Primrose Thrills (Harry Styles mature)

Chapter 5

I took a sip of my wine as I glanced at my phone. It was 5pm on a sunny Saturday and I was back in my home-town of Colchester at my Auntie's house for some family get-together than everyone else seemed to think was a great idea. In reality, these things were just an excuse for everyone to get drunk and put off seeing one another for another six months. We weren't an overly big family- perhaps twenty altogether- so these things tended to put a strain on everyone's patience and sanity. Mine was no exception. There are only so many times you can explain what you do for a living and why you don't have a boyfriend without wanting to scream in somebody's face. I loved them dearly, but we were a completely dysfunctional group. Luckily for me, the tension was elsewhere as my mum's sister and my dad had fallen out spectacularly over lunch and they were refusing to speak to one another. They'd never really gotten on, so it was no surprise when a harmless conversation about cooking with fruit had turned sour and tempers had flared. We'd moved from the dining room to the living room soon after that, where I was subjected to the overly humiliating family game of charades, which had one of my cousins running around pretending to be a chicken and my uncle desperately trying to act out Bruno. In all fairness, that did have me laughing for a good five minutes. There's something so unconditionally entertaining about a grown man willingly embarrassing himself.

A bottle of champagne and six bottles of wine later, here we were; sat bleary-eyed in front of the TV watching some home-videos that my dad had brought along. And yes, those videos definitely included me running around naked in just a pair of red Wellington boots whilst singing Twinkle Twinkle at the top of my lungs. I'd seen the same video countless times and I wondered how it managed to make an appearance at each of these gatherings without fail. I pulled my phone from my pocket and began typing a message.

'Save me.'

Even though I'd seen Harry after work on Thursday, it felt like it had been much longer. He'd picked me up from mine at 7pm and we'd aimlessly driven around the quiet areas just outside of London, talking for hours until the moon was full and bright in the sky. When Harry dropped me back home, it was gone midnight and I had to be up in six hours for work but I didn't care. We must have kissed in the hallway of my flat for at least fifteen minutes before either of us even thought about stopping. If life was without responsibility, I would have kissed him until the sun had come up.

Five minutes later, my phone began to ring. I looked at the screen and was relieved to see Harry's name flashing across it.

"Excuse me a moment, work call!"
I dashed out of the room so quickly that I don't think anybody even noticed.
"Oh my God," I groaned, closing the door to the living room and hiding myself away in the dining room opposite.
Harry laughed on the other end. "How's it going?"
"Oh you know... My Nana just told my cousin that he's gotten fat and my mum's so drunk that she's upstairs having a lie-down. She's been up there since 4pm..."
"Sounds like my kind of family gathering," he laughed.
"This is why these get-togethers should be limited to just Christmas. Once a year is enough."
I took a deep breath and sat down on the dining room chair. "How're you anyway?"
"I'm good. We're just doing some photoshoot."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."
"No no, you didn't. They don't need me for another twenty minutes or so anyway."
I smiled to myself. "What's the shoot for?"
"Top of the Pops," Harry laughed.
"I'm expecting full-on naked shots then."
"Oh definitely."

The thought of Harry posing almost nude for the camera had my heart racing with erotic excitement. I already knew how well he photographed and was certain that he'd shoot just as well with his clothes off, especially if him sweating and coming above me was anything to go by. But I still couldn't manage to shake the twisting envy deep in the pit of my stomach at the thought of other people seeing him in that way. I wasn't a jealous person- I never had been- but the thought still got to me. Then again, I'd never felt this way about somebody before. It was a little irrational, although not entirely unreasonable. If he wasn't famous, his body would be mine and mine alone. Not mine and the rest of the world's.