A Dreamers Dream

Till now, I always got by on my own

"Ooh watch out, here comes the boss," Freddie quips from his seat at the end of the table, and I see him rise up out of his chair and give Harry a manly handshake/half-hug thing, you know the way men do. I take a moment to take in Harry's appearance, he's wearing a dark T-shirt and jeans, his hair is perfectly styled in that 'just rolled out of bed' look that he pulls off so well. I'm amazed I didn't spot him earlier.

The atmosphere around the table changes slightly as Harry and Freddie chat amicably. It's clear that no matter how normally Harry behaves, very few people seem able to differentiate between Harry the superstar and Harry the twenty-four-year-old guy who grew up just down the road from this very bar. Every laugh is just a little bit too loud, every greeting a little bit too enthusiastic, I swear I can see the eyes of the other women around the table clouding over slightly as they gaze at his lithe form in front of them. His comment about how 'I don't put on an act for him' from breakfast makes much more sense, and I suddenly feel strangely protective towards him, it must be exhausting feeling like no one ever truly relaxes in your company.

As Sammy makes her way over to the bar with Clark to buy him a celebratory drink, I see Harry extricate himself from his conversation with Freddie out of the corner of my eye and make his way over to my end of the booth. When he catches my eye, he begins a slow clap, which he keeps up, right until he slides into the now empty space beside me, where there isn't enough room for him to be honest. Sammy and I have been half sitting on each other's laps in a space that's really only designed to fit one person, so he has to squeeze his thigh right up against mine in order to balance himself on the remaining space and the heat of him pressed against me is somewhat overwhelming.

"Well, well, well. That was quite something" Harry says with a smile, and I feel the heat rising into my cheeks.
"Thanks, erm, Clark kind of blindsided me. I had absolutely no intention of singing tonight," I admit.
"I can't understand why you wouldn't, with a voice like that. You should be up on every stage you go near! Except for mine, of course. I'm a bit of a narcissist.. not sure I'm quite ready to share the limelight with someone who sounds like you do, to be honest." Harry says, nudging my shoulder gently with his own.
"Ha! I'm pretty sure your job is safe don't worry, although, who says I'd lower myself to sharing a stage with you anyways?" I tease him, finally regaining my confidence after his unexpected appearance.

"Ooh, feisty. I'll have you know that sharing a stage with me is a very enjoyable experience. I've got a few mates I can call who'll back me up if you'd like?" he fires back not missing a beat.
"Ahh yes, please, call up your boyband friends to prove your point. Maybe you're just having trouble filling that big stage by yourself, eh? Missing your partners in crime?" I ask him, batting my eyelashes slightly to take the sting out of my words as I place the straw from my drink between my teeth and take a hearty sip.

"Ouch, Trouble! That hurt! I'm wounded." Harry complains, pressing his hands over his heart "There was me, just trying to give you a compliment."
"Aww I'm sorry, did I hurt the big rock-stars feelings? Don't worry, this time tomorrow there will be nigh on twenty thousand people screaming your name at the tops of their lungs. I'm sure they'll be able to piece your fragile ego back together." I mock him relentlessly.

I'm probably pushing my luck a little bit. Still, he did say he liked that I didn't put on an act, and after seeing how the other crew members react to him, I am even more determined to just be myself, and this is how I act with all my friends. A healthy dose of banter is good in all relationships.

To my relief, Harry lets out one of his hearty little boy laughs and doesn't look remotely offended as he leans across and takes my glass from my hand, and downs the rest of my rum and coke in one.
"You seem to have run out of alcohol," He says nonchalantly as he places the glass back on the table and wipes the back of his mouth with his hand.
"Bars over there," I replied cheekily, pointing across to the other side of the room. "I'd say as you, very rudely I might add, just polished off MY drink, that you owe me another."