Unexpectedly.

As Harry's words trailed off, leaving the tantalizing prospect of a first date suspended in the air, Bianca found herself ensnared in the depths of his gaze, unable to look away. Time itself appeared to bend, stretching the seconds into elongated moments of charged silence. Then, without warning, Harry's arm extended, crossing the narrow expanse separating them. His palm descended upon Bianca's thigh, its heat radiating outward like ripples spreading across stagnant water.

A jolt of surprise coursed through Bianca's veins, causing her heart rate to quicken ever so subtly. Yet instead of withdrawing her leg, she chose to deflect the tension by shifting gears altogether. With a fluid motion, she gestured toward the battered leather case leaning against the wall beside their table, adorned with colorful stickers and faded song lyrics scrawled haphazardly along the edges. 'So,' she ventured softly, attempting to modulate her breathing to match the normal cadence once more, 'how long have you been playing?'

Her query sliced neatly through the heavy atmosphere surrounding them, summoning Harry's easygoing nature to resurface.

A relaxed grin spread across his features, accompanied by a faraway glance that hinted at fond memories. "Around ten years, give or take," he replied, his deep voice tinged with nostalgia, as if recalling countless nights spent strumming melodies under star-studded skies.

His hand remained gently positioned atop Bianca's thigh, yet despite the intimate touch, Harry's focus shifted seamlessly towards the worn instrument case, evoking a wave of affection reminiscent of reuniting with an old companion. Faint scratches marred the surface of the case, souvenirs collected during impromptu performances amidst bustling city streets or packed college bars – battle scars chronicling the growth of both artist and craft.

He glanced at the guitar, "That one is just my beater. I use it when I feel like sitting outside and flirting with pretty girls like you."

Bianca laughed nervously at the teasing remark, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks as her pulse accelerated marginally. As she turned to meet Harry’s mischievous stare head-on, the bright sunlight filtering through the window highlighted flecks of gold dancing among his eyelashes, captivating her completely.

As Harry's fingers drummed a lively rhythm on the tabletop, punctuating the end of his sentence, his eyes sparkled with infectious enthusiasm. The corners of his mouth curled upward, fashioning an inviting smile that seemed tailor-made to disarm even the most skeptical of souls. Without breaking stride, he leaned forward slightly, allowing the fading light to dance across the sharp planes of his face, imbuing his features with an aura of rugged sophistication.

"I've got some amazing pieces back at my place," Harry said, the husky undertones in his voice conspiring to pique Bianca's interest.

With those five simple words - "I've got some amazing pieces" - lingering enticingly in the space between them, Harry allowed his invitation to hang precariously in the balance, permitting Bianca ample time to deliberate. However, she didn't require much persuasion; intrigued, she nodded assent almost immediately, surrendering effortlessly beneath the gravitational pull exerted by his beguiling persona.

"Yeah?" Her gentle inflection made it sound nearly interrogative, though the mesmerized glint residing within her emerald irises conveyed wholehearted agreement rather than skepticism.

The split second preceding Harry's subsequent reaction swelled impossibly large, an ephemeral pocket dimension populated solely by expectation.

With an air of excitement, Harry sprang into action, gathering his belongings with a swift efficiency that belied the languid demeanor he had displayed mere moments prior. His hands moved with purpose, first grasping the weathered guitar case and deftly snapping its latches shut, before reaching out to reclaim the cardboard cups containing their barely touched beverages. His movements exuded an unbridled energy, like a pent-up **** finally released from constraint.

"C'mon then!" He flashed Bianca an irresistible grin, as if daring her to follow suit, all while maintaining a firm grip on both cups and expertly maneuvering the unwieldy guitar case.

Without another thought, Bianca rose smoothly from her seat, the delicate fabric of her dress whispering softly against her thighs as she stood upright. A fleeting glimpse of hesitation danced within her gaze, instantly replaced by determination mingled with curiosity. Inclining her slender neck, she tilted her chin upwards ever so slightly, yielding fully to the promise hidden behind Harry's persuasive smile.

Together, they wove past tables cluttered with books, backpacks slumped carelessly onto polished wooden floorsboards, leaving scattered remnants of interrupted conversations suspended mid-air like unfinished brushstrokes upon canvas.

They talked and walked the 10 minutes it took for them to arrive at his apartment. Bianca was surprised, she pointed to the row of apartments that was at the end of the street, "We're almost neighbors." Harry squinted at where she was pointing and nodded his head, "Cool! I can come borrow some sugar then." He teased.

As Harry uttered the playful jab about borrowing sugar, a flutter arose within Bianca's chest, born from the tantalizing prospect of having him visit her home, coupled with the startling realization that fate had indeed brought them closer together geographically. While processing these thoughts, Bianca found herself instinctively smiling brightly at Harry's charming quip, her lips parting naturally to accommodate the radiant beam spreading rapidly across her visage.

In tandem, Harry began veering leftward off the pavement, heading straight for a modest two-story building nestled amongst several identical structures lining either side of the quiet neighborhood street.

As they stepped off the curb and onto the winding walkway leading up to the apartment's entrance, the soft crunch of gravel beneath their feet served as a subtle reminder of the tranquil ambiance pervading this secluded corner of the neighborhood. Upon arriving at the doorstep, Harry carefully set the guitar case down, its worn surface scraping faintly against the rough-hewn welcome mat as he rummaged through the depths of his right-hand pocket in search of the elusive house keys.

As Harry's fingertips probed the recesses of his pocket, the muffled clinking of metal against fabric heralded the impending emergence of the sought-after keychain. With a triumphant flourish, he produced the gleaming bunch, holding aloft the small collection of interlocking silver rings like a trophy won in some minor victory. Residual daylight caught the jagged teeth of the individual keys, casting miniature shadows upon the adjacent surfaces as Harry busied himself identifying the relevant key.