Chapter 2

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"Oh my fucking god, can you believe that just happened? " Mel screams the minute the door is shut, and we're alone, grabbing hold of my hands and bouncing on the balls of her feet like a toddler the night before Christmas.
I giggle nervously before forcing my face into a serious expression to reply.
"What I can't believe, is that you just slept the entire way back and didn't even get to speak to him! And! You snored. Loudly."
"I did not!" Mel's cheeks flush. "I do NOT snore. So, what did you guys talk about? Clearly, you made quite the impression. I don't think he gives out concert tickets and dinner invitations to every girl he meets."
I flop on to the purple sofa in the living room of our tiny two-bedroom flat. It's not much, but it's home, and it's comforting to be back here after all the excitement of the evening, whilst Mel disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a glass of wine for her and water for me. I take a sip gratefully, not realising how thirsty I had become.
"Tell me everything!" She demands as she slides on to the sofa next to me and pulls a fluffy blanket across both our laps. "What did he say? Did he talk about the other boys? Do you think he could introduce me to Liam? That boy is Finnne."
I giggle again. "Isn't that boy also dating Cheryl... Fernandez-what's-her-name? I remember reading that they had a kid.."
"I think she's just going by Cheryl Cole again now. And, way to burst my bubble. Fine! You can sit here relishing in the fact that Harry Freaking Styles asked you out on a date, whilst I nurse my broken heart."
"He didn't ask me on a date! He was just being kind, wanting to make sure we get to experience his show properly, that's all. Also, he did talk about the band a little yes, but only to say that he loved his time with them when I mentioned I took my niece to see them at Wembley. Other than that, I explained that I wasn't a crazed fan and that you had taken me along tonight and we, you know, talked.. about normal stuff! Movies, hobbies, food.. he's just a person Mel. It was the same kind of conversation I'd have with you." I tell her honestly.
I neglect to mention the fact that twice when he changed gear, the side of his long-fingered hand brushed along my thigh and my heart skipped several beats. Or that I kept forgetting how to breathe when he smiled at me, there's no point. He's a superstar, and I'm a barmaid, it's not like I'll ever see him again after tomorrow.
"I'm going to bed." I announce and jump up before she can grill me any further, "Its been a long day and apparently, I have another concert to go to tomorrow. Goodnight!"
"Have Harry.. I mean Happy dreams." Mels teases as I start to climb the stairs.

I glance at the clock, only two pm, I am seriously starting to wonder if it's still working. I reach up across the shelves of expensive liquor that no one ever buys and tap the clock lightly. It ticks in response and the minute hand clicks over to its next position. Yep, still working. How is it only two pm? I feel like I've been stood behind this bar forever. I have the lunch shift today, just twelve till three, its meant to be my week off, but somehow I got suckered into covering as usual. I need to learn to say no. It's been a quiet shift, which is hardly unusual for a Monday lunchtime but I could use the distraction of lots of customers and noise today. I still can't quite believe that last night was real, I keep wondering if I dreamt it all. A buzz in my pocket announces a text from Mel, confirming that it did indeed happen.

Mel:
What are you going to wear tonight? I can't decide between my playsuit and my silvery top, what do you think?

Katie:
Silvery top. Definitely. And I am going to wear clothes, and I haven't thought further ahead than that. I'll be home around 3:30, I need to fill my prescription on the way back, so I'll have plenty of time to figure it out.

Mel:
I'll pick you out some outfits to choose from! Don't be late, the car's coming at five remember.

Crap that's right, he's sending a car, why on earth did I agree to that? We could quite easily have got the train. At least I know he won't be driving us, I guess it'll be a chauffeur of some kind. Do pop stars have chauffeurs? He'll be busy preparing for his show. I pick up some polish and a rag and get to work cleaning every inch of the wooden bar until I can practically see my face in it, in a pitiful attempt to distract myself from the evening's plans. I hope I don't have to stand down in the pit again I think, not sure my lungs can handle another night of that. When the clock finally hits three, I say a quick goodbye to Mark, my manager, grab my bag and head off to the pharmacy.

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