Chapter 22

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended. Bex Oliver, her friends and the plot are mine. The concerts were real. This is mostly fiction. The words are mine. Please don't steal them. I'm breaking my own two ahead rule because Harry & Stevie made me do it. Enjoy.

Special Thank You to my Beta...besides working & home, she goes to school and edits for me. I Love You beyond measure! 💋

Here's...

Everything About You

Chapter 22

April 8th

Boston, MA

Late Evening

Slipping into bed, my body cringes at the feel of the cool sheets. Sleeping has become a struggle for me.

In the couple days since his call, I’ve woken with terrible nightmares. I start each night praying that I won’t have another one and wake screaming into my pillow. Hiding it as best I can from the girls and Harry, I try and act as normal as possible.  The strain is getting to me though. So much so, that I dread getting into bed. I snuck down last night and laid on the couch...until Emily got back from the pub. She ushered me upstairs while scolding me; thinking I was waiting up for her.

She’d had a rare day without appointments today and the two of us spent it shopping for my dad’s birthday. I almost fell asleep in the middle of the restaurant while waiting for my burger.

I send a goodnight text to Harry and another prayer to God for a night without a nightmare; I close my eyes.  

“Please lord...no more nightmares. No more nightmares...”

~</3~

Standing on the side of the stage, I watch as Niall does an irish jig. He laughs as Liam joins in.

Suddenly, I’m laying flat on my face; the foot of Jon’s keyboard inches from my head.

“I told you the last time, no one wants you here...”

I sit up gingerly, clutching my left arm and look in the direction of the dark, angry voice.

“You’d better stay away!” I yell. “I’m sure Jon has already called security.”  I look back toward the band. The music has stopped. It’s dead silent in the arena. The audience is stock still staring at me.

I can hear his footsteps; the thud of his boots on the floor. Cowering, I try to ball myself up protecting any part of my body he can damage.  My head jerks back when he grabs a handful of my hair.

“Won’t you ever listen, bitch? I told you you don’t belong here!” The lights glint off of something in his hand.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry...jesus...sor... stop...”

“What do you think you’re doing?  Leave her go!!” His voice is frantic. I can see him running towards us.

In an instant, I’m free.  

“Stop! He’s got a knife!” I scream but it’s too late.

“HARRY!!!” I scream out as I sit up.  Sweat has my t-shirt stuck to my skin. My scalp hurts; almost as if someone was actually trying to pull it out.

“Bex!?!?” Gray yells from the doorway.

“I’m alright,” I pant waving my hand at her to go away. “Go back to bed.”

Em appears next to her, “You’re not alright. The last few nights you’ve woken up screaming his name.”

“It’s fine. Just miss him,” I say wiping the tears from my cheeks.

“Missing him is one thing,” Gray says softly as she sits on the bed. She hands me a tissue, “screaming as if he’s being murdered is another. What happened?”

“It’s nothing. Just a bad dream. Nothing you should worry about.” I say patting her hand. “Go back to bed. You have to be in New York in a few hours. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I’m going to call Vik and ask her to prescribe a sleep aid for you,” Emily says heading to her room.  She returns a moment later, phone in hand.

“I don’t need a sedative,” I moan pulling my hair out of it’s bun. I rub my scalp a few times with the pads of my fingers.

“It’s not a sedative. It’s just a little something to help you sleep. You haven’t slept through the night since you got back,” she says as she continues to type out a text on her phone. “Don’t think we don’t know you’ve been up.”

Gray lifts the blankets on my bed and nudges my arm. I scoot over and she slips in. Then she slips right back out.

“Bloody hell. Everyone out!” She yanks the blankets right off the bed.

“What are you doing?” I ask her staring dumbfounded.

“These sheets are soaking wet. Either you’ve had a wee or you’re sweating bullets. I’m changing them.” When I don’t get out of the bed, she stands with her hands on her hips, glaring at me.

“Fine.” I scoot off the bed and stand shivering next to my nightstand.

“Shite,” Em says looking at me.

“What??”

“Rebekah...you’ve peed yourself.”

I look down and sure enough, my underwear is soaked. It’s not just sweat.

“Come on. Let’s get you in the shower while Gray changes the linens,” she says quietly pushing me toward the bathroom.  She stops short and pulls out another t-shirt and panties from my dresser.

“Nothing to worry about, Love. I’ll have this changed and all set when you get out,” Gray smiles halfheartedly.

I strip out of my wet clothing, not caring that Em’s in the room. She checks the water in the shower before guiding me gently under it and closes the door. I hear the toilet seat clank. I can see her dark shape as she sits down.

“Time to be honest, B. What’s going on?”

“Just a few bad dreams,” I answer before ducking my head under the stream.

“They’re full on. Adults don’t usually wet themselves over a bad dream. What happens in them?” She’s using the super calm doctor voice. For some reason, it doesn’t irk me so much tonight.

“I’m at a concert. He’s yelling at me and...”

“Mateo?”

“Mm hm,” I admit placing my hand on the wall of the shower.

“He hurts Harry?”

“Yeah,” I sigh softly.

She doesn’t say anything more while I wash up. When I step out, she hands me a towel for my hair and one for my body.  I wrap my hair and dry off. She helps me slip the soft cotton tee over my head. Wrapping her arm around me, she whispers, “He can’t hurt you if he can’t get to you. I won’t let him.”

“Thanks,” I whisper back. When we enter the bedroom, the bed is freshly made. Gray stands next to it, my cell in her hand.

“Just making sure you don’t have your alarm set. I’ve got some tea started with an old remedy from my Nan. It should help you sleep tonight.”

“Okay,” I say as she pulls the covers back.  Emily hands me the remote to my television.

“We’ll be back. Find something to watch,” Gray says squeezing my shoulder.

I comb out my hair and braid it quickly. They return a few minutes later and slip in on either side of me. Em giggles in pleasure when she sees I’ve found “The Powerpuff Girls”.

“Mojo jojo,” she imitates as she gets comfortable. The irish accent and gruff voice makes me laugh. We watch the entire episode, snickering here and there until Doc’s phone chirps. She glances at it and then Gray and nods.

“What’s up?” I ask taking a final sip of the tea. Gray must think I’ve never heard of chamomile before.

“Not a thing so. It was Victoria. I’ll pick up the prescription after work tomorrow. Just something light. Nothing that will knock you out,” Em says taking the empty cup from me.

“Alright,” I say scooting down the middle of the bed. I focus on the three cartoon little girls until my eyes become too heavy to stay open.

~</3~

10:12 AM

April 9

I stir at the sunlight creeping through the blinds. The chamomile worked its magic giving me some rest. I need more though. My head is foggy; my bones exhausted. I listen for any sign that my friends are still home. Not hearing a thing but Mr. Jones’ yorkshire terrier barking at the wind outside, I slip under the covers and hide away.

My phone chirps on the bedside table, but I don’t check it. Whoever it is can wait. I’m in no shape to talk to anyone. Well...there’s just one person I want to talk to.  I debate on whether or not to text him. It’s just after eight a.m. there. He could be sleeping. He could be working out. He could be with her.  Deciding the last thought is not a place I need to go to, I stay battened down under my down-alternative hatches.

I pick up the bottle of Tom Ford and smile. Emily gives me a look of a amusement over the counter.

“Think that might be a little too laddy for you, B...”

“I’m not gonna wear it,” I giggle. “Just reminds me of him.”

I spray the mist into the air and close my eyes, “Dimples.”

The smell stays with me the rest of the day. It’s strong. Almost as if he’s right there with me.

“It’s okay,Tog. I’m right here...” His voice is off in the distance.

I look around the parking garage for him.

“What are you doing?” Em asks over the roof of the car.

“I swear to you...I heard him.”

“Heard who?”

The voice calls out again, “Shhh...it’s okay.”

I turn and lean on the car door.  I swear it was closer, “Do you not hear that? I swear I heard Harry saying it’s okay.”

“Can’t say I did.”

Sighing, I turn back and hit the unlock button on my key fob, “Wishful thinking...Let’s go home. Gray will be upset if we’re late for dinner.”

“Best not keep the lad waiting...” Emily smiles at me.

The comforter has become heavy on my torso. It’s unbearably warm too. I try to move my arms but it’s as if they are weighed down. I can feel the panic start to build in my chest. The anxiety I felt for months, after that night with Mateo, comes flooding back. I gulp for air; my lungs don’t want to cooperate.  Scrunching my eyes tight, I try to recall what Emily taught me after the first one.

Breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth.

Breath in...

Breath out...

Breath in...

Breath out...

I do this a few more times until my nervous system starts to settle. Once I feel calm enough, I try to move my arms again. There’s something blocking them physically. The panic wants to seep back in. I take another deep inhale through my nose.  Tom Ford.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I cry softly. “God, please...stop torturing me.”

The weight shifts slowly and it feels like a hand runs along the side of my head.

“Shhh...it’s okay.”

I have to be losing my mind. I can smell him. I can hear him. With the weight lifted from my arms, I raise my hands, wiping the tears from my face.

“I’d rather be in a tank in the desert than this torture, God.”

“Dodging IED’s ...cheers, love,” his deep raspy voice says next to me.

I pull my hands from my face. A pair of green eyes greet me.

“Harry?” I say bolting straight up in the bed.

“Yeah, Tog?” He smiles as he leans the side of his head on his hand.

I poke his chest; my finger is met with a pleasing resistance. I lean in taking a whiff of the air around him. Reaching with my left hand, I poke the thigh bent toward me.

“Fooking hell...that hurts, love!” He lightly slaps my prodding finger away. “You can’t just go poking someone...” His hand rubs gingerly over the top of his leg.

“You’re here?” My voice raises slightly.

“Yes, Tog. I’m here.” He smiles. Dimples deep as the grand canyon.

“But how? Why?”

“Just had a feeling,” he says lifting his hand and tucking some of my hair behind my ear. I launch myself at him, burying my face in his neck. When I try to get as close as possible, he growls. “Tog...watch the thigh.”

Immediately, my nightmare from last night comes to mind. I sit back up and reach for his leg, “Why? What’s happened to your thigh? Are you hurt? Has someone hurt you?” My voice shakes.

“It’s fine.”

“No!  Have you seen a doctor? What if it’s serious?” I slip out from under the covers and push him onto his back. “Take down your pants.”

“Wot!!?!?? Tog...it’s fine.” His eyes show amusement. “I don’t need to take down my jeans.”

“Come on! I’ve had some medical training. Let me see,” I reach for the waistband of his jeans.

He grabs both my hands in his right, “While I’d love to play doctor with you, love...it’s not necessary.”

“Harry...what’s wrong with your leg?” I huff at him.

“I just had some new ink done. It’s all good. Just a little tender.” He smiles sitting up.

“You got a new tattoo?” I ask flatly. “Blessed nightmares.” I flip onto my butt and place my feet on the floor. A heavy sigh comes out as I run my hands through my hair. I stand up; my legs shake a bit.

“Why would someone hurt me? What’s going on, Rebekah?” I can hear him slide across the material of my comforter. Two strong arms wrap themselves around my waist. “You’re shaking.”

“Just been having trouble sleeping.” I lean against his chest and breathe a sigh of relief. “You said you had a feeling? What did you mean by that?”

“There was a disturbance in the force,” he quips low in my ear. Humor to cut the tension.

“You’re such a jerk!” I laugh pushing his arms away from my body. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“Can we think about some food when you’re done? I’m a growing boy! My mum won’t take too kindly to you starving me to death...”

I can’t lie to myself. Having Harry here makes me feel a lot better. The idea that he “had a feeling” doesn’t sound right to me, but maybe he did. Did we have that kind of connection? He always seemed to know when to call me or when to show up.  The more feasible answer was that Em took it upon herself to contact him. I couldn’t be too angry with her, although she did take him away from album prep.

Maybe if I was a little stronger...she wouldn’t have had to call in reinforcements.

When I step into the bedroom, the hungry boybander is gone. Pulling out some clothes from my dresser, I hear a crash downstairs. Trying to run while pulling my yoga pants on trips me up at the top of the stairs, I call down gripping the banister, “H? Everything alright down there?”

He growls.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, everything is bloody perfect.”  It doesn’t sound so perfect.

I finish pulling up the pants before heading down. When I step into the kitchen, he’s sweeping up what looks to be the remnants of his cell phone.

“Is that your phone?” I ask leaning on the door frame.

“It’s...um...it’s actually yours...”

“What??? What the hell, Harry?” I say rushing in and picking up a piece of the iphone.

“I’ll get you a new one.” He says as he bends down with the dustpan.

“What did you do to it?  It looks like you ran it over with a mack truck?!?!?”

His cheeks are flushed red, “It was on the floor and I stepped on it.”

“It was on the floor?”

“Um...yeah.”

“Harry?”

“Tog.”

“You didn’t step on my phone. You would have probably broken the case and maybe the screen...” I cross my arms across my chest. “This is decimated...like it’s been chucked at the wall and then stomped on.” I look around the kitchen and sure enough, there’s a hole in the drywall. “Why did you throw my phone at the wall?” I ask pointing at it.

When I take a good look at him, I can see his right hand is clenching the broom handle. His jaw is wound so hard, the veins in his neck are protruding. He stares at the mess on the floor.  I step forward slowly and remove the dustpan from his hand. Stepping in front of him, I wrap my right arm around him and unclench his fingers from the broom. Once the broom clatters to the floor, I lift his chin with my hand.

“Harry? Why are you so angry?” He squeezes his eyes shut tightly.

“Harry? Talk to me,” I whisper as I gently run my hand along the side of his face.

Sighing, he looks down at his feet, “Does he text you often?”

I bend a little at the knees to get in his line of vision, “Who? Does who text me often?”

“Him...Mateo...Has he been texting you this whole time?”

“No...why would you ask...” I stop and look down at the remnants of my phone. “What did he say?”  Harry pushes away from me and leans on the island.  “Harry Styles...tell me what he said!” I slam my fist on the counter in anger.

“Did you know he had photos of uhz in Cape Town?” His tone is cool and detached.

“No...”

“He sent you a few. There’s one of uhz in the rain,” his voice doesn’t waver from the detached tone.

“H...”

“I just want to know how he got them, Rebekah. Tell me how he GOT THEM!” This is Angry Harry. I thought I’d seen it before. Nothing, and I mean nothing, prepared me for this.

His face holds none of the softness it usually does when he looks at me. His eyes glare at me as if this was my fault. His lips are snarled, his pristine white teeth clenched. The crease between his brows deeper than I had ever seen it, causing them to jut lower on his eyes. In all honesty, it reminds me of Mateo. I’ve seen a similar look of anger on his face too many times to count. Last night’s nightmare being the last.

A red hot heat burns in my stomach. My body’s way of telling me not to cower in fear, but to finally give as good as I am getting.

“I don’t FUCKING KNOW! I hadn’t heard from or seen him until the pub. If you’re looking to blame me for this, you can GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE! I won’t let you scream at me like this, Harry. You destroyed my phone and now you’re yelling at me?!?! Because someone took pictures of us at a fucking hotel? News flash, asshole!  You’re famous! Maybe one of your little followers put them out there.”  

He stood at his full height and walked toward me. My body went on alert, wanting to cower away. I forced myself to stand my ground and looked him straight in the eyes.

“Besides the fact that you destroyed my phone, you invaded my goddamn privacy!” When he stops mere inches from me, I raise my hand and poke him in the chest punctuating every word, “You. Don’t. Get. To. Blame. This. On. Me!”

He stares down at me, “He’s going to the press.”

“What the hell do you want me to do?” I ask gritting my teeth; maintaining my ground. “Why don’t you call your legal team since you ‘know the best solicitors in the world’? Am I happy that he has photos of us? NO. Am I looking forward to the bullshit that will be thrown at me? NO. I don’t know what you want me to do about it.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you will,” I spit at him with a glare before walking away. When my foot falls on the second step of the stairs, glass shatters in the kitchen. “Quit breaking my shit!”

~</3~

An hour later, the focus on my laptop is broken by a gentle tapping on my door.

“Yeah?”

“May I come in?” His voice is calmer.

Sighing, I place the macbook on the window seat.  His head is down as I open the door. Not saying a word, I leave it open. I plop onto my bed, crossing my legs indian style. I find the frayed hem of my pants leg and fiddle with it.

“Can I sit?” He asks pointing at the bed. His thick silver ring bearing the word ‘peace’ glints in the early afternoon sun.

“Sure.”

“Rebekah...” he sighs. He plays with the rings on his left hand; pulling the turquoise one up and down his finger. “I’m sorry I got so angry with you.”

“Okay,” I nod.

“I know...I know it’s not your fault. And I can’t say sorry enough for breaking your trust. I already have a new phone being sent over.”

“If it was just a photo...why did you smash the phone?”

“He said some pretty...nasty things before sending that picture. I...” he growls. “I want to find him and shove the phone down his throat.”

“That won’t solve anything,” I comment as I lean against my headboard. “Besides, I’m used to the nasty things he says,” I admit softly.

“I hate hearing that,” he shakes his head. “I also spoke to management and our attorney. They’re going to send a cease and desist letter to him,” he says nonchalantly.

“Okay...and for what it’s worth...I hate admitting to you that the vile things he says are normal to me.”

He sits further back on the bed closer to my feet, mimicking my indian style. He reaches over and finds the same string I was playing with earlier. I watch silently as he twirls it around his finger. His pinky brushes against the skin of my ankle a few times. I just want him to hold me. I look up to the ceiling; heading off any tears that want to spring free.

“C’mere,” he says leaning forward and grabbing my hips. He pulls me down the bed before uncrossing my legs. Wrapping them around his waist, he pulls me tight against him; both arms hugging me close. “I’m proud of you.”

As I wrap my own under his arms and latch on to his shoulders, I lay my head down and ask, “What for?”

“For telling me off. You stood your ground. You never cowared.”

Pulling back, I look at him, “I know you were upset...but you can’t yell at me like that. I will not put up with it. I deserve better.”

The realization of what just came out of my mouth shocks me. I gasp a little. He smiles at me. Full on dimples. His eyes beam; a delighted open mouth smirk.

“You do deserve better. I promise to be your ‘better’.”

I nod in acceptance; a smile playing at my lips.

“You’re having nightmares?”

My brow furrows as I look at him, “Mm hmm.”

“When did they start?” He brushes his knuckles along the side of my face.

“Monday...”

“What happened monday? Besides the argument with your mum?”

“Mateo called.”

“Mmm,” he says nodding at me like he already knows this.

“Why did you come here?” I ask running my thumb against the small patch of blond stubble under his bottom lip.

“You needed me.” He lays his forehead against mine.

“Emily?”

“No...Grace actually. She used your phone. Scared the hell out of me at one a.m. I called Jeff and asked if I could take the jet.”

“Harry...” I sigh dropping my head. His lips replace his forehead. I raise my hand, laying my palm against side of his face.

“Any time you’re needing me,” he sings softly and places a kiss to my skin.

“I wanted to talk to you...but I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You should have,” he says running his hand up my back and into my hair.  “I’m always just a call away.”

“Are you still hungry?” I ask closing my eyes at the feel of his lips against my skin. I missed it.

“I could eat.”

“C’mon,” I pull away, taking his hand when my feet hit the floor.

We spend the next hour catching up. He tells me more about his conversation with her. She wasn’t happy they wouldn’t be continuing their little arrangement, but knowing that he was happy convinced her it was for the best. She wants to meet me when I come to LA. We talk about schedules and the fact that I’m pretty open until my trip with the girls to the UK. He seems happy to hear that I’ll be going there.  Jeff, his friend, wants to meet me too. Apparently, they’ve discussed going on a double date. The idea of meeting his friends makes me nervous.

We clear up the dishes and decide to watch a movie. All that is pushed aside when he finds out that Gray pays a hefty amount of money for us to have a block of british television channels. He insists on The Great British Bake-off marathon. I smile and shake my head while he does a running commentary on what the contestants are doing wrong.  I catch him yawning here and there.

“H...why don’t you go up and rest. The girls will be home soon. Maybe we can convince Grace to make you a proper roast dinner?” I coax running my fingers through his hair. It seems longer than it did just a few days ago.

“Nah, just want to stay right here with you,” he says between yawns.

“Then how about we stretch out and you can nap here with me?”

Without saying a word, he reaches behind me pulling my throw down.  He pushes me back gently on the pillow of the couch. Pushing my legs apart, he hands me the blanket, wraps his arms around my back and lays his head on my chest. I chuckle while laying the blanket over us.

“This is nice,” he sighs.

“For once, I’m holding you.”

“Shhh...let me enjoy it,” he says poking me in the side. He cuddles in. Deciding he’s not as comfortable as he’d like, he runs his hands up my back and grips my shoulders lightly. He lets out a deep sigh.

When I feel his breathing regulate to a steady, deep pattern, I start looking for something else to watch.  

~</3~

“Oh fooking hell,” my roomate tries to whisper across the room. “Is that?  Is that Harry Styles laying on our couch?”

“Shhh...you’ll wake him!” I whisper yell back.

Gray tiptoes as best she can in her heeled boots toward me. I cross my arms, leaning on the threshold of the living room and kitchen. He is pretty amazing laying there, snoring lightly.

“Jesus...he’s more fit in person,” she says wrapping her arms around me. She lays her head on my shoulder and stares with me.

“I know,” I nod.

“How long has he been here?” She smiles at me.

“Thanks to your sneaky ass,” I turn and give her a look. “Since about ten or so this morning.”

“I’m sorry. I just thought he should know you were having trouble. I honestly didn’t think he’d come,” she whispers following me into the kitchen.

“That’s the one thing you’ll learn about him...he always comes. It’s weird.”

“Weird?” My friend asks as she pulls out everything she needs for a cup of tea.

“He seems to always know when to call or when I just need him to physically be there...I’m not used to a man wanting to comfort me.”

“This is how you’re supposed to be treated, Bex. If a man truly cares, he’ll do anything for you,” she shakes her head as she pours hot water into the cup. She nods her head toward the living room, “And that young man is very smitten.”

Ignoring her smitten comment, “Do we have anything to make a proper dinner for him?”

“I think I may have a roast of some sort. I can make some yorkshires,” she smiles turning toward the refrigerator. “Ah, we have a decent sized pork roast. I can make that and some mash. What kind of vegetable?”

“If one more asshole cut me off on the highway!!” Emily yells as she comes through the door to the garage.

“SHHHH!” Gray and I hush in unison.

“What’s the craic? Why are ye shushing me?” She steps in kicking off her heels. “It’s my home too, ya know.”

She huffs past us through the kitchen.  Seeing the guest on the couch, she turns with wide eyes back to us.

“Is that...there’s a pop star on our couch...he’s snorin’!!!”  

“Emily! Be quiet!” I whisper yell.

She pads over to the couch and stares at him, “He fookin’ snores.”

“He won’t be for long. Leave him be. Come on...come help with dinner,” I continue to whisper as I pull her back to the kitchen. “Gray has agreed to make him a roast dinner. I don’t think he’s had good home cooking in a while.”

The three of us get busy preparing a meal fit for even my father to eat. Both Gray and Em casually peer into the living room to see if he’s woken up.

“Go on then,” Gray says nudging me toward the doorway. “Supper will be ready soon. Go wake your boy.”

“Yeah...go wake him up.” Emily grins with mischief in her eyes.

I shake my head.  I sit gently on the side of the couch and stare at him for a moment. He looks at peace.

Leaning toward him, I lay my palm against his cheek, “Harry?  H...you need to wake up. Supper is almost ready.” The snoring stops as he moves to get comfortable. I run my thumb against his lips before leaning closer.

“Dimples...it’s time to wake up,” I whisper against his lips. His left eyebrow raises slightly and he pouts. I place a small gentle kiss to his mouth and whisper again, “Harry. Wake up please.”

He inhales heavily through his nose; his eyes fluttering open a bit. “Tog?”

“Hi,” I say before placing a little longer of a kiss to his lips.

His left hand moves slowly up and into my hair, holding my lips to his. I pull back and giggle.

“Hi.” He croaks.

“Good nap?”

“How come you’re not under me anymore?” He pouts.

“I couldn’t sleep. Listen...” I say looking over my shoulder quickly. “The girls are home. Apparently, they’ve never had the good fortune of a popstar sleeping on their couch before.”

“Is that right?” He smiles and sneaks a glance around me. He smirks. “Just caught ‘em lookin’ over.”

“We’ve made supper. Do you want to freshen up?”

He inhales deeply and smiles, “Smells amazing. Yeah, where can I do that?” He sits up, runs his hand through his hair and waves shyly at the girls

“Come on. You can use my bathroom,” I say folding the blanket. He stands and stretches a little. The laurel leaves on his abdomen peak out from under the stripped shirt he’s wearing. I shake my head when Gray lets out an audible gasp. When I look up at him, he’s smiling at me.

He knew full well why she gasped. “Quit teasing her.”

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, love.”

Ten minutes and a peek at his thigh later, we’re seated at the kitchen table. I roll my eyes as Emily serves him a plate of pork roast, mashed potatoes, sweet corn and yorkshire pudding.

“Thank you so much. Looks incredible,” he says placing his napkin on his leg.

Grace blushes, “You’re welcome.” She sits down to my left and hands me my plate.

“Um...why are these covered in gravy?” I ask poking at the yorkshire. I look to Harry.

“You can eat them sweet or savory, Tog,” he answers breaking off a piece. “Mm. Good,” he mumbles around it. Gray blushes into her mashed potatoes.

“Oh,” I say poking the gravy laden pastry.

“So, what’s the craic, Dimples?” Em asks before taking a sip of white wine.

“The craic is lacking. Just working on the album. Yerself?” He answers her in an irish accent.  She laughs and turns a little red.  His cell goes off, but he ignores it.  When it goes off a few more times, he pulls it from the pocket of his shorts and places it on the counter behind him.

“Speaking of cell phones,” I side-eye him. “You won’t be able to call my cell.”

“What happened to your phone?” Gray asks looking between the two of us.

“It met with an unfortunate accident.” It’s Harry’s turn to blush.

“I’m getting a replacement...so I’ll be unavailable unless I’m home.” I continue eating without elaborating further. When I look up, Harry and Emily are having some kind of silent conversation.

A quick rap on the front door and then a soft sweet voice makes us all go wide eyed.

“Hey? Anyone home?” The door shuts just as quickly as it opened. Emily stands to intercept our visitor.  The click clack of heels on the hardwood floor grows louder. Gray stands too and the two girls run into each other in their haste.

“There you are...found this package on the front stoop. You forgot to pick up the prescription, Em...Is that Harry Styles?” Vik is calm but I can see the wild behind her eyes.

“Hello,” he waves and returns to eating. As always, tongue first.

I watch as her eyes get wider. This is excited Vik. It’s a hoot to watch.

Victoria Duerre is our friend and a co-worker of Emily’s. Despite her driver’s license stating she’s  twenty-six, she doesn’t look much older than a teen.  On the nights she goes out with us, we call her the fourth musketeer. She would be Athos... minus the drinking problem. In fact, she is usually the one to reign us in along with Gray. She’s soft spoken, but not shy. She is incredibly generous. She won’t hesitate to tell you that you’re being stupid. She’s the “Lady” of the group.

“H? This is Victoria or Vik or sometimes, V...She’s a reaw laydee,” I say in my best Ginger Spice imitation. “Victoria...Harry.”

Our usually staid friend drops the package she was holding on the floor and nearly breaks a heel getting to the table, “That’s...that’s really Harry Styles? He’s eating...food...at your table.” She gets in really close to his face. His eyes go wide as he pulls back.

“Hello.” He’s unsure. I rub his back a few times.

“Why are you here?” She cocks her head at him as she lays her handbag next to his plate. She picks up Emily’s wine glass and takes a sip; still waiting for him to answer.

“Bloody hell, Vik. Let the man eat. He’s a friend of Bex’s,” Gray says taking the glass and pulling her from the table. She snaps her fingers a few times in V’s face to get her attention. “Hi, Love. What can we do for you?”  

I laugh watching Gray bring Vik back to reality.  We’ve seen this only a few times and I love every second of it.

“Hm? Oh, yes...I brought over Bex’s sleeping pills. Emily picked them up but left them on her desk. There was a box...wait...where did it go?” She says softly looking at the table. She slowly walks over to Harry again and leans down. She looks at him with doe eyes as she stands. “This was on the front porch.”  

Instead of handing it to one of us, her hand offers it to him.

“Uhm...Thanks,” he says taking it without touching her. He hands it to me, watching her as if she’s going to jump him.

I look at the box. It’s addressed to an Oliver Greenberg. “Must be the wrong address. I don’t know an Oliver Greenberg.” Harry’s head snaps towards me. “What?!?!”

“That’s the phone.”

“Oliver Greenberg?” I ask confused.

Vik continues to stand stock still in front of Harry.

“Hello.” He smiles closed lipped at her. Then, he turns, rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulders at me. “I think she’s lost the plot,” he whispers.

“Right...I must be going.” She abruptly turns, grabbing up her handbag. “We’ll talk tomorrow, Rebekah?”

I shake my head a few times towards Harry as if to say, “Uh...he’s here.”

“Or...maybe not. Call me when you get a moment. I think we might have a few things to discuss about this...sleeping issue. Good evening, H...er...Harry....er...” She says walking backwards through to the living room. She waves a few times awkwardly.

Emily comes up behind and smiles, “Let’s all go to the pub!”

“I’d love to go to the pub,” H smiles and looks at me. “Can we go to the pub, Tog?”

“Well, it might be the safest place for you to have a drink. It’s filled with old men and irish soccer fans.”

“Football...” Em cuts in.

“Sorry, Em. Football fans.”

“Would you like to go with us, Victoria?” Harry asks being ever the gentleman.

“Oh...I...well...I don’t....” she stammers in shock. Gray pinches her arm. “Yes, I’d love to. It’s a date.”

“No...Vik...it’s not,” I admonish her as Harry takes my hand.

“Right...yeah...of course...I mean...”

“Well, that’s settled. Let’s finish eating and get ready for the pub,” Gray says moving her plate over. Emily adds a chair to the table. I pour a small glass of wine for Vik. Harry surprises us all by standing.

“Where’s the dinner plates, Tog?” He takes one from the cabinet I point to and begins adding food to it. He returns with a fork and knife, setting it in front of her. “Cheers.”

“Oh...um...Thank you,” she says surprised as he sits down and places his napkin on his leg again.

~</3~

After a glass of wine, Vik calmed significantly. She was her usual charming self by the time we left for the pub.  Emily, Harry and I drove together while Gray rode with Vik. The look on Harry’s face when we pull up to Delaney’s is priceless. Eyes as big as saucers, a small smile playing on his lips. He looks like a kid seeing a pair of breasts for the first time.

I take his hand pulling him gently through the door.

“Well there’s the troublemakers!” Uncle Mick calls from behind the bar.  He finishes pouring Tim Tanahan’s beer and taps the counter. “Keep ye eyes off me niece,” he tells him as he makes his way around the bar. “And you’ve brought a boy with ye,” he says eyeing Harry.

“Harry Styles.” He says releasing my hand.

“Oh...ye brought a singer to the pub,” Mick smiles at me. “You mess with my Bex and I’ll make sure you’re vocal cords are done.”

“UNCLE MICK!” I admonish him. “Harry is a gentleman.”

“Just sayin’ me peace,” the burly, white haired man says pulling on the towel across his shoulder. “Now...what are we drinking tonight?”

“Tequila, ice and a lime, please?” Harry asks pulling out chairs for Doc, Gray, Vik and then me. I can see the small smirk on Uncle Mick’s face. “Ladies?”

“Two beers,” Doc says to her uncle.

“I’ll have one too,” I say laying my coat across the back of the chair.

“No whiskey, Tog?” H smirks at me.

“No. No whiskey for these lasses. They get into too much trouble.”

“I’ll take a jack and coke, Mick,” Vik says quietly as she watches Harry scoot closer to me.

“Comin’ right up.”

Harry takes in the bar. He looks skeptically at Tim sitting at the bar. I feel a sharp toe to the shin under the table. I know it’s Vik’s Louboutin heel. I give her a “What?” look.  She nods towards my companion.  

“Harry? Why don’t I give you a tour? Uncle Mick prides himself on all the football players who’ve come in,” Emily says smiling.

“Really?  Yeah, I’d love it,” Harry says smiling at her. “I’ll be back.” He squeezes my hand gently.

“Okay.”

Emily stands and winks at me.

Once they’re both out of earshot, Vik leans towards me, “How in the world did you get Harry Styles of One Direction to come to your house?”

“We’re...um...we’re friends,” I blush.

“Friends...mm hmm...” Vik isn’t believing it.

“Besides us,  you know you can trust Vik,” Grace prods me.

Uncle Mick appears with three of the drinks. I take a sip of the house beer and wipe my mouth.

“I worked with their archiver last week on the tour.”

“You were on tour with One Direction...” she looks at me dumbfounded.

“Just for a few shows. We got to talking and we hit it off,” I take another sip of beer.

“Hit it off...”

“What?”

“You do realise how many woman would love to ‘hit it off’ with him, right?” Vik asks. She sits back in the chair and takes a swig of her drink.

“Yeah.” I nod picking at a dent in the wood on the table.

“God...you’re terrible at this!  Have you slept with him?”

“For gods sake, Vik. No!” I answer making sure he can’t hear us.

“Why on earth not? Lord...” She says eyeing him up across the room.

“Hey!” I say nudging her with my foot.

“He’s gorgeous. Why aren’t you sleeping with him?”

I swirl the beer around in my glass; not wanting to answer her question.

“It’s Mateo, right?” She touches my arm softly. “I’m sure Em has given you advice. I’m gonna add my two cents. Give him a chance. You’re both young. You have incredible jobs traveling the world. This could be the one guy who gets it, ya know?”

“We’ve told her that,” Gray chimes in and smirks.

“I mean there is the whole ‘Lothario’ media thing...but...” Vik adds shrugging her shoulders.

“He’s not like that. The media doesn’t know what they’re talking about. It’s just a bunch of speculation. They only report what they see in pictures,” I groan.

“Hey!  We do not! And remember...you take pictures for a living!” Gray scowls.

“I’m not talking about the news, Gray. I’m talking about the gossip magazines and shows. He’s really a great guy.” I watch as Em hands Harry a few darts. She looks over and waves.

“I’m going to go see if they need a third,” Gray stands and pushes her chair in.

“Okay...now...do you want to talk about why you’re not sleeping?” Vik asks leaning on the table.

“Let’s just have fun, yeah? I really want you girls to form your own opinion of Harry, not based on what you’ve seen or heard on tv,” I smile at her. “It’s important to me that you girls like him.”

“Okay. He’s been lovely so far,” she smiles back. “And he’s not bad to look at either.”

Vik and I chat about the tour while we watch Grace beat Em and Harry several times. The three seem to get along well; laughing and joking around with each other. Vik informs me she’s bored with the music in the pub.  She pulls coins out of her purse and stomps over to the ancient machine. A moment later, Elvis Presley begins to play.  Several of Mick’s regular patrons groan.

Gus, an old tile setter from Ireland, looks to me and shakes his head, “What happened to my music? Are ye goin’ to be playin’ that garbage all night?”

“Sorry, Gus!” I shrug my shoulders at him. He sighs and returns to his beer.

Harry walks over and pulls the chair out next to him. He motions for Mick to bring both of them a drink. Dumbfounded, I watch as he calms the old man down and shares a drink with him. Harry finishes his, pats Gus on the back and makes sure that Mick knows he’s picking up the man’s tab before returning to the dart board.

“He’s unbelievable,” Vik mutters around the rim of her glass.

“Tell me about it...”

Author Note: I hope you enjoyed this one. If you are reading, follow or drop me a comment. I don't bite. Sometimes, I wonder if anyone is reading this. I know a few are...

You can follow the blog and get notifs when I've posted a chapter. You can follow me on twitter @ladyhstyles1...and if you really know me...you can find me on that other page. Until next time...

All The Love, ~ Lady H.