Build-A-Boyfriend

18

Dad coughs uncomfortably from the lingering traces of heavy incense as he scans the boys on the sofa opposite him.

My eyes nervously trail along them, trying to imagine how it looks to my Dad.

On one arm Harry is sitting, leaning forward eagerly, still shirtless, beaming at Dad like he's an old friend. Next to him Robert is pouting at the floor and refusing to look up. Niall is bare chested and cross legged, taking up most of the space. He has his eyes closed and is humming under his breath. Finally, Louis, in his bright pink medieval clothing is eyeing up Dad as if considering if he should duel him.

Dad stares at them then back at me.

"You've joined a cult, haven't you Hendrix?"

"What? No!" I roll my eyes. "These are just Harry's friends, they were only meditating, Dad."

Dad looks at me as if I have just told him that they were only sacrificing babies to the sun god.

"Meditating..." Dad mutters.

"You should try it, man." Niall says suddenly. "I'm sensing a hugeee blockage around your sacral chakra." He gestures to his own abdomen. "A major blockage, dude. A lack of sex often causes a blockage there. Do you need to get laid, my man?"

There haven't been many times in my life that I have been unable to speak, but this moment- this one where a shirtless hippy is asking my Dad in concern if he's getting enough sex- is one of them.

Harry glances at my face and realises immediately that Niall has said completely the wrong thing. I can practically see him thinking.

"It's ok." He says suddenly to my Dad. He gives a reassuring smile. "I've never had sex either."

Dad scowls at him; obviously thinking he's taking the piss.

"Sex. That honeyed trap by which women ensnare our souls." Louis sighs suddenly. "Those who claim women to be the weaker sex have never felt the power of one in throes of passion-"

"More coffee, Dad?"

He gestures his head to the door and I follow him nervously into the hallway.

"Hendrix." He grabs my arm gently as soon as we are alone. "I'm your Dad, you can tell me anything. What's going on here? It's it that 'swimming' stuff that's in the newspapers-"

"I'm not into swinging!" I groan. "I swear you just caught us at a bad time. Harry has some weird cousins and they just happened to be here-"

"I don't like the way you talk about Harry."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You talk like you're a couple." I follow dad's eyeline to the crack in the door where Harry is visible, giggling like a toddler as he pours himself a soda and chats to Louis.

"We're just housemates."

"Hm. You know your mother and I always hoped that you and Charlie would-"

"Dad!" I grit my teeth in frustration.

"I don't like  this at all." He says suddenly. "Money going missing from your account. A weird man moving in... Druggies in your living room-"

"They're not-"

"I'm going to try and find out more about this 'Harry'. Something doesn't feel right.... You said his dad was a professor at your uni... What's his name?"

"What?"

"Harry's dad's name? I'd like to talk to him. Me and your mum have been worried and after today...."

"You want to talk to Harry's dad?" I repeat, playing for time. I know what my Dad is like, he won't drop it until it's set in stone.

"Yes."

"Right."

"I'll just call the university tomorrow and chat to him, which department-"

"Noooo." I give a long fake laugh. "I tell you what-"

"What?" Dad glares down at me, looking incredibly unimpressed and suspicious.

I don't know why I say it.

I think it's nerves, or stupidity, or a huge combination or the two.

Somehow I find myself plastering a smile on my face and blurting the words merrily.

"Don't worry, I'll bring Harry and his Dad round for dinner at yours."

***

To say that I'm stressed about the forthcoming dinner at my parents house on Saturday is an understatement.

I keep thinking of increasingly elaborate excuses of why Harry's 'Dad' can't attend, but I know if no one turns up then my parents will just phone the uni and my story will unravel itself pretty quickly.

Urgh.

One thought keeps coming back to me, I know Harry is dead against it, but Dr P could probably help us out here. If we could persuade him to act as Harry's Dad... Given that he wants to keep his Dream Factory secret he'd probably do it...

Harry keeps insisting that Dr P will try and exterminate him in some way to avoid the stress of lying to my parents over dinner and if I didn't think he was half-right, I would press on with it.

While I'm stressing over this, Harry's entire obsession is the university ball. He knows more about it than me, thanks to his sudden friendship with Jenna Martins, the daughter of our Avon rep, Claire, who has been suspiciously absent since she tried it on with Harry.

Jenna is bitch that's at a level off the scale. The kindest thing she's ever said to me is that the grease on my hair made it look shiny from a distance.

I hate her utterly and if I wasn't so stressed about this weekend, plus mine and Charlie's project, I would be a lot more worried about her and Harry's new Facebook friendship. It didn't escape my notice that she's reacted with ❤️ to every picture he's ever posted (including a close up of his big toe) and I've filed this knowledge away under things to worry about once I've dealt with my current list of problems.

By Friday night I'm in a frenzy. My parents are expecting us tomorrow night. Charlie has slacked off our project and seems really, unusually down, so it's fallen on me to complete our project for Monday and to top matters off, I got home from uni to find that Harry has ordered me the most hideous dress known to mankind for the ball.

It's green and hugely puffy. If I wear it I'll look like a giant, inflated bogey.

Harry eagerly informs me that it was kindly suggested by Jenna.

I can only think of tomorrow night and the fact that Harry has no one to bring to be his dad and how my own dad will suddenly become Sherlock Holmes to find out what's really going on, unless I can provide a father for Harry.

One person keeps coming into my mind.

He's roughly the right age, it wouldn't be impossible for Harry to be his son at least...

I make my decision. Leaving Harry looking up suits for the ball I head I to my bedroom and dial a number.

It's a several tense rings before there is an answer and I take a deep breath.

"Hey, Grace! It's Hendrix. I need to ask a favour. Look, this is weird, really weird and you can say no... It's just... You remember how you said Liam could lie..."

**

Dedicated to @meperla3

I'm ill 😩😩 I'm soooo crap at being ill, I'm a big baby and I just want my mammy to make me soup... Instead I've got my cat meowing noisily round my bed and demanding food. I hate adulting 😂😂

If anyone can make decent soup I'm taking donations.

Hope you enjoyed this, written in one 🙈didn't want to go too long without updating

Anyone got any predictions? Just curious.