Ours [harry styles] ✓

Ben

Getting ready for my date with Ben hadn't taken half as long as it had with Harry and I couldn't figure out whether this was a good or bad thing. Part of me screamed that less time meant less effort and therefore I wasn't as into it as I should have been. I knew it wasn't fair on Ben if I went into this half-heartedly, but I barely knew the guy aside from the few brief messages we'd exchanged via 'Lonely Hearts'. He seemed ridiculously perfect, the kind that was so perfect on paper it made you wonder what massive family secret or giant birth defect he was hiding. I owed to it myself, Elenore and Ben to at least give it my best shot, even if my head and heart was mourning the loss of Harry from my life. Another part of me pointed out that less effort simply meant things were going to be simple with Ben. He wasn't famous or known globally so I had nobody else to compete against. Ben's message had opened the door to a normal, healthy relationship that hopefully didn't come hand in hand with bricks flying through my windows. 

Sometimes these thoughts made me feel guilty. I knew it wasn't really Harry's fault that these disastrous events had occurred. If anything it was my fault for being so unable to deal with anything other than the cleanliness of my flat. I didn't deserve Harry. It wasn't the other way round. A relationship with Harry could only be described as an experience. It was an emotional roller coaster, it made you feel alive. I was just too chicken to climb aboard and stay there. I hated that Harry had got it into his head that our date had meant nothing to me. If he'd calmed down for five minutes in my hallway he would have understood that. He wouldn't have left seething and jealous. Being a single mother without my own parents had built a bubble around myself and my life. Harry's drama had begun to wear the bubble thin, threatening its stability. Whenever I got worked up, the bubble felt as though it was going to pop and I panicked, hence the attacks. Without Harry, I could keep my bubble, but I was slowly beginning to wonder if the trade was really worth it. 

"Ok, date round two." Elenore squealed, frantically smoothing every inch of my outfit and drenching me in perfume. 

"Stop fussing!" I choked through the cloud. "This is going to be a fuss-free date. It's going to be simple, calm and sophisticated." 

"I doubt it'll be simple, calm and sophisticated in the bedroom." She sniggered, brushing a stray hair out my eyes. My jaw dropped.

"Elenore, what on earth do you take me for?" I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore the blush that burned in my cheeks. "You're as bad as Harry." Since he'd picked up Nola I hadn't been able to stop thinking about his comment regarding my 'game plan'. He'd made me feel cheap. 

"You know I'm kidding." She sighed, finally dropping her hands and taking a step away from me. She studied me for a moment before nodding in approval. "Perfect." 

"Wish me luck!" I breathed, swiping my keys and bag from the coffee table and racing out the door before she had a chance to give me one of her pep talks. Her shouts of protest were cut off as the door closed and I found myself smiling as I left the building. For once I actually felt in control. And it felt strange. It was only when I was behind the wheel of my car that I realised how peculiar it also felt to be on the way to a date where Harry wasn't going to be waiting for me. In some ways Harry had slowly begun to become part of my bubble. I'd grown more and more ok with moving up and allowing him to have a spot, but now that possibility was gone. 

I shook my head, hoping to rid my thoughts of Harry and focus on who I was meeting instead. Ben. Tall, fair haired and handsome Ben. His profile really had made him out to be the 'perfect man' and I just hoped he was the same in person. I wasn't sure how I would cope with another disastrous date, particularly one that concluded in A&E. His bio had stated that he was a music student and I couldn't help wondering if self-professed musos were officially my 'type'. He played the guitar, played rugby, could cook and had his own place. The more I thought about him the more ridiculously perfect he became. It was almost as if I was going to meet a Ken doll.