Operation Conquer Roger Taylor In Six Easy Steps As Told By The Crimean Invasion (let's never say that in one breath again, shall we?)

Step 1: Define Your objectives.

Step 2: Act Fast, when your target is weak.

Step 3: Confuse and destroy.

Step 4: Establish a narrative.

Step 5: Cut communications.

Step 6: Consolidate your gains.

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Here's the thing with invading a country: it's never easy. You really need to work hard for success. By day 11, I had run Roger off his feet. While everyone else toured or relaxed around in the hotel, Roger and I ran wild in the streets. Each day we found a new bar, we played truth or dare in the park (yes, we are that immature) which resulted in me having to climb the highest tree he could find and then falling out of it after 4 branches, straight into his arms and consumed a ridiculous amount of Guinness after a stop at the Guinness Storehouse. The thing with Roger was that you didn't take long to click with him and it didn't take long to like him and for him to like you back. Awkward strolls in the park turned to chasings, kisses and seriously intense drinking games. Everyone else finally cottoned on to our adventures on day 10 when we both turned up to breakfast with serious hangovers.

"Lucy, you look like you could pass out." John was shocked at how I looked. I felt dead.

"I've run myself ragged this trip. I imagined a bloody relaxing holiday to escape work and de-stress and I've just run myself to the ground again." I confessed, pushing my sunglasses down to cover my eyes. Roger sat down beside, also wearing sunglasses.

"Jesus, Roger. You're no better!" Freddie laughed, looking at us two zombies. I looked over at Roger to see he looked worse than me, almost green. I couldn't help but smile a little. We may have ruined ourselves but we'd had fun doing it.

The previous night is blurry. I remember walking up the stairs with Roger, hand in hand, both falling over each other. The drink had certainly got to our heads, making us laugh for no reason at all. Stopping at Roger's room, we flopped onto the bed. My shoes were begging to be taken off.

"Lucy?" Roger asked, suddenly sober.

"Yeah?" I asked back. He looked at me with a very serious face as he placed his hand behind my back.

"I don't want you to be a one night stand." He confessed, kissing me. He tasted strongly of vodka and pineapple. He was drunk, of course, but this was his sober side shining through.

"I don't, either."

And now here we are, sitting at the breakfast table with drills in our heads and helicopters in our ears.

"Are you going to eat anything, Elle?" My mother asked as I felt Roger slide a napkin under my hand. I looked down, reading "girlfriend, y/n". With a smile, I replied yes to both.