Ok, I have this feeling that I'm doing way too much. But I thought of all these things and I had to write them down. What if Harry had gone to America?

Dear Nikki,

America! We will get to it eventually. But first I must tell you that I have just bought myself an iPhone. Yes. You read right. I have delved into the land of technology. Which makes me feel incredibly luddite-ish for now sending you an old fashioned letter, which will take days to reach you, when I could easily send you an email and you could receive it in seconds. But I promised I would, so here I am doing it. You better feel grateful.

It's amazing Niks. A door to door salesman knocked on my door yesterday. I was expecting him to try and coerce me into buying a vacuum cleaner/bleach/kitchen gadget or get me to become a Jehovah's Witness. No, instead he was selling cookie dough. Cookie dough at your doorstep! I bought some and I don't think I have much left; I'm ashamed to say I didn't even bother cooking it. He said he'd come back in 2 days. I wonder if I'll survive that long.

The job's good and everyone's really nice, but of course I miss you and Leo. You especially. And sometimes I feel like such an idiot for taking this job.

Someone at the office asked me if I had left a girlfriend behind. I really didn't know what to say to that Niks. I told them there was someone special. Because that's all I could think to describe you. I think we've firmly established that you're not my girlfriend, but I really don't want to think of you as just my best friend, even if that's what you class us as, even though you probably won't even think we're that for much longer, seeing as we live on opposite sides of the Atlantic.

Somehow, it's so much easier writing this is a letter. Probably because I have a feeling you won't be able to decipher most of my scribbles.

The thing is Niks, right now: I like you more than getting all green lights when I'm driving somewhere. I like you more than thinking it's a weekday and then realizing it's Saturday. I like you more than that first foamy sip of a cappuccino. I like you more than the perfect high five - where your hands line up exactly and you get a great smacking sound. I like you more than roasting a marshmallow perfectly and not lighting it on fire once. I like you more than fresh bed sheets and the feel of that soft furry coat you have. I like you more than finally figuring out where I know that actor from. I like you more than finding a really good family run restaurant, with low prices, in London. I like you more than thinking up the perfect comeback. I like you more than a bowl of cereal at midnight. I like you more than when I have my iPod on shuffle, and a good song, which I'd forgotten about, starts playing. I like you more than the satisfaction of a cold drink after I've eaten something that was too hot.

And I know I'm not creative, but I want to paint you a picture and put it in a frame and hang it in your house. I want to sing a song with you like in that film you made me watch with the scrawny kid who knocks up Ellen Page. I want to take your hand and explore a forest or walk down a beach. I want to actually bake cookies, though you'll have to take charge if you don't want to be phoning the fire department. I want to eat the dough with you. I want to lean on your shoulder when I'm tired and I want you to lean on mine. I want to sneak glances at you in the darkness of the cinema. I want to tell you that you're great and make you believe it. I want to lose my favourite card game to you. I want to spend fifteen minutes of non-stop laughter with you. I want to send you ridiculous pictures I find online. I want to stomp in puddles with you and have water fights in summer with you.

I really have no idea what love is. Really, Niks, I don't. But I can't imagine feeling like this with anyone else. I would rather be with you than be with anyone else in the world right now. Just making faces at each other with you makes me so much happier than you could imagine.

And I really have no idea why on Earth I'm telling you all this after sodding off to America and leaving you. Mum always told me this quote, something like 'too often people just don't realize they had a diamond in their hands and dropped it to pick up a stone.' You're a diamond. London's a diamond. America's a massive fucking rock.

Love

Harry.

Dear Harry.

I'm not all that great at baking, but I guess I could give it a try. Although I must say I've heard your singing and I don't think we should try that option anytime soon.

More Love.

Nikki.

P.S. Nothing is better than midnight cereal.