When in Paris (Harry Styles Love Story)

Ireland Geller, ironically born in Scotland, needs an escape route. Just as she turns eighteen, she decides to free herself from the horrible place she has called home for so many years. She packs her belongings, leaving a letter behind for her family, and flees to small town France with only the leather suitcase in her hand. Just across the harsh waters, boyband member, Harry Styles is waking up to the same problems; He just wants to run. Slowly, but surely, he makes his way to Ireland, the only person who can bring out the good in the rebelling star again.

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2. Ireland

I smiled over at Bridgette and Aaron, directing them both towards our favorite spot in the whole of our portion of Scotland. We called it the 'important news spot', a name we had given it when we were each just six years old. This spot was where we made a pa/ct to stay together forever, to never leave Scotland. A pact that I would be breaking soon enough. 

As soon as I began to speak, a serious expression washed over my face and transferred to Bridge and A. I calmly explained to them that I had made an important decision and they needed to know exactly what it was.  

I reached over, grabbing Aaron's hand and interlocking our fingers. I had made my mind up last night, unable to sleep. I was leaving Scotland on my birthday, which was just twelve days away, and I couldn't wait. He stared out into the sea of green, tears forming in his crystal blue eyes. Bridgette pecked his cheek to soothe him, shooting me a look as if she wanted to murder me. Clearly, I had no support from any of my friends. Aaron shook his head, a droplet falling from his pale eyelashes. "Why, Ireland? Why would you leave us?" I felt my lip quiver as I watched pain manifest into both of their shimmering eyes. I knew they felt betrayed, but it's what I had to do, no matter what promises or pacts I had made years before. I rested my head on his muscular shoulder, doubts filling my thoughts. Was it worth it? 

"I-I'm sorry, guys. You know I love you both, but.." Suddenly, Bridgette stood from her spot in the grass and, brushing the lawn clippings from her capri-pants, exploded into fury and tears. Large bullets stream lined from her eyes, pulling make up with them. "But what?! You just want something more than us? I get it." She didn't bother to wipe the eyeliner stains from her cheeks as she grabbed Aaron's hand, pulling us apart with her undeniable strength. His heavy, pained eyes expressed his inner conflict as he stood, brushing my head from his shoulder. "If you really 'loved' us, Ir, then you would stay and give up on your stupid hopes of finding paradise. It's never been good enough for you. Never, not even when we were little. So you go on, you go find 'paradise in Paris', but when you come crawling back to Cardross, don't talk to Aaron, or me." She started to pull him away, but he didn't budge. 

He gave her strong eyes, standing his ground, telling her that he wanted to stay. I watched her big blue eyes widen, hiding the sparkling golden eye shadow that coated her eyelids. She cocked her head to the side and tightened her pursed lips. It was evident she was upset and needed Aaron to follow her, but he wouldn't move, his large leathery boots planted into the patch of clover under his feet. I didn't move an inch either, wishing, silently, that I was anywhere but here. Paris, Venice, London, New York. Anywhere.

"Nice to know that you're a trader, too, Aaron." She hissed, trembling ever so slightly. I felt as if I was going to be sick. Was Paris really worth it? I pinched my sides, hoping to make my thoughts still. They were constantly buzzing and pestering me, giving me the negativity I didn't need. "Wait, Bridge!" He called after her as she sped down the hill. He lurched forward, droplets still dripping from his chin, just below his flushed red cheeks. "T-this may be the last time I see you, Ireland, so," He stuttered slightly, turning on his heel to look at Bridgette, who was making her way up the second set of rolls, her hands clasped to her face. I ran a hand through his curly blonde locks, twisting my slender finger through a ringlet, then dragging it down, slowly, to his defined jaw bone. "Shut up, Aaron." I whispered, now just a few inches from his face.

His eyes drifted to a close, his large hands wrapping around my waist. A single one of his large fingers was pinching my belt loop as we leaned in closer, our lips colliding. We blurred together, meshing to become a single figure. I wrapped my manicured hands around his neck, playing with the fuzz that trailed under the luscious, thick locks that he had. He stopped to take a breath, his face still so close, that I could feel his warm breath on my lips, forcing my mind to beg for more. "I.. Love you." He whispered into me, leaning back in for another taste. I squeezed my eyes shut, attempting to shut off my attraction and desire. My hands dropped from his neck, my body instantly distancing itself from his. He opened his eyes, confusion coating his once puffy orbs. I pushed away, looking him up and down, noticing his outstretched arms first. Tears welled in my own eyes, threatening to spill over like a waterfall of hurt. 

"D-don't touch me." I whispered, backing away from him. I crossed my arms over my chest and bit my bottom lip in a disturbing mixture of pain and lust. I couldn't breathe. He was in love with me? How could he say something so impacting just before I was to leave for Paris? "I'm so sorry, Aaron." I murmured, leaning over to pick up my pack. He reached toward me, but I flinched away, causing more damage to the situation than ever before. "I said.. Please don't touch me." I slung the velvet shoulder bag over my head and ran towards my home, a good mile away. The whole way, thoughts of Bridgette and Aaron walking with me, hand in hand, haunted me. I screamed out in pain, but I couldn't hear it. I was deaf to my own emotions. I had just lost my only friends, my only connection with the outside world. I collapsed onto the grassy knoll, a good ninety-five percent of the way to my home left.

I had no choice but to go to Paris anymore. I wasn't loved here anymore, I wasn't accepted. A knot formed in my stomach, nausea overwhelming me as I lay sprawled across the patch of itchy onion grass and clover. So it was decided. Paris was my only way out of here now. 

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