A Dreamers Dream

Somewhere on the M40, England.

I've been driving my car for a good forty minutes before I finally manage to get my palms to stop sweating and my heart to stop feeling like it's about to explode out of my chest. If you'd have asked me this morning, when Harry pulled up in his flashy rental car, how today was going to pan out, I'd have gone through a thousand guesses – most of which would have included me making a twat out of myself in some way or another. As is usually the case when I'm around him. Before I landed on the bombshell that Harry so kindly dropped on me as we stood next to my battered old Micra in the hotel car park in Birmingham where I'd abandoned it just a couple of days ago.

The journey itself went rather well, I thought. I managed not to spill a single drop of my coffee on to the plush leather seating, or myself or on Harry for that matter. We discovered a mutual love for Kings of Leon and vintage rock music as we cruised down the motorway at over seventy miles an hour in the car that made you feel like you were barely moving at all, singing our hearts out.

We laughed, we joked, we got to know one and other. And I think I can officially now say that Harry Styles is not only my boss, but he's also my friend. As much as that thought gives me a delightfully fuzzy feeling in the pit of my tummy that I can't quite explain, nor do I want to investigate too closely right now, to be honest. Never in a million years would I have expected him to have gone so above and beyond so early in our friendship. But I guess that is the difference between ordinary people and Rock Stars, something so monumentous to me, is nothing more than a phone call to him.

"So, erm, do you have any plans on Thursday?" Harry had asked me apropos of nothing as he hefted my suitcase out of the boot of the beautiful Maserati and pushed it into the rather sad looking boot of my Micra. I said a silent apology to my guitar as I placed it on the back seat, back to reality I'm afraid. No more riding in style for us today. Style haha... Forcing myself to focus, I straightened up to respond to Harry, narrowly missing bashing my head on the door frame in the process.

"Well I'm planning to stay at my flat whilst we're down South, actually sneak in a good nights sleep or two ya know? So I guess I'll probably pop over to my parents maybe, or catch up with my brother. Why do you ask?" I queried.
"Ok look, don't be upset ok? But I might have kinda... sorta... set up a meeting for you in London." He said, the last part in a rush. More quickly than I've ever heard him speak and stopped walking a few feet away from me. Choosing to lean back against the car instead, his tattoed arms folded across his chest, muscles bulging. My car of course, not his posh rental, god forbid he leave an arse print on that!
"Er, ok... what kind of meeting? Please don't tell me that my position as the crew dogs body is being extended to running random errands for you outside of the venues. I'll be needing a raise if that's the case." I teased him

"No, actually this is something for you. I might have sent the video of you singing the other night, the one that Sammy took? On to an associate of mine, and, well, they want to meet with you." He said, his eyes focused firmly on the floor, refusing to look at me.
"WHAT! Fuck, Harry, that's...." and that was as far as I got. All the hundreds of thousands of words I had learnt since I first started speaking at ten months old dropped out of my head, and I stood there like an idiot with my mouth hanging open. Staring at Harry as though he'd just grown another head.
"Ok, I'm just going to close this for you." He said with a slight smirk, reaching out and pushing my jaw closed with the tip of his index finger. "The meetings at one in Soho, I'll text you all the details you need, just, maybe try and remember how to speak before then. Deal?"
I nodded mutely, completely unable to form a sentence or even a coherent thought. Shit!

"Are you going to be ok to drive?" Harry asked me, and the concerned look in his eyes finally snapped me back into something slightly resembling a human being. I managed to respond, with actual words and everything, go me.
"Yes... Harry, this is, you didn't have to do... What I mean is..." I trailed off again.
"Maddie?"
"Um-hmm"
"Just say, thank you."
"Thank you. You called me Maddie." I observed like an idiot
"You called me Harry first, don't get used to it Trouble." He replied.