Oliver was already regretting the headset.

He had only been driving for five minutes, and Brooks had managed to recap this week's episode of Bake-Off (Tim's lemon tart had been a disaster), what he'd eaten for dinner (fish and chips) and his thoughts on adopting parrots as pets (generally negative). By the time Oliver parked outside the golf shop that Alicia worked at, he was losing his mind.

"Brooks?"

"Yes?"

"We're mates now, right?"

"I like to think so."

Oliver gritted his teeth. "In that case, can you do me a favour?"

"Sure thing."

"Kindly shut-up."

"Ah. Right." There was an embarrassed pause. "Use the headset in emergencies only. Duly noted."

Oliver knocked on the door. A moment later, Alicia appeared, dressed in jeans, a white hoodie, and a pair of trainers. His heart lurched. It was criminal, really, that she could look so good in nothing fancy. He suspected she'd look even better in nothing at all.

He gave himself a mental shake.

No. Bad thoughts.

He only had one shot at this; he couldn't screw it up.

Should he shake her hand? No. That was weird. But kissing her cheek felt too intimate, somehow. He settled on a hug, at the same time that Alicia went for a peck on the cheek. Their heads cracked together.

She flinched. "Ow!"

Stars exploded in front of his eyes. Oliver cursed colorfully, rubbing at his nose. Brooks snickered into his headset.

"Very smooth, Hogarth."

Oliver glowered. "Will you shut-up?"

"What?" Alicia frowned. "I haven't said anything yet."

Oliver froze. Oh, god.

"Not you," Oliver said hurriedly. "I meant the..." He cast around for inspiration. "That gate. By the shop. Yeah. It's really loud tonight, with the wind."

Brooks snickered some more. Oliver made a mental note to melt down all of his bodyguard's beloved guns and turn them into decorative sculptures. Alicia looked at Oliver as if he had gone mad. Which, he supposed, was entirely fair, given that he appeared to be shouting at non-animate objects.

She scooped up her purse. "Shall we go?"

Mercifully, the hour-long drive into Edinburgh went far better. Alicia chatted about a golfer from Dublin that she had caddied for the previous day, doing a rather impressive Irish accent, and Oliver managed to keep the car on the road — no small feat, considering that he had once driven into a neighbour's mailbox. His driver, James, was always saying that it was a good job Oliver was a celebrity, or he would have paid a fortune in fines by now.

Oliver made a mental note to send James a video of his flawless gear shifting.

Or maybe not.

Come to think of it, James would have a heart attack at the very thought of Oliver behind the wheel in a busy city. Best not to mention it.

Alicia sat up slightly as they reached the outskirts. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

She smiled. "You're very mysterious sometimes, you know."

Trust me, Oliver thought wryly. You don't know the half of it.

Edinburgh was a jumble of black spires against the burning sky. They followed the main road down Princes Street, gliding between high-street shops and a large, grassy expanse to their right. The clocktower struck the hour as they passed. Exactly nine o'clock.

Oliver drove to the end of the road, parking alongside Calton Hill. Alicia looked out the window at the grassy slope — large and silent as a sleeping giant in the darkness — and arched an eyebrow.

"Is this the part where you murder me?"

Oliver unbuckled his seatbelt. "Give me some credit; I'd park near the docks for that."

"Bodies float, you know."

"Well," Oliver said wryly, "I do now."

They stepped out of the car. Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver could see Brooks setting up camp in his black Sedan, pulling out a blanket and a book. He squinted. A very red book, actually, with a swooning woman in a corset on the cover.

What the hell?

Alicia nudged him. "Ollie?"

"Hmm?"

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing." He tore his eyes away. "Just a squirrel."

He guided her up the hill. Well, Oliver used "guided" in a very loose sense; Alicia bounded up the steep incline ahead of him, while Oliver puffed behind her, trying desperately not to trip over his own feet in the darkness. His earbud crackled.

"What are you doing?" Brooks. "Go take her hand."

"She's too fast," he hissed.

"Well, get your arse in gear."

"I'm trying!"

Brooks gave a long-suffering sigh. "Remember when I told you to incorporate more broccoli into your diet?"

"Oh, shut-up."

"At least give her your coat," Brook said. "Girls love that shit."

"How would you know?"

There was a pause. Oliver frowned.

"Brooks?"

His voice was defensive. "I read a lot of romance novels, alright?"

"I knew it!" Oliver's voice shot up, and Alicia paused, turning around to give him a curious look. He flashed her a smile. "Er. Knew that you'd be so quick up this hill, that is. And it turns out that I was right."

"Good save," Brooks said.

Oliver didn't miss the sarcasm in his voice.

He caught up to Alicia. She was squinting at the stone building in front of them, tilting her head to the left. The green structure on top of the tower — round as a drum, spiked like a crown — seemed to glow faintly in the darkness.

"What is it?"

"Come on." He jingled a set of keys. "I'll show you."

He led her up the steps and into the narrow tower. Alicia's eyes skipped around the room, drinking in the walls of books, the coiled staircase, the rickety ladder; it was only when her gaze landed on the massive bronze telescope that she paused.

"Wait," she said. "Is this...?"

He watched as Alicia stepped closer, running a finger over the copper. There was something guarded in her touch. An almost reverence.

"Oh, my god," she breathed. "This is an observatory, isn't it?"

She turned to face him. Her dark eyes reflected the low-burning lights, turning into twin interstellar pools. He could see a million little stars in them, shining more brightly than the ones outside this building.

"Yes."

"I don't understand." She shook her head. "How did you get the keys?"

"One of my Dad's friends."

This wasn't strictly a lie; the Scottish Prime Minister was a friend of his father's. Oliver had also performed at her son's birthday party last year, which certainly didn't hurt matters, either. Alicia pressed her eye to the telescope.

"It's beautiful," she murmured.

His earpiece crackled. Brooks. "Tell her that she's beautiful, too."

Oliver ignored this.

Alicia adjusted the telescope. "This view is gorgeous."

"Oh, come on," Brooks huffed. "She's practically handing you the opening, mate."

Nah. Oliver was going to strangle him, and then throw out all of his broccoli right in front of him. And that was just the beginning.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Alicia leaned closer to the instrument. "There's a whole other world out there, and we can't even see most of it."

"Tell her she's your world," Brooks threw in. "No, wait. Say your world was dark before you met her, but she's brought light into your life." He paused. "That could be a David Bowie song, actually, now that I'm thinking about it."

Right. That was the last straw.

Oliver reached for his earbud. Static crackled across the line, and Brooks must have figured out what he was about to do, because his voice took on a warning tone.

"Hogarth. Don't you dare—"

Oliver ripped out the headset.

He threw it behind a potted plant, wincing as it clattered slightly. Fortunately, Alicia was too preoccupied with the telescope to notice.

"Come here," she said. "You have to see this."

A/N: Is anyone else a sucker for the "wear-an-earpiece-on-a-date" trope? I love the scene in "The Ugly Truth" where Gerard Butler is giving Katherine Heigl advice during her dinner date via earpiece — literal comedy gold.

Affectionately,

J.K.