Pretty Please Don't Pinch Me

9. Meet The Family

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I am a complete bundle of nerves as we leave the gallery, and I absentmindedly tear up a brochure in my hands that we had received on the way out. Nervous habit.

"You're going to make me nervous if you keep going the way that you are," he says calmly.

"You do realise you play your music to thousands of people, and yet you find the idea of meeting my parents intimidating?" I ask, putting things into perspective.

He shrugs rather sheepishly which I find incredibly endearing, but try to think of something else instead, rather than the rapidly exceeding list of qualities I'm beginning to adore in him.

I stop myself further from fidgeting, and instead trace my finger over the stitching on the leather seats while directing Harry on how to get to my house. There is just so much for me to be concerned about, it's almost like my brain is in overdrive on what to worry about most. Like how my family are going to interact with a celebrity, what he'll think of my home, if my family will say embarrassing things, and also the fact that I've never brought a boy home before. Even though these are completely different circumstances as I was politely reminded earlier by being referred to as 'friend'. I don't know why that comment in particular has gotten to me so much, but it continues to reverberate around my brain. I don't believe it was necessarily the word per say, but in the manner he said it. Like he was stating the terms of what we were before I got the wrong idea, and then he just invites himself along to a family dinner and confuses me even more so. Why do boys make my brain hurt?

Without even realising my own actions, I am slowly tearing up the brochure again and have Harry lean over and take it out of my hands.

"Enough of that, Missy," he lightly scolds, scrolling it up and tapping me on the arm with it. "Just relax."

We stop at traffic lights and he takes this moment to focus on me briefly.

"Please, you need to stop your worrying. It's written all over your face," he says and gives me a reassuring smile.

The twenty minute drive flies by, and before I know it we're pulling up into my driveway. Harry whistles at the house as he steps out onto the walkway.

"Very nice," he compliments on our Victorian styled home.

"Thanks, it's almost 150 years old. Dad had it all refurbished and when you get inside you'll see his vision ."

We walk up to the royal blue coloured door, and I take a moment to breathe before I turn the handle. I am immediately greeted with the pleasant smell of roast lamb and vegetables cooking away. We walk cautiously through the house, before I catch my dad out of the corner of my eye, sitting in his chair in his study, reading today's newspaper. He sees us and gets up out of his chair, and before I know it he's embracing me in one of his big dad hugs that I've missed so much.

"I've missed you kiddo," he says letting me go and kissing me on the head. "You must be..." He trails off a little awkwardly as he holds out his hand for Harry to shake.

"Harry," Harry replies, as he shakes my father's hand. What I find more surprising than Dad not knowing Harry's name, is how Harry reacted to this. He didn't seem at all startled or annoyed, but as a normal, polite guy would act. Can he be any more perfect?

"I'm sorry," he replies. Charlotte did tell me," he explains, rather abashed. There are actual tears of laughter ready to flow at any moment at this funny little situation. I can't wait to see his face when he realises what he's done, considering he thinks he's a pretty cool dad. I like to think of him as a Phil Dunphy type character from the sitcom Modern Family, but never had the heart to tell him. Extremely loveable, but very entertainingly naive.