You open your eyes when you hear your one-year-old daughter, Olivia, laughing and babbling. You frown slightly and rub your eyes, trying to wake up properly from the nap you just took—a nap that Olivia should be taking.

You look at her, now that you've managed to return from the world of dreams, and notice that she's looking to the right while smiling. You turn your head and find yourself staring into a pair of green eyes. Recognizable green eyes.

"Hi, sorry to bother you. The little one woke up a few minutes ago and I wanted to entertain her because you looked really tired and I didn't want to wake you," he says smiling. What the fuck does this guy remind you of- "I'm Harry," he says, extending his hand.

Harry. Harry fucking Styles.

You didn't say no when your mother invited you to spend a few days with her at her house in London. You didn't say no when she insisted on buying you a first-class flight either. According to her, traveling with a baby is easier that way, there's less chance of them crying. But at no point did you think you'd end up next to someone famous. Someone like Harry Styles.

Thanks mom.