The Fort Lodge is a place that I've always drove past and thought I'd really love to go in there one day. I mean, it's virtually on mum and dad's doorstep, but it's not a place for your average local, put it that way.

It's exclusive.

It's posher than posh.

An high-end establishment.

It's just somewhere that I've never gotten round to ever checking out, which is an awful thing for a local girl like me to admit. Not that I'm feeling short changed about it or anything. I have stayed in some pretty impressive places in my time. My work has afforded me that luxury. What I do, often takes me away from my home in Minchinhampton, so I get to stay in many different hotels in many different places. So when I am home, that is just where I love to be—home.

But now that I am here, standing outside of The Fort Lodge; yeah, I have to admit that it really is in a league of its own. Set right within the Cotswold countryside, it truly is a charming country lodge. The greenest ivy, beautifully coats the pretty frontage of the grade 2 listed Georgian house, making it so splendidly inviting.

Just having a quick gander all around of me, the mature woodland and the landscaped grounds that the hotel is so gorgeously nestled within, are something that I find to be just as impressive and just as inviting. I really must bring my mum and dad here for afternoon tea, I happily muse to myself while I'm taking appreciative and ladylike strides inside of the rather lovely lodge. With womanly confidence, I approach the main reception. "Morning, I'm here to see Mitch Heston? My name is Rebecca Adams, he's expecting me." With the same confidence, I have a brief little nose around the inside of Fort Lodge. It's elegant and luxurious, decorated and furnished in shimmering golds and silvers, looking every bit as decadent as I thought it would be.

"Mr Heston is indeed expecting you, one of our porters shall escort you up to his suite, Mrs Adams." The well-spoken young man tells me, quickly followed by one of his obligatory hotel reception smiles.

"It's actually, Miss." I quickly correct him, watching that obligatory reception smile literally fall from off his polite and well-meaning face.

"Okay then, Miss Adams, Mr Heston is ready for you." With that, he motions for a porter to come straight over. "Could you please take Miss Adams up to the King Henry suite?"

Nodding just the once, a much more mature looking man, with the name boldly printed on his name tag, kindly starts leading the way to the lifts. Once he has politely ushered me in first and the doors swiftly close, I wonder whether I should start making a little small talk, but by the time I have made up my mind that I will, the lift doors are already opening again and Robert is wanting me to step out of it. "It's just down here," he says with a warm and professional smile.

It's only as we get closer to the King Henry suite, do I actually begin to feel a little anxious about seeing Mitch again. Which is completely and utterly ridiculous. I'm a business woman. I have met with men and women who make Mitch Heston look like candy floss in human form. So I quickly sweep aside those anxious thoughts that I am so stupidly now having and just knock on the door. "Thank you." So caught up in my slightly anxious thoughts, I belatedly call out to the porter who had just so kindly escorted me here. Robert glances back over his shoulder at me, gently waving, but I don't have time to react, because the door is soon opened by the very smiley and welcoming Mitch Heston.

"Rebecca, thank you for coming." Moving back from the door slightly, he is eager to get me inside. "Can I get you anything?" He asks as I begin to enter the very stunning and very lavish King Henry suite.

"No thanks. So where's your computer?" I casually enquire, eyeing the gorgeous hotel room with subtle envy. With a continuation of the shimmering gold and silver themes, his suite really is rather lovely.

Clasping his hands in front of himself, Mitch now looks positively sheepish. "Yes, about that...I don't actually have one."

Confused, I'm now frowning in his very sheepish direction. "But you said you had a computer problem? That is why I am here, Mitch?"

Shrugging, he now almost looks like a naughty little boy who has just been found with his hand deeply inside of a biscuit barrel. "Well, technically speaking, not having a computer, could actually be classed as having a bit of a problem, right?"

Huffing hard and loudly, I hot foot it right back to the hotel door, totally unimpressed with him. "Goodbye, Mitch."

Rushing over, he tries to stop me. "I'm sorry. It was a bit of a shitty thing to do. I can only apologise." His hand is now on my arm.

Angry at him, I make it known that I am. "I don't like games and I don't like being lied to. Now please remove your hand so I can just get out of here?"

Mitch's blue eyes, quietly plead to my own blue and angry ones. "Don't go? I really am sorry. I just wanted to see you again before flying back to LA tonight."

More confused than ever. More inwardly conflicted than I was before, I tilt my head with my shoulders rising. "But why, Mitch? You couldn't even stand me at school?"

Respectfully letting go of my arm, Mitch then gently pulls me away from the door, maybe to ensure that I won't leave him just yet, before standing himself right in front of me. "It wasn't that at all, Rebecca. It was your mind. Your mind intimidated me." Looking more sorry than ever, his thoughts begin to wander, to somewhere that he now wants to share with me. "My father, he had very high hopes for me. He's a lecturer in Forensic Science, and he wanted me to get into something just as solid. But I was never like him. I didn't have the same intellect. I was never going to be as academic and as clever as he was. My father's expectations for me, were always so unattainably high. So when I saw you and some of the other girls, who were far more clever than I ever would be, making fun of you all pathetically made me feel better about myself for a little while."

There it was, his reason.

His raw and honest reason as to why he used to tease me.

I have no words to give back to Mitch, and he knows that, so he feels the need to add more to his sorry tale. "I couldn't see beyond the brains, the glasses and the books. I didn't want to. It was easier that way. It made it easier to be horrible to you and the other girls. Because all I could see, were some girls who were more clever than I ever would be." Then, he nervously reaches for my arm, wanting to hold my elbow gently between his fingers. "And when I saw you last night, I could see for myself what an incredibly strong and intelligent woman you had become...how beautifully strong and intelligent you now are." His fingers then lightly squeeze while his blue stare on me apologetically softens. "You needed to have a proper apology, Rebecca, and I just needed to see you again." His words, they are marinaded with such raw and open honesty.

Part of who I am, is someone who is a good communicator, but right now, I can't seem to string a single sentence together. Being here, with an apologetic Mitch Heston, with his blue eyes truthfully staring back at me, while his fingers hold onto my elbow and every single time he says my name my tummy does this odd and crazy little flip thing—I just have zero words.

"Say something?" Mitch boyishly smiles, awkwardly shrugging his shoulders.

"I don't know what to say?" Just as awkwardly, I smile back at him.

Breathing in hard, Mitch decides to lighten the mood. "Okay, you don't have to say anything. You go and sit down while I fix us both a drink."

"I'm driving, so nothing alcoholic for me." Is what I quickly tell him while I slowly perch myself on the edge of the very comfortable sofa. Not that I'm benefiting from any of its comfort, I'm still feeling a little stunned by all that Mitch has just said to me.

When he strolls back in, with what looks like fresh orange juice, I watch him coming closer. "Well, I guess we have ten years to catch up on...tell me about yourself?" Mitch says, sitting quite near to me on the sofa.

Holding the drink in my hand, it becomes a focal point for me. "There's not much to tell. I work. A lot. I started off small with my business, but year on year it has been rapidly growing. Cyber security is now dominating a lot of what I do, so I am already thinking about expanding the franchise."

Mitch nods, eyeing me with an impressed smile. "You sound like you enjoy it?"

With pride, I am more than keen to reply. "I love it. Every day, I'm getting to do something that I really enjoy doing." Having a happy little sip of my drink, I feel more comfortable to now look at Mitch. "It must be the same for you?"

Pursing his lips, he nods just the once. "Pretty much."

I'm liking the fact that he's not at all big-headed about his successes. Mitch could be, maybe he even should be? As an actor, he's huge. Any films that he stars in, are always massive box office hits. Wherever in the world that he is, people want to know why he is there. That's his life as a hugely popular actor. The world, it now owns him. "Okay, I really want to know why you came to the reunion. Was it just some big PR stunt?" I ask with an high grin, because I genuinely am interested to know the real reason why he attended such a thing.

Swallowing down some of his juice, Mitch then holds his glass with both of his hands. "I'd just finished a really tiring promotional schedule, and thought why the hell not go?" He's now smiling, tapping the side of his glass while he does. "I guess I just needed some time out. Going to the reunion gave me that, whilst being able to feed my curiosity about how all of my former classmates had turned out." Then, his chin lifts so he can squarely look me in the eyes. "I'm really glad that I did go."

Without him even saying it, I know exactly what Mitch is meaning.

He's talking about me.

He's talking about us both being here, now, like this.

I'm quietly flattered, quietly enjoying his company. "Did you stay in touch with anyone from school?" I chirpily ask, hoping that my question will stop Mitch from lingering that lovely stare of his on me.

"Not really." He doesn't seem too interested in talking about himself, he seems far more relaxed when he's talking about me. "Do you still read? You always had your head in a book at school. I'd really like to know how many times you have actually now read Macbeth, as well?"

Chuckling, I put my drink down on the table. "A lot!" Knowingly, I'm now smiling at him.

Mitch's shoulders rise while he's grinning across at me. "But why read it so many times when you know what happens?"

"Because I enjoy it. Every time I read it, it feels different. Depending on my mood, the words can be interpreted in many different ways. That is what I love about reading. It gives air to the mind and fire to the soul." Okaaaay, a tad heavy there, Rebecca! Suddenly feeling a little embarrassed by my passionate outpouring for reading, I decide to deflect some of that embarrassment. "Anyway, at least I do read, I bet all you read are your scripts and your reviews?" I'm jovially now messing with him.

Mitch just grins. "This is payback for me teasing you, right?"

"Ohhhhh, I'm only just getting started, Mitchy boy!"

Rolling his eyes, he then winces. "And now I get the silly nickname!" For a short and lovely moment, we are laughing together. Laughing over something so silly. Then, Mitch starts talking again. "Admittedly, I don't read much, but sometimes I do."

"Okay, tell me what you read?" I ask him, because I really do want to know. Mitch Heston keeps on surprising me. He is showing me that he can be warm and personable. He is becoming someone who I am glad to be conversing with...and that really has surprised me.

Having yet another sip of his orange juice, Mitch finally gives me his answer after he gently swallows it down. "Well, scripts...obviously."

Agreeing with a smirk, I happily nod in his direction. "Obviously" I so teasingly answer.

Ignoring it with a small smile, Mitch goes on. "And newspapers, maybe some magazines."

Okay, this is where I amusingly just have to interrupt. "Please tell me that you're not one of those celebrities who reads stories of themselves in those glossy showbiz mags?" I'm fixed on him, all wide-eyed and curious.

For the first time, Mitch becomes bashful in my presence. "It happens...from time to time." He so shyly admits.

That's it. I'm laughing. Not just laughing like a lady, no this is boisterous and ungraceful, with short and unfeminine snorts. Rocking back and forth, I just keep on laughing. "Oh my God! I can't believe that you've just admitted that to me!" On goes, my raucous laughter.

Shaking his head slowly from side to side, Mitch is watching me with a reluctant smile now there upon his twitching mouth. "Yup...this is definitely payback." Then he turns more serious for a moment, leaning in towards me. "Before being so rudely interrupted by a slightly hysterical little piglet that's sitting beside me, I was also going to say that I really like to read books about travel and different countries."

That causes my laughter to simmer down. "Really?" I ask, now only wearing the last of my laughter around my soft and parted lips.

Mitch appears to be looking down at my lips before his eyes finally venture back up to mine. "Yeah, whenever my work takes me to somewhere new, I like to check it out beforehand. Then if I have time, I like to visit some places."

I don't know why, but his answer just sounds so sweet to me. He must be so incredibly busy, that I should imagine he doesn't get much time for himself away from his acting, but to know that he tries to find out about the many places that he goes to, strikes a relatable chord with me. I tend to do the same thing. "Travel books are good. They're very interesting." I happily say, kind of glad to feel like I finally have some common ground with him.

Mitch doesn't say anything. He's just watching me. It's like he wants to say so much, but doesn't even know where to begin. "I'm glad you came, Rebecca." Nervously, he wonders whether it would be okay to reach out and touch my hand down by my thigh. I watch him do it. I watch his fingers stretch out to softly place themselves on my knuckles. When I let him do that, he then slowly picks up my hand and wraps his fingers warmly around it. "Why didn't I ever see what was behind your glasses and the books you were reading?"

My answer falls from out of my mouth. "I don't know? I think you only saw me as a geek?"

Mitch closes his eyes, like he's trying to remember whether that was true or not. When he opens them again, I see nothing but the blueness of regret in his spheres. "I'm sorry. You never deserved how I treated you."

I simply smile, willing to let go of what has passed between us all those years before. "Stop apologising. It's done now."

But Mitch, I don't think he is yet ready to do that. "I have to apologise, because I just don't understand why I couldn't see how beautiful you were."

Now, I gently need to laugh. "Mitch, I was a geek. My hair was a mess. My teeth were a mess. It's taken some work to get me to look how I do now, you know?" I'm joking, but very aware that his fingers are still tightly wrapped around my hand.

Mitch is now staring down at my lips again, like he is imagining all the ways in which he would like to try and kiss them. Then I, begin to stare across at his; wondering whether I'd actually like him to try all of those ways. Which is totally ridiculous, right?

I mean, he's Mitch Heston.

Hottie heartthrob.

Hollywood royalty.

International megastar.

The man of the boy who used to tease me.

This is insane, yes?

I'm a woman who prides herself on always having her head tightly screwed on, I don't intend on getting screwed by Mr Hollywood Hotshot. I don't care how attractive he is or how charming he currently is being—it's just not happening. "Listen, I really have to go. Mum and dad are cooking a roast, so I should leave." Pulling free from his warm fingers, I quickly stand. "It's been lovely to catch up with you, Mitch. Have a safe flight back, won't you?"

Following where I am trying to go, he is watching me with disappointment. "Have I done something wrong?" Is so quietly asked by him.

"No, I just don't want to be late for my parents." I quickly tell a little white lie.

"So if I was to kiss you, I wouldn't be treading on anyone else's toes?" He's coming closer, ready to stop me from opening the door to his hotel room.

I turn, not really knowing how I should respond. "The only man in my life is my little fella Jaws, remember?" Stupidly, I mean stupidly, tumbles out of my now very nervous mouth.

Smiling, Mitch now has me pinned between himself and his hotel room door. "Jaws, your goldfish?" His question is lowly asked, while his eyes roam just as lowly over my mouth.

Finding it hard to breathe normally, I do my best to appear like I can. "That's right, he can get fiercely jealous if I lock lips with anyone." Oh God, I'm blatantly now flirting with him!

Placing just one of his hands above my head, Mitch is now so dizzily close. "What a fish doesn't see, a fish won't know." His body is pressing itself against mine, warmly seducing me with just its heat and its persuasive pressure. "My mouth really wants to kiss yours, Rebecca?"

I'm getting consumed by the moment. Irrationally consumed. For just a senseless second, I breathe in Mitch's masculinity and his wanting of me. But I'm Rebecca Adams. I don't do this sort of thing. I don't go around snogging people in hotel rooms after just a few sips of orange juice and a nostalgic trip down memory lane. "I'm sorry, I can't do this." Pushing him back, I just need to gain some composure. "This is getting out of hand, Mitch. I'm worth more than just being some bored celebrity's little bit of fun before he leaves the bloody country."

Bringing himself warmly back against me, Mitch then cages me in as the palms of both his hands are flatly pressed against the wall. "Is that what you think this is?"

Confidently, I answer him. "I know that is what this is."

Gently sweeping his head from one slow side to the other, Mitch quietly then says. "You're wrong, Rebecca." Then, his face moves closer; intensely closer. "I messed up with the strong and clever girl you used to be. I don't want to make the same mistake with the strong and clever woman that you now are." His one hand then begins to touch my face, cherishing it with his featherlight fingertips. "This isn't just a bit of fun for me, I'd like to see where this will go with us?"