For The Love Of Clara

You come into my flower shop everyday. You always order roses for your one night stands. I hate your smile, your eyes, your curly hair. Everything. Then why do I always wish I was the one receiving your flowers? Why do I want you to place your hands on me and kiss me? I want you to rip my clothing off and make love to me in the garden. So, Mr. Styles will you buy me a bouquet of roses?


9. I'm Turning French

The next morning I heard knocking on Harry's front door. I rolled out of bed and made my way to the foyer. 

"Do get it," grumbled Harry. 

"That would be rude," I smiled back at him as I proceeded to the door. 

I unlocked the front door and pulled it open. I was caught off guard as hundreds of cameras stared back at me. Paparazzi were throwing questions at me like crazy. I didn't know how to respond but I could feel tears forming. It was too many questions that I didn't answer. I couldn't answer. 

Then I felt someone's arm around my waist and the shift of the cameras. I looked up at Harry and he pulled me close to him like he would do to a child. 

"Harry who is your new girl?" 

I looked up at him and shook my head. I didn't need my name draped all over the press. 

"This is Emma, she's a French model. I met her a couple months ago and she came here because we have a photo shoot together."

"What is the shoot?" 

"Dolce." Damn it Harry, just shut the fucking door. I wanted to scream at him. "She doesn't speak any English, so please know she doesn't understand you. Thank you." 

He pulled me back and then closed the door. 

I pushed him away from me. "A fucking model?! Dolce yet?! What the hell is the matter with you?!" 

"It was the first thing I thought of."

I was about to smack him again but he took both of my wrists and twirled me around. He pushed me against him. His lips ran across my neck, and I moaned unwillingly. 

"Your such a bastard."

"Tell me something I don't know," he said against my skin. 


"So when did you become French?" Louis asked me as the rest of One Direction came into an interview room. 

"This morning," I said. I was sitting on a couch against the wall. The boys had an interview and then Harry was taking me somewhere. Since this morning though he didn't want me alone so he brought me along especially since he was my 'translator'. 

"Hello," said Harry. "Bonjour," he said to me. 

"Bonjour," I was thankful I decided to take French when I was younger. 

"Welcome One Direction," said a man as he walked into the room. "Please don't mind my cameras." 

"No, not at all," said Liam. 

"Alright I'll ask a couple of questions, any of you answer. You get the idea," he said, then he looked at me. "Hello?" 

Alright, Clara, let's try and do some role playing. The innocent French model, lovely. 

I looked at him with a quizzical expression. 

"She doesn't speak English," said Harry. "She's a model from France and I was the only one she knows so she stays with me." 

"Oh, bonjour," he said and smiled. 


"How's your stay in England?" He asked me, so I played the part and looked at Harry who flawlessly translated. 

I watched his lips as he smoothed over the French syllables. I had to admit it was sexy. 

"Oh, very nice and loud," I said in French. 

"Well, nice for you to be here Ms--?"

"Bouvier, Emma Bouvier." Harry finished. 

"Ms. Bouvier," he smiled at me. "Now, boys. News has been traveling through the grapevine that Niall has gotten himself a girl." 

"And Harry," said Louis. 

Who's Niall seeing? 

"Harry?" The interviewer implied. 

"I'm actually seeing Emma. We have been on and off since I left France, but we have decided to give it another go," he looked at me then spoke in French. "Right?" 

"Right," I said. So wrong. Ugh, he's just digging a bigger hole for us to die in. 

"Amazing, so Niall," he looked at him. "Who's your lucky girl."

"I'm not ready to tell the world yet," said Niall.

"Surely the boys know?"

"Well, no," he looked down and smiled. Something was so going on with him. 

"So she's your secret," the interviewer smiled. 

"We are our own little secret," those words made my swoon. Niall was so cute when he was nervous. He was like a puppy. 

Then you have Harry who has the craziest mood swings and acts like he's the coolest guy in the entire world. ...Okay maybe he is...whatever. 

I was so caught up in my thoughts I haven't heard the other questions. 

"Emma?" Harry said. 

"Desole," I said and then Harry translated.

"Are you excited for the Dolce photoshoot?" 

He was serious. There was really going to be a Dolce photo shoot? I'm not even a model! "You are serious?" I asked in French and within minutes Harry and I were in an argument and talking in complete French. 

"I thought you would enjoy it," he said. 

"I'm not a model, why are you doing this?" I replied.

"I saved you from those damned paparazzi this morning."

"I said 'thank you'. I never asked for a Dolce photo shoot." 

"You are so annoying."

"Me?!" I stood up. "I'm tired of you making up stories and dragging me along. Why keep lying to me Harry."

"I'm not lying about anything." 

"Pathetic," and with that I turned and left the interview room. "Desole," I apologized to everyone else in the room. 

I grabbed my coat from one of the assistants and threw it on as I slammed my hands on the exit doors. Paparazzi were everywhere, but I pushed them away. 

They wouldn't move. 

I was trapped, literally. 

"Get out of the way!" I turned and saw Zayn running to me. 


He took hold of my waist and together we ran out of the mess of cameras and back into the building. 

"Are you alright?" He looked down at me. 

I was on the verge of tears but he saved me. He saved me when Harry was probably to stubborn to do so. 

"Thank you," I said to him as I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him. "Where's Harry?" 

He looked down to the ground and shook his head, "It doesn't matter. You're safe, that's what does matter." 


Zayn's POV

"Desole," said Clara as she left the room. I don't speak a lot of French but I knew Harry and her just had an argument. 

"Harry go after her," said Liam. 

"She's so difficult," he said. "That's why our relationship never worked out." He leaned back in his seat. 

My seat was the closet to the window and I looked down at all the paparazzi. 

"She's still you're girlfriend," I said, then my eyes grew wide. She was outside. "She's going to be eaten alive out there."

"Maybe she'll learn a lesson," muttered Harry but loud enough for everyone to hear him. 

"You're a dick," I said as I got up from my seat and left the room. I ran down the hallway and opened the front door. I pushed through the crowd and took hold of Clara. 

She looked up at me with rejoicing eyes. I brought her back inside and looked down at her. "Are you alright?"

She looked like she was about to cry.

"Thank you," she said and then hugged me. "Where's Harry?"

I shook my head. I wasn't lying when I told Harry he was dick. He's hurt plenty of girls but this one is special. She means something not to just him but all of One Direction. "It doesn't matter. You're safe, that's what does matters."

She nodded, and I was pretty sure she knew that Harry wasn't going to go after her. As a result a tear fell from her eye and I took my thumb and rubbed it away.

She had no idea what she has gotten herself in too, and it was only just the beginning.  

Alright, first any of the French words you can use Google Translate for translation. That what I used to translate English to French, because I don't speak French :) 

I know Harry speaks a little French in real life but probably not as much as I imply in this chapter. Oh well. 

Zayn to the rescue! 

Please comment, like and favorite. I'm sorry I didn't get to update yesterday. I was super busy, but I'll be updating Meet Me In America today as well. Enjoy the day wherever you are! 

Much love, morgan .xx

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