A Dreamers Dream

Even my phone, misses your call. By the way. USA.

Maddie's perspective.

"God Maddie, what are you doing to me?" He asks in a low voice, slurring slightly, his eyes full of lust and without really thinking, with the fuzz of alcohol drifting through my head clouding my judgement and the drumbeat from the song pounding in my ears, I stretch up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his.

The moment our skin touches, I instantly know I've made a mistake. His lips are too thin, too dry, they don't mould around mine the way that Harry's used to, and they feel alien to me. I feel Deans tongue looking for an entrance, and instinctively I part my lips as his arms wind up behind my neck and drag me ever closer to his muscular body, and a slight shiver runs down my spine. Unfortunately, he misunderstands this as a good sign and deepens the kiss, his tongue probes my mouth, twisting and turning against my own, and a foreign taste assaults me. There's no hint of Harry's ever-present chewing gum sending minty freshness into my mouth, just the tang of whisky and stale cigarettes, I didn't even realise Dean smoked.

This isn't right. This was supposed to distract me from Harry, not remind me once again of all the things I have given up. His hands are too small on the back of my neck, I feel his fingers brush against my skin and instantly miss the rough callouses that decorate Harry's slender digits as Dean's too smooth ones skim across my neck, and finally, I come to my senses and pull away.

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have..." I begin, but Dean cuts me off

"No, no! Don't be sorry. Maddie, I've wanted to kiss you since the moment you walked out on that stage in Toronto." He says breathlessly, smiling widely from ear to ear and raising a hand up to tuck a stray strand of my hair behind my ear as he leans his mouth back down towards mine, involuntarily I cringe away from him, cursing myself for my stupidity.

Fuck I really have screwed this one up, haven't I? This man currently holds my future in his hands. If I offend him I could be throwing away the chance to fulfil my dreams, then everything, leaving the tour, leaving Harry, will have been for absolutely nothing, so I choose my next words very carefully. Taking a small step back to increase the distance between us, I force myself to look up into Deans bright blue eyes, shining with desire and my stomach turns over guiltily.

"Dean... I.. That was wrong of me. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lead you on but I just.. I just don't feel that way about you. I'm sorry." I stutter, trying to apologise again, fixing my gaze on his and pleading with him to understand. Deep down I knew I wasn't attracted to Dean like that long before I threw myself at him, I just wanted... no, I needed to do something to make myself feel better. Harry didn't seem to have any trouble moving on the moment I was gone, and I wanted to get back at him, in some small, childish way but all I've managed to do is make myself feel even worse. Good one Mads.

"Oh, I see." He replies solemnly and takes a seat back on his vacated bar stool, grabbing his half-empty whisky glass from the bar and draining the contents quickly. We sit for a moment in silence as I fight against the fog of alcohol still drifting through my head and try to think of something that I can say that will fix this, something to undo the hurt I've clearly caused him and explain my actions.

"Want another?" Dean says suddenly, interrupting my thoughts as he slams his empty glass down a little too forcefully on the grotty bar top.

"I think I've already had too many," I say quietly. "I really am sorry, I'm not normally like this," I mumble, and to my horror, I feel tears begin to prick the back of my eyes. No, no no this is neither the time nor the place to have a meltdown! I scold myself, but I already know it's too late.

"You really love him, huh?" Dean asks, turning his head slightly so that he can judge my reaction.

Wiping away a stray tear that has managed to escape my eye, I nod helplessly.