Dreaming Of You // If I'm Still Dreaming

Harry’s POV

So, this is me. Everything I’ve been through has brought me to the moment I stand naked underneath a women’s robe in front of the man that impregnated Jeanne. It has to be a nightmare… All I can do is to gaze down at myself in panic. These tattoos look even sillier in contrast with the dainty fabric. But too late for second guesses, because glancing back up, before I can even react Lara throws herself in my arms.

“Princess…” I catch her, holding her tightly. She lets out a little giggle, though she gets startled at her mother arriving all of a sudden, phone in hand.

“Hans-Peter,” Jeanne gasps, visibly agitated. It doesn’t even last a second, as shoving the phone on the shirt’s pocket she breathes in, and leading a hand to the back of Lara’s head, she kisses her on the cheek. And I’m not as cool and collected as she is, and I’d never pretend to be, so I succumb to the wicked pleasure of learning anything about my competition. He’s transfixed, a blank stare on his face. Why does he have to be the freaking definition of boyfriend material, with the light stubble and the dad cardigan?

“Hanne.” He completely snubs me. So I’m the elephant in the room now. Great. To make matters worse, that’s her name in German. I know because I’ve learnt every existing version of her name. Is this some sort of claim over her? Or am I reading too much into it? But… Jeanne and him have the exact same colours. Like, the hair, the skin, eyes, mucosa… They look so much alike you could easily take them for brother and sister. Am I the only one who notices this…?

“Where’s Hilda?–––Jeanne questions him, still stroking her daughter’s hair. English, please,” she hastens to add, glimpsing at me. Is she trying to prevent him from leaving me purposely in the dark? Because he definitely looks like he would.

“I gave her the weekend off.” He doesn’t dissimulate his discomfort. “She went to Bath to visit her nanny college.” Nanny college…? Nanny college? Norland is the motherfucking Harvard of governesses, for God’s sake. And why do all posh people sound the same, as speaking with a plum in the mouth? He probably comes from a long line of diplomats with no other earthly concern than learning languages at an early age. Jeanne steps inside for us to follow, and I’m glad, because the last thing I need is to be photographed like this. “We were at the park–––he continues–––and we thought of taking you out to lunch.” Jeanne bites her tongue, folding her arms. “I sent you a text message…” At his words I automatically glimpse at her. A text message that she just read, as we were doing bad things. Yeah. Timely.

“I thought you wanted quality time with her,” she complains. He shoots me a lop-sided glare, finally acknowledging me. If gazes could kill.

“It wouldn’t be an issue if there wasn’t a half-naked man at your house…”

“Boundaries, Hans-Peter…” Jeanne speaks from the bottom of her heart, sounding crossed as never before. I won’t deny it feels good not to be the cause of her frustration this time. “Harry is my friend, and as you can see Lara is very much acquainted to him.”

“I’m not blind…” He mutters through gritted teeth, his eyes fixed on me. But in an unexpected change of heart he holds his hand out for me to shake it. “Hello, nice to meet you, Harry,” his voice completely transforms. Well, I guess if he decided to bury the hatchet the least I can do is not to crush his fingers. “I’m Hans-Peter Vogel, Lara’s dad.” I could enjoy the sonority of his name if it weren’t, erm, his.

“Harry Styles. Nice to meet you,” I say anyway. He flashes a string of pearly white teeth. Everything about him is so neat it’s as if he came straight out of a launderette. It’s disturbing. “Would you like to have lunch with us?” Jeanne flashes me a rather questioning look. I know it’s quite surprising, but we’re doing nothing wrong here… There’s nothing to hide or to be ashamed of. The best thing we can do is to normalise this right away. And what else could be done to solve the most awkward situation ever? Because we’ve shared many others, but this tops everything. “Tu veux rester à manger avec maman et moi?” I talk to Lara, who seems to be a bit intimidated by her parents’ disagreement. She might be young, but she’s old enough to sense something’s off. Kids are so perceptive.

“Papa ?” She mumbles at me, all shy. It melts my heart when she writhes like a sleepy kitten in my arms.

“Papa aussi. Les quatre ensemble,” I reassure her, straightening out her summer dress. Jeanne tilts her head at him. It looks like we’re on the same page. Well, sort of, at least. Hans-Peter nods in approval, and I let him walk ahead of me. I’m still practically naked. The clothes I have upstairs are not fresh, but I need to put on something. Even my tiger tattoo is showing, and yeah, my manhood’s dangerously dangling down there.

“What do we eat, Hanne?” He asks, getting too friendly for my liking, as he throws himself on the massive Ottoman, opposite at me. From all the possibilities he comes to land right on the spot where Jeanne and I had sex last night, and I can’t help but cringe. The photos are still displayed all around. He reads something on my face, because he glimpses at his side. For a split second it seems like he knows all about our tryst. Of course he doesn’t, yet I’m blushing so hard I feel like burning. Jeanne quickly gathers up everything, and walks away before even replying to him. First thing first.

“Spaghetti al sugo con le polpette…” She says over her shoulder, leaving the box and the photos on a tallboy, out of everyone’s reach. She’s not even trying to be sexy. It’s just in her DNA. And I don’t know anything anymore, except it involves pasta of some sort, and that I’m famished again. Weirdly enough his expression drops.

“That’s your happy meal…”

“It is.” Her soulful voice resonates in every corner of my being. She glances at me with the brightest smile on her face, and my knees go weak. Even if those two words aren’t semantically loaded they’re better than the most elaborated declaration of love. She cooked her happy meal for me… It means she was hopeful things would work for us last night. It dawns on me that she loves me, that we are in love, and together. And I’m still standing half naked in the middle of her lounge with her child in my arms, and I’m ridiculous, but she loves me… I’m random, clumsy and I have a terrible sense of humour, but it’s me that makes her happy. Neither Mr. Perfect nor anyone else. Just me.

“I’ll be right back,” I murmur to her, handing her the girl. I have to refrain myself from kissing her because no matter how hyped I am and how much I want to do so, I can’t shock Lara like this. And Hans-Peter’s here too. I don’t want him to think I’m taunting him or something. I won’t go there. I want for us to be able to be civil to one another. Jeanne grins at me before I head for the staircase. Nobody needs to know more about my anatomy, so I keep a hand near my bottom.

As soon as I reach her storey I go directly towards the sofa. The clothes dried up, but the rain left such a funny feel. Once I take off her delicate robe I bring it to my nose. It smells like her, like her smooth skin, and now also a bit like me… I get startled for no apparent reason, and leave the robe on the back of the sofa to resume my activity. I don’t want to be away for too long.

“What did you request?” Jeanne’s voice surprises me a moment later. I bounce towards her, as I see her carrying one of my leather handbags. Magnificent timing, Emma.

“I’m moving in…” My cheeky self takes over. I make her drop the bag on the floor. “No, I’m not–––I rectify my words before she can even blink. Well, not completely… Come here.” My hands run around her waist, and when our bodies are pressed together she kisses me. It is as if she knew I was dying to do so. This bottomless hunger… But this time the meaning behind it is far more important than the kiss itself. Stumbling back I get to sit on the bed, and drag her to my lap.

“He’s putting the sunflowers on a vase.” She avoids saying his name. “Thank you… He’s a great person.” She clearly doesn’t want to push him on me. Yeah. “It must be weird for him. I don’t know how I’d react.” If she says so.

“Probably cooler, because you are all Zen and that.” I shrug. She’s right. I don’t really want to think too much about it.

“Well, I am into Buddhism,” she retorts. Is she? I can’t help but scrunch my face. I never thought she could be into religion.

“I’m glad you don’t mind I asked them to stay,” I return to more urgent subjects. I know she appreciates me being somehow receptive amidst the madness.

“That’s my daughter downstairs…” Jeanne points toward the door, as she speaks in a blithe tone. “I was missing her, in fact.” Of course she was. There’s even one of Lara’s soft toys in her bed. I can’t do other than stare at her. Sometimes when she’s not being Mighty Venus there’s something so affectionate to her, so sweet, so nurturing… Sometimes I just forget Venus was a mother too.

“Good, because I don’t mind taking a break…” I nuzzle her nose, my hands moving from her waist to run through her hair and neck. “I can continue to make love to you all the way to the end of the weekend, and beyond that… No rush.”

“No rush…” She repeats.

This time there’s no rush, having the rest of our lives ahead of us.

–.–.–

Notes

I promise I'll never make you wait so long again. I hope you enjoyed loved-up Harry. More very soon. Feedback is highly appreciated. Missed you, guys. Love you all <3