A Dreamers Dream

Back where it all began. Surrey. England.

"Are you absolutely SURE about this?" I ask Harry for what is probably the hundredth time since he came up with this utterly ridiculous plan.

"Absolutely, positively, emphatically sure yes." He says without a trace of nerves in his bright green eyes as he buttons up the paisley print shirt he's chosen to wear this evening.

"They're going to eat you alive. You get that, right?"

"Trouble, I've sat in press conferences with hundreds of reporters desperately trying to get any clue about my personal life and grilling me for hours on end. I've performed in front of tens of thousands of people... I am fairly confident that I can manage to get through a dinner with your family."

"Which just goes to show how little you know about them!" I almost cry as I flop down on to the somewhat crumpled olive green sheets on Harry's bed. I probably should have straightened those out after I dragged Harry up here this afternoon for a little post-lunch sex but never mind. I dramatically throw my arm over my eyes in a pitiful attempt to block out the world. Maybe if I lie here long enough, it'll disappear, and we can stay hidden away in our perfect little bubble.

"My dad will make those reporters look like school children. I've not even told them about us yet!" I complain wondering how on earth I let him convince me to take him home with me, to the tiny little three bedroom semi-detached house that I grew up in. Where my childhood bedroom still remains, with bright pink wallpaper on one side and jet black on the other, because as a little rock chick, I couldn't resist letting out my dark side, but ultimately, I am also a girly girl, and every girly girl needs pink in their bedroom. Oh shit. The teddies! I forgot about them! There is a huge mountain of stuffed animals that now sleep on the unused bed, they really are going to destroy any attempts at convincing Harry that I am actually a grown-up! And I was doing such a good job of pretending too! Shit shit shit.

"Trouble, you worry too much. I'm sure we'll all get along fine. I'm gonna have to meet them sometime, right? Why put off till tomorrow, what you can do today?" He says, and I feel him place a soft kiss on the centre of my arm. I'm guessing that he was actually going for my forehead, but it's somewhat obstructed currently. "Now get that sexy arse of yours up and off my bed and get ready, before I lose the very tight grip I am currently exerting over the little solider and ravage you and make us late."

That finally gets my attention. Little??

"Erm, excuse me, LITTLE solider? That is just not a remotely appropriate nickname for your cock Mr Styles." I retort, finally sitting up and looking at him. God he's gorgeous, standing in front of the mirror fiddling with his hair, in his shirt and tight black jeans.. dammit, now I want to make us late... maybe I could distract him with sex long enough that we have to cancel!

"Well, I'd be a bit of a dick if I walked around calling him the huge solider now wouldn't I?" Harry chuckles.

An hour later and we are speeding down the M25 in Harry's sleek black Audi towards my parent's house, and I swear to god my hands have never been sweatier. It's absolutely bloody ridiculous that I am THIS nervous about taking a boy home, but, well, it's not something that I've ever done before. All my previous 'boyfriends', and believe me, I use that term very loosely, never ever got close enough to me to warrant being introduced to my parents. I couple of them met Michael along the way, but he never took any of them seriously, knowing full well that I didn't either. But turning up at my parent's house, with my new boyfriend, who they don't even know exists, let alone are expecting. Not to mention when that boyfriend is not only my boss but Harry bloody Styles... Fuck I think I'm going to throw up.

As we pull up outside the house and Harry switches off the engine, I glance over and can see the shadow of my mum in the dining room at the front of the house through the net curtains, she's setting the table by the looks of things. Crap do we even own a fifth dining chair? I don't remember us ever having the need for one before, when we had friends over when we were little, we'd always eat in the living room in front of the TV. The driver's door closes lightly as Harry exits the car, and I try and take the moment of solitude to pull myself together. Deep breaths Matilda. It's just dinner, you can do this. I slowly count to five before opening the door and stepping out onto the quiet suburban street. Averting my gaze from my house and praying that none of my parent's nosy neighbours are peeking out of their curtains at the superstar who's just pulled up down their road. God, they'll be gossiping for weeks if they catch sight of him.