From The Dining Table [H.S]

Too Late

Primrose's POV:

After hurrying my parents up the stairs and into my lounge, I began frantically pacing back and forth, trying to comprehend why the hell Harry's here.

"Plum, what's going on?" My mum asks softly, noticing I'm very distressed.

"It's nothing, I'm fine. I just saw a spider - and you know how freaked out I get by spiders." I lie, as I continue to walk back and forth.

"Primrose, please don't lie to us." My dad adds.

"Fine." I snap, before abruptly walking off into my bedroom. A few moments later I returned with Harry's letter, and I threw it down onto my coffee table. "This." I point at the letter. "This is why I'm stressed."

I watch as my mum gingerly picks up the envelope, and removes the letter. She holds both the photo and letter out in front of her and my dad, so they can read it.

"Uhm..." my dad clears his throat. "...what exactly is this, Primrose?" He asks.

I take a deep breathe, and sit opposite them on my sofa. "It's a letter, from a boy called Harry. I met him in Jamaica. Dan was vile to me in the bar, and he stood up for me. I spent the rest of the evening with him - we got along really well. I got a little bit drunk, and by a little I mean a lot-,"

"Oh god, you didn't sleep with him did you?!" My mum interrupts, earning a glare from my dad.

"No! No, not at all. I fell over and hit my head, and he took me back to his place because he didn't know where I was staying, and didn't feel comfortable taking me back to Dan while in such a state. I woke up in his bed the next morning, and he was asleep on his sofa. Before I left, I wrote him my address so he could write to me."

"Of course you did." My mum smiles warmly, knowing I have sentimental value towards letters.

"But then, I tore it up. As I went to leave, his friend asked if I was okay and guided me to the door. I threw the address away in their bin. Then I left." I finish, watching as my parents try to take in the flood of information I just poured on them.

"So... how did this letter get to you?" My dad questions.

"Well, Harry had a very special note book in his room - which I didn't realise - so when he saw the ball of his paper in the bin, he took it out because he was confused as to who wrote on his paper. When he saw it was my address, he wrote me a letter anyways." I finish, slouching back into the sofa.

My parents look at me, confused, as if I've left a major part of the story out. "So... why's he here?" My dad asks.

I smack my hand against my head, as I realise I forgot to tell them the most important part. "Oh my god, how did I forget this! Obviously, you can see his phone number in the letter. I called him a few nights ago, and it was great. Until Angel recognised who he was. Turns out, he's Harry Styles - major celebrity: singer, actor and model. And I had no clue. Furious he didn't tell me who he actually was, I told him to forget about me then hung up. But then, I called him a few days ago, and he didn't answer. I left a voicemail telling him to call me so we could talk. I didn't expect him to come to my house, to my town, to my work!" I explain, quickly becoming flustered by the situation.

"Why did you get so mad?" My mum asks, leaning forward and placing the letter down.

"Well... I sort've invited him to stay with me... for a few days. Just to get to know him more!" I blurt out. "I was angry he would agree to see me, without telling me the risks - you know, the crazy fans or the paparazzi."

My mum stands from the sofa, and engulfed me into a hug. It's obvious she knows I'm hurting. "My poor girl, so caught up in a world she doesn't understand." She hums, squeezing me tighter.