Beth's POV

I stare at Harry, then down to his hand, back up to his face and to his hand again.

I must look like one of those damn bobble head things.

I slowly extend my own hand and take his extended one. It's warm as it encloses around my smaller one.

"Beth," I reply with a shy smile.

"Nice to meet you Beth," his face lights up as he returns my smile.

I notice it makes his eyes seem even brighter, then I notice I'm still holding his hand in mine.

"I...uh, sorry," I apologise.

A commotion behind me of banging bowls and cutlery cause me to turn around to see all the groceries now put away except for the tub of ice cream left out alongside a bottle of chocolate topping.

"Hey, no!" I say, "dinner first guys!"

"We've had ice cream for dinner before mum!" Chloe rolls her eyes at me.

Lord, let the ground open up and swallow me please.

"I was sick with the flu, it was an exception," I reply through gritted teeth.

I turn back around to see Harry try to hide a grin.

"Would...do you want to come in? I mean, I'm sure you're really busy..." I ask, knowing he probably won't want to but I have to pay him back for his generosity.

"Do you want some ice cream Harry?" Chloe yells from behind me.

I watch Harry grin, his dimple making an appearance.

For some ungodly reason I want to stick my finger in it.

"Sure," he says as he steps past me and into the house, "I see you've found the topping too..."

Well okay then, come on in Harry.

He sounds just as excited as they do.

I close the door behind him and follow Harry to the kitchen area, watching him remove his coat and place it over the back of a chair before rolling his sleeves up.

He grabs the bottle of topping and starts to squeeze it over each bowl, except for Jamie's as he lets him know he only likes his plain.

They all move over to the table and eagerly tuck in.

Right...

Guess its ice cream for dinner then.

I perch myself on a stool at the breakfast bar and watch as my children alternate between groans of how good the ice cream is and thanking Harry profusely for said ice cream.

I suddenly have a mental image of Harry standing in a spandex costume, his cape and hair blowing in the breeze as he holds a spoon in one hand and a tub of ice cream in the other, saving dessert one day at a time.

Captain Ice Cream...

The clinking of the spoons into bowls snaps me out of my random thought as my kids sit back in their seats, dreamy expressions on their faces.

Almost like they're drunk.

Drunk on ice cream.

"Okay guys," I say, "it's been a really long day, and you need to get to bed."

"But mum!"

"I'm not tired!"

"Just a bit longer!"

Its protests all round.

"But Harry's here mum!" Chloe pouts, her bottom lip pursing out.

Oh she's good.

She says it like Harry's an old friend of the family we've known for years instead of half an hour.

Even Harry's being sucked in with her pouty face.

"Yes I realise that but you guys need sleep. I need sleep," I say.

Again I'm met with protests and one grown man trying not to laugh.

Enough was enough.

"ONE!" I suddenly say.

Silence.

Harry raises his eyebrows as he looks around.

"TWO!" I keep going.

Chairs scrape across the floor as they begin to make a run towards the stairs.

"2 AND A HALF AND DON'T FORGET TO PUT YOUR BOWLS OUT!"

All three children back track and grab their bowls and spoons, tossing them into the sink before running up the stairs.

A chorus of "goodnight" and "love you mum" is heard as they bolt up the stairs like a herd of elephants and into their bedroom, the door shutting behind them.

I look at him to see an expression, somewhere between awe and surprise.

Harry goes to open his mouth to say something but I hold my hand up for him to wait, knowing my kids like I do.

The door opens again and shouts of "thanks Harry" and "goodnight Harry" come from upstairs before the door slams shut again, causing Harry to shake his head and laugh.

"Have you ever gotten to three?" Harry asks.

"No actually I haven't," I walk over to the sink and begin to run the water to wash the dirty dishes, "and to be honest, I don't know what I'd do if I did."

He laughs as he brings his own bowl over and places it into the soapy water.

He pulls a tea towel off the oven handle and proceeds to start drying.

I stop washing to take a moment.

Harry Styles is in my kitchen, well not MY kitchen, but the place I currently call my kitchen and...well you get the point.

It all feels a bit surreal.

I can see out the corner of my eye that he's noticed I've stopped.

"Are you okay?" his deep, drawn out voice questions me.

I look at him and for some reason, unbeknownst to me, I reach out and poke him in the chest with my finger.

His chest is hard, let me tell you.

Solid.

He looks at me bemused.

"Harry Styles is in my kitchen, drying my dishes," I muse.

Whether it's to myself or to him I cannot exactly say.

I think the jetlag is finally catching up to me.

"Yes he is," he replies, a smile on his face.

"Forgive me if I find that just a bit...strange," I continue, "I mean, not you strange, that your strange, cause you're not, well I don't think you are," my mouth is off and running, "it's cause you're in my kitchen that's strange..." I start to babble.

"I get what you're trying to say," he interrupts me, "I can't say I was going to have ice cream for dinner either," he shrugs his shoulders and smiles, "so it's strange all round then?"

"Oh...yes...I owe you for all that food," I suddenly remember, "can I drop the money off to you tomorrow?"

"It's fine, honestly," he shakes his head, his curls bounce across his shoulders, "I'm just really glad I could help you out."

I look down at the ground, embarrassed as I relive the moment in my head.

And there's silence.

"There is a way you could thank me," Harry says, breaking the silence.

I look up to see him pinch his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger.

My eyes widen at what possible thought he has come up with.

"Cook me dinner tomorrow night," he says.

Does this man have a death wish?

He wants to eat my cooking.

Voluntarily.

Poor bastard.

I can see the headlines now...

'Harry Styles rushed to hospital due to ingesting inedible food...is this the end of One Direction?'

'Woman charged with the attempted murder of Harry Styles.'

'Harry Styles: I'll never look at chicken the same way ever again.'

"I...uh..." I dry my hands on the handtowel before facing him, noticing his smile has vanished.

Shit.

"I'm not a particularly good cook," I quickly say to him, embarrassed at my inability in the kitchen, "like, I'm terrible!"

And it is true.

Back in high school I was in charge of making the hot chocolate in Home Economics. They call it Food Technology now, like a more official title to make it seem fancy. Anyway, let me tell you that sugar really is key to making a good hot chocolate...not salt. 'What?' I hear you say? The container only had an 'S' on it...could have confused anyone...

I watch as the smile returns, along with the dimple.

"I'll chance it," he says happily.

"It's your funeral," I reply, shrugging my shoulders, "don't say you weren't warned," I stifle a yawn.

"I should probably go," he says as he walks over to the chair to retrieve his coat and puts it back on, "shall we say 6 o'clock?"

"Okay," my voice comes out a little higher than usual, "sounds good."

He walks to the front door with me trailing behind him.

As Harry opens it, the crisp, night air greets us, which is not necessarily a bad thing as I feel quite flushed all of a sudden.

"Mum, is Harry going?" I hear a loud whisper and look up the top of the stairs to see Chloe as she peeks around the corner.

"Yes, but he'll be back for dinner tomorrow," I answer.

"Oh risotto mum, you have got to cook risotto!" Jamie begs.

That kid thinks about food constantly. I swear he'll marry a hamburger one day.

Harry chuckles as he steps outside.

"Risotto it is then," he smirks, "I look forward to it."

I wait until he is safe inside his car before waving and closing the door. The toot of his car horn as the tyres of his car on the gravel become faint, signals his departure. I lock the door and stand there, my hand still on the door knob.

"You alright mum?"

I look up at Jamie still at the top of the stairs.

"Harry Styles was just here," I say to him.

"Yep," he replies.

"In our kitchen," I gesture.

"I know," Chloe chimes in.

"You ate ice cream with him," I continue.

"He likes chocolate topping too," Chloe says proudly.

Ah...priorities...

I glance at his bowl and spoon in the sink.

"I could have flogged that stuff on eBay you know," I say jokingly.

Chloe rolls her eyes at me.

"Sure, if it were Niall's perhaps," she says as if I should really know better and throws on another eye roll in for good measure.

They disappear again, heading to bed. I turn the lights off and walk up the stairs, ready to do the same.

The exhaustion hits me as I finally crawl into bed and allow sleep to take over me in no time at all.