A Dreamers Dream

Coast to coast. New York & Los Angeles, USA.

Harry's perspective.

Stretching out my hands I gently cup her face and lean forward, resting my forehead against hers, marvelling in her soft porcelain skin so close to my own and inhaling the slight scent of last nights perfume which is still clinging to her. I don't honestly know when I was last so grateful to someone. I probably would have made even more of a fool out of myself last night, done something I'd really regret if it weren't for her. I make a mental note to send her flowers as I straighten myself back up.

"Thank you," I whisper again, and she flashes me a blindingly bright smile in response before turning to make her way down the long coffee coloured corridor and into the lift. The moment she steps inside and the doors slide closed I shuffle my way back inside the comfort of my room, closing the door as gingerly as possible so as to not wake anyone else on the floor it's still ridiculously early and, to be honest, I don't fancy having to explain to Jeff or any of the other members of my team whose rooms are also up here, why a pretty blonde is leaving my room in last nights clothes first thing in the morning.

God, I feel like death. One of these days I am going to realise that Tequila on an empty stomach just isn't a good idea, you'd think that might be a lesson I'd have managed to learn already but the pounding in my head and my churning stomach are proof that I've not, even if I can't actually remember how much I drank last night.

Groggily I make my way into the bathroom and start up the shower, stripping off my black boxers and discarding them in the doorway. I don't even bother to wait for the water to heat up before I step under it, instantly wincing away when the cool droplets hit my temple, causing my head to pound even more. In frustration, I clench my fist and hit the edge of it against the cool tiles beside me, not hard enough to do any damage to myself or them, but enough to distract me from my headache for just a moment and to snap me back to reality.

Idiot! I scold myself, frustrated with my behaviour. I rarely ever drink when I'm touring, not to excess, at any rate, I might have a glass or two of red wine after a show to relax, but that's about it, but last night I totally went off the rails, threw all my rules out of the window and tried desperately to drown my sorrows in the seemingly unending supply of tequila at a local New York 'hot spot'. Another bad idea on my part, going to a club in the middle of NYC which is known to be a favourite amongst celebs, and getting wasted, I can't honestly remember if there were paps waiting outside when we left, but I am certain that there were a few when we arrived and word spreads quickly in the media. Fuck I better text Jeff when I get out of here and see if there's any damage, I think to myself as I pick up my shower gel and get to work washing the tequila stink off of my skin.

I stand under the shower for an inordinately long time, just letting the water cascade over my body whilst I rack my brains trying to remember any detail I can from the night before.

I know that it was my idea to hit the club, that Mitch tried to dissuade me to no avail and eventually just opted to come with me as a kind of chaperone... I remember buying the first bottle of tequila, then going back to the bar for a second and telling the barmaid there that anything my group wanted for the rest of the night was to be charged to me, that I'd settle the bill with them before leaving, but for the life of me I can't remember if I actually did or not. I better add them to my list of people to contact I think as I grab the fluffy white hotel towel from the heater by the door and start to dry myself off half-heartedly, cringing as my head spins when I bend to dry my legs and opting to sit on the closed toilet lid to finish off to minimise the risk of falling flat on my face. I can just imagine what Jeff would say if I turned up in Washington DC tomorrow with a black eye or a broken nose.

I remember there was a lot of dancing... a hell of a lot actually, I even vaguely remember getting up on top of my table at one point, with my glass in one hand, a bottle of tequila in the other and a fluffy bright purple feather boa draped around my neck which I stole off one of the other patrons. I remember a few of my friends who live in the area arriving and joining in with the party a couple of hours after we arrived. But then things get decidedly fuzzy.