A Dreamers Dream

Heartache and happiness. Los Angeles, California, USA.

Maddie's perspective.

As I slowly peel my eyes open against the harsh LA sunshine, it takes me a good five minutes to fully convince myself that yesterday actually happened, that I didn't just dream Harry turning up on my doorstep in his crisp white suit and whisking me off for lunch at one of the most prestigious restaurants in Malibu to feed me raw fish and watch me tip caviar all over myself. It's his suit jacket hanging over the back of the white plastic chair by the small dressing table in my room that finally convinces me. I may have an overactive imagination, and I may have dreamed some funky shit in the past, but even I can't hallucinate a jacket out of thin air... Can I?

Pushing myself upright I swing my legs over the side of my bed and clamber onto my feet, raising my arms up above my head and stretching until I feel my shoulders pop before taking the four small steps over to the chair and reaching out a hand tentatively towards the jacket. As the fabric brushes lightly against my fingers a rush of memories flashed past my eyes, like one of those corny montages they put in romantic movies to remind the viewers how the lead character got to this point in the story, I vividly remember the brush of Harry's hand as it lingered briefly on my neck when he placed his jacket over my bare shoulders, I can almost smell the ocean and hear the waves crashing against the shore below the balcony of the restaurant and the pleasant murmured chatter of the other patrons and staff going about their days. I can picture his face so perfectly before me that I can count all the different shades of green in his bright eyes, and it feels like I could reach out and touch him if I wanted to.

Without thinking, I pick up the soft, supple material and lift it up towards my face, smelling the scent of aftershave and the faint aroma that is just simply Harry and inhaling it deeply. I feel the crinkle of an envelope in the pocket, and my heart lurches as I remember the other item I came home with. The ticket.

What am I going to do? I wonder as I carefully drape the jacket back over the chair and take a small step backwards almost tripping over my own feet in the process as I try and get a little bit of distance from it. Do I want to go through all that again? Put myself back out there and give him my entire heart and just hope and pray that he doesn't break it? God knows I still have feelings for him, of course, I do, but is that enough? Do I want to be in a relationship with someone so very high profile when I am just about to release my very first record? What will his fans say? Will they all boycott my music out of hatred and jealousy? Would they be supportive and make me wonder if I'd really done well or if I was just benefiting from Harry's fame? What if we fuck up again? If we can't figure out how to communicate with one and other and then have to go through some horrible high-profile breakup? What if I'm just no good at relationships and Harry would be better off if we make a clean break now, go our own separate ways? So that he can find someone who really deserves him?

Not for the first time in the last few weeks, I wish that Sammy and I were still speaking. I really could use her straight forward, no bullshit advice about now. Looking back with a clear head, I wish I had told her about Harry and me sooner. I wish I'd not been so paranoid and trusted that she would keep our secret. If I had had her by my side, maybe I wouldn't have completely misunderstood the conversation that I heard between Harry and Kacey. Maybe she would have slapped some sense into me – metaphorically of course, although maybe a real slap would have been useful too - before I charged off and argued with Harry about it. Maybe things would have turned out differently. Shaking my head slowly, I try and bring myself back to the present.

The past is the past. There's nothing that I can do to change any of it now. Now all that's left is for me to move forward and to decide who I want to take with me into the next stage of my life.

I take an absurdly long time in the shower, carefully shaving my legs and scrubbing every inch of my skin until it's baby smooth and almost shining. I think I may have ended up conditioning my hair twice, as for the life of me I couldn't remember whether I'd done it already when my mind started to wander again and figured it was better to be safe than sorry. Afterwards, I pull on my favourite, comfiest shorts and a T-shirt and make my way to the little deli down the street to get some lunch before settling down in front of the TV and trying to lose myself in the drama's happening in Litchfield prison in Orange Is the New Black, telling myself that as many mistakes as I've made, and as utterly stupid and disastrous as some of them were, at least none of them were illegal.