green for two people at seven."

She watched him flick through the system, his lips curving into a smile as he found the booking.

"Perfect. I'll take you to your table now."

With one last sad look at the entrance, her escape at freedom now a pipe dream quickly evaporating before her eyes, she begrudgingly followed him through the establishment, taking in the fancy décor.

Zara had been to a lot of fancy restaurants and bars before, especially in Dubai where opulence was everywhere you turned. But this one, situated on the 39th floor of one of the towers in the financial district, was a sight to behold. A sushi restaurant, with beautiful black walls and orange accents, the circular open kitchen situated smack bang in the middle of the floor showing the food made fresh and ready to order. Behind it, a bar with a tree with spectacularly orange leaves cascading down, matching the theme of the place.

She was impressed. Wednesday had taste. Odd considering how much her best friend usually preferred big macs and subway sandwiches to anything even remotely fancy.

He weaved through the crowded tables full of suited and booted businessmen, rich middle-aged women and the occasional familiar celebrity face, coming to a large booth by the window.

"Here you go madam. We have been instructed that everything you order tonight is being paid for by the card we have on the booking, so feel free to order whatever you like to your heart's content," the host smiled down at her as she scooted her way into the booth.

"Thank you," she replied, forcing a smile up at him.

Well, at least that was the one redeeming quality about this date. Free booze and sushi, all going onto one Mr Harry Styles credit card. Suddenly, a bottle of their most expensive champagne sounded right up her alley.

She scanned the room in anticipation as she opened up the menu, her eyes looking for the expensive drink options, knowing she'd need a stiff drink to get through whatever date they'd set up.

All week she'd been trying to guess who it was, this mystery man she was said to have 'lots and lots' in common with according to Wednesday. Out of the two of them, Zara was the one with endless acquaintances and connections, usually all from work, whereas Wednesday was very much not a fan of making new friends. On more than one occasion, Zara had heard her say that she'd rather 'gouge her own eyes out with a rusty spoon' than be forced to make conversation with strangers and that she was very much content with the friends she currently had.

Though of course that all changed when she got a drink in her. Drunk Wednesday was the loudest, chattiest person in the room and also surprisingly affectionate. Zara was sure she'd had more drunk hugs than sober ones at this point in their friendship.

Zara had gone through every one of Wednesday's male friends she knew was single, and there weren't very many of them. She'd tried to do the same with Harry, but in contrast to Wednesday, he had an overwhelming abundance of male single friends and before she'd even started trying to narrow the list down, she'd felt exhausted at the endless stream.

Eventually, she just gave up and accepted the fate that was hers. It was most certainly going to be the blindest of dates.

Leaning her chin onto her hand, she chanced looking up around the room again as she took a break from reading the menu. Her eyes flicked over to the entrance, and if she hadn't spotted someone familiar, she might have not spared them a second glance. But she did spot them. Spotted him. Looking straight at her as he spoke to the host who was pointing in her direction.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," she mumbled under her breath, looking back down to her menu with a new surge of annoyance.

She was going to kill Wednesday. Murder her in cold blood for the person she'd chosen for the date, who was now strolling over to her with one hand in his pocket and an amused smirk on his face.

Squirming in her seat, she sucked in a deep breath until she felt the presence of him approaching the table. Without even looking up to him, she could feel the amusement radiating from him at their combined set up.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Zara Almasi," Niall grinned down at her, leaning against the booth with a leg kicked over his other. "I see you've been dragged into this whole blind date thing too by the world's most annoying couple. You look absolutely thrilled to be here."

She crossed her arms, sitting back as she looked up to him.

"What gave it away? The clear enthusiasm written across my face?"

"Wouldn't go as far to say enthusiasm..." he said, grinning widely as he nodded at the other end of the booth. "I know you were probably waiting for some tall, dark and handsome stranger to pop in, but mind if I sit down darling?"

"Feel free. You are my date after all, Mr Horan," she said, slinking back into her seat with a grin. "And by the way, despite the initial shock, I'm actually very happy that it's you I'm here with."

"You are?" he asked, settling down into the booth on the other side, smoothing down his hair.

"Yes. Now I don't need to spend this whole date pretending to like the other person."

He quirked a brow at her, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"I can't tell if that's you saying you like me or don't care enough to pretend to like me?"

She smirked, leaning forward to rest her chin onto her hand.

"Ah, I guess you'll have to find out."

He kept her eye contact for a second before breathing out a small laugh and looking down to the menu as she did the same, scanning the menu once again.

"I have to admit, Wednesday and Harry kept me in the dark about who I'd be meeting here too. Though they promised I'd be pleasantly surprised," he said, eyes reading over the words before him loosely.

Zara raised a brow. "And are you?"

He looked up over the menu, blue eyes piercing into her. "I guess you'll have to find out."

He'd used her own words against her, and something about it made her lips slowly curl into a mischievous grin as she sat up further to return her attention to the menu.

"So, what drinks are you thinking? Apparently, this whole meal is being paid for by the Grammy winner himself, so I say we punish the dickheads for setting this up and go wild," Zara suggested, grinning across at him which he returned.

"I like your thinking," he said, humming exaggeratedly as he looked over it. "Well usually I'd go for a Guinness like the proud Irish man I am, but since Harold has ever so kindly decided to foot the bill, that bottle of 2002 taittinger champagne is looking wonderful right about now."

"The £1800 one? Couldn't agree more," she replied, fighting back a smirk as he did the same. "I don't know about you, but I'm also feeling a bottle of wine too. Maybe the Rothschild?"

"I think that's an excellent idea. What's another £1200 between friends?" he asked, closing the menu with a smirk.

They both chuckled lightly at their scheming. As he motioned for a waiter, Zara relaxed into her seat, much more excited for the night now that all the stress of the blind date had melted away. Maybe she wouldn't be finding her prince charming tonight, but she was most certainly going to get drunk and have a fun time with the man sat across from her that she'd loosely known for years.

Once he'd ordered their drinks, he leaned forward and clasped his hands, staring intently over at her.

"So, it's been a while since I last saw you. Think it was Halloween a few years ago?"

Zara recalled the night at Harry's when she'd dressed up as the widow from Kill Bill, a night that was hazy now in her recollection. Though, it was marked by a lot of side eyeing that blue haired girl and downing enough shots to make her throw up in the toilet a few hours later.

"Has it been that long?" she asked, pursing her lips. "Swear the past few years have passed by in a blink."

"I know," he said, sitting back as he crossed his arms. "We're not spring chickens anymore."

Zara scoffed, brushing her curls out of her face. "Speak for yourself. I think I just get better with age."

She didn't miss the way his eyes dragged down her frame shamelessly as his lips curled, dropping his head a minute later to smile down at his lap.

"Might have to agree with you there," he said, eyes lit up with a suggestiveness that made her smile in an equal manner.

Casual flirting was her favourite hobby.

"What about you? You're hardly the blonde kid with braces anymore," she said, biting her lower lip.

"No, I'm definitely not, thank god. I think I've had what people call a glow up?"

Breathing out a laugh, she looked him over to see that it was most definitely true. Gone were the days where he dressed like a frat boy on speed, the blonde cute one of the group who was secretly pulling more girls than the supposed womaniser, Mr Styles, himself. No, these days he'd truly come into his own and settled into a style that suited him immensely.

Working in fashion, it was hard not to judge people based on their outfits. Especially shoes. Shoes were the first thing Zara noticed about someone, but as soon as she saw the black Gucci leather loafers he'd strolled in wearing, she knew he had a style for most men to be jealous of these days. Not to mention the all-navy blue outfit he was rocking too—a partially unbuttoned shirt tucked into loose, high waisted trousers, complimented with the gold single earring.

Yeah, he was definitely more than alright himself.

"Seems you agree from the way you just shamelessly checked me out," he pointed out, smiling as her eyes flicked back up to his quickly. A genuine moment of being caught out, rendering her momentarily speechless.

But she quickly pulled it back. As she always managed to do.

"I was just looking to confirm the glow up," she shrugged, sitting back.

"And?" he asked, smirking at the knowledge that she was most definitely checking him out, but looking for yet another ego boost.

"All I'll say is that ditching the bleach did you a world of good," she shrugged.

Niall's blue eyes only seemed to intensify in colour with her partial compliment. But he had no time to question her further as the waiter dropped off their drinks at the table, pouring them each a glass of champagne that Zara personally couldn't wait to polish off. She was confident, but alcohol always gave her that extra edge. And with how their conversation had been going so far, flirting teetering on the suggestive, she'd seemingly need all the liquid courage she could get.

"What do you do these days then? Last I heard, you were working in Dubai?" Niall asked, taking a sip from his glass before sitting forward, genuinely interested in the answer.

"I moved back last year after I got a promotion," she answered, dotting the napkin at her red lipstick, careful not to smudge. "Work at British Vogue now as an editorial stylist."

His face lit up with genuine surprise, clearly finding it impressive. The look only seemed to feed her grossly large ego more, but she didn't mind. As a girl who came from a council estate in Hackney with nothing to her name, the career and life she'd forged for herself would be an endless source of pride.

"British Vogue?" he repeated, pursing his lips. "You're big time now."

Holding the glass of champagne in her hand, she smiled suggestively over at him. "Play your cards right tonight and I might just pull a few strings to get you a feature."

"I'm sure my rugged good looks and charm will draw you in, no bother," Niall replied, shocking Zara with how well his own energy seemed to match hers.

Usually, she was always the one leading the conversation, happy to ask the questions and set the flirty, suggestive tone. So, to sit and watch Niall return every single one of her serves with a bat just as hard, it was refreshing. Refreshing enough that suddenly, he seemed to transform in front of her very eyes from a young, blonde popstar she once knew into a very real, handsome prospect.

Just for tonight of course.

"You don't hold back, do you?" she asked, tilting her head curiously.

He shrugged, a cheeky glint in his eye.

"Why hold back when I know what I want?"

Zara's perfectly painted red lips slowly curled into a smile and though she didn't say anything back, the look she gave him as she took a sip of champagne said all she needed to say.

The waiter returned and took their orders, both of them opting for the most expensive items they could find on the menu—wagyu beef for him, lobster tempura and black cod for her, and enough sushi to fill their pockets with. Talking through the topics of what Niall had been doing since the band ended and his plans for the future, the food slowly came out plate by plate and they indulged to their hearts content in the knowledge that it was going to put somewhat of a dent in Harry's bank account. A miniscule dent at that, but enough that they knew he'd do a double take of the bill when it left his account.

"I'm just going to the toilet," Zara announced, grabbing her Chanel bag as she slinked out of the booth, making sure to flick her hair over her shoulder before letting her heels tap across the floor.

Once she made it to the bathroom and had emptied her bladder, she reapplied her red lipstick, catching the parts that had slightly smudged with her little finger before fishing her phone out of her bag and calling the one person she was ready to reprimand.

"Are you going to yell at me or thank me?" was the first thing Wednesday said as she picked up the call, already anticipating that Zara was going to have something to say about her choice of blind date.

"An hour ago, I was ready to murder you in cold blood. Now, I'll give you the satisfaction of knowing that I'm actually having a decent time on this 'date' or whatever it is," Zara admitted, rolling her eyes at no-one.

"I knew it! You're getting along, aren't you?"

Zara didn't mind admitting when she was wrong to anyone except Wednesday. A competitive, winning freak who took every opportunity to say 'I told you so'. Even in the moments she didn't say anything, it was clear as day the words were on the end of her tongue, battling to be spoken. Wednesday wasn't anything if not a complete sucker for being right all the time.

"I'd say we're having a nice time considering Harry is paying for this entire dinner. Having an especially nice time picking out all the expensive foods and drinks," Zara replied, fixing her hair in the mirror.

She smirked as she heard Wednesday mumble something to someone out of hearing range, knowing it was Harry and her smirk only deepened when there was some muffled noise, faint voices and then the man himself in her ear.

"What havoc are you and Niall playing on my card?" he asked, making her breathe out a laugh.

"Nothing, nothing. We just really had a taste for the rarest champagne on the menu. Wine too," Zara responded, fighting laughter as she heard him huff out on the other end.

"I should have known this was a bad idea. You two alone are already a handful. Can imagine you're even worse together."

"Well take this a nice little lesson, the both of you. I don't want any more blind dates or secret set-ups, you hear me? This is the first and last time this shit happens. You're lucky I'm actually having fun or else I would have come to Wednesday's and kicked both of your asses," she said down the phone, not even blinking an eyelash. "And I know I'm on loudspeaker because you two are like Bert and fucking Ernie, so Wednesday, get that into your head too. No more secret dates, get me?"

There was silence for a second and when she pictured their scared faces looking at each other in slight terror, an amused grin curled onto her own lips.

Finally, Zara heard Wednesday sigh.

"Fine, no more blind dates. And how did you know I was on speaker?"

"Because, no offence, you two act like an old married couple in their 50s," she said, rolling her eyes before narrowing them at the wall. "In fact, what are you two even up to tonight? It's a Saturday night and you're picking up my call after the first ring."

More silence closely followed by Harry clearing his throat.

Zara pulled a disgusted face as she stood up straighter, her brows drawing together.

"Oh, please don't tell me you're both in bed."

"We're getting old Zara!" Wednesday whined.

"You're 27, not 50!"

"There was a good whale documentary we wanted to watch!" Harry chipped in, making her gag down the phone.

"Are you serious right now? You're a fucking Grammy award winning singer and Wednesday, you're a drummer and a student. That's like double license to go out and get pissed, it's your right!"