We'll Always Have Paris - A Harry Styles Fanfiction

Gabrielle Moreau is a 19-year old French girl living in Paris, the “capital of love”. To most people she looks ordinary, but behind her high-built façade hides a girl that suffers. She tries to shut the inferior sides of her life out by doing the things she loves and letting her thoughts circle around something elsewhere—and she succeeds in focusing on the good things in life flawlessly.
When Gabrielle an early morning gets a call from One Direction’s manager, who offers her the opportunity of working with them on their summer tour in Paris, she immediately replies him with a yes. She doesn’t know it just yet, but within the next few months she will get to grow a close bond to each of the boys in the band—and particularly one of them. Before she knows it, Gabrielle has been thrown into something she this time won’t be able to pull herself out of … Will she finally start opening herself up to someone and let them in without any conditions? **Check out the trailer in the right sidebar**


26. Dinner plans

A/N: I read every single comment on my fanfictions...and speaking about this one I am completely stunned. Your love makes me smile so freaking much and every time I read something good, you make my day. This makes me want to write something new for you guys even faster - because just knowing that you'll support me through it is simply heart-warming. I love you. SO. Freaking. Much. Ok. :')


Fingering with the curly phone wire in my hands, I drag the retro-styled telephone over my floor, giving me the ability of flopping down on my bed with a sigh. It’s been a long day, and since I’ve left the boys a couple of hours back the exhaustion in my body has only grown bigger. The only thing I can possibly need right now is a good night’s sleep, but the incoming call from Harry I had taken a couple of minutes ago had quickly put a stop to my scheduled program.

“I really don’t want that nickname to stick.” I shudder into the phone, wrapping the duvet closer around my cooled body. “Lovebirds. Ew, no. It only reminds me of awful things.”

His deep laughter echoes through the phone. “Right.”

I have to think things through for a bit and therefore a while passes before I speak again. “You doing anything this Sunday?”

“Nah, hanging with the lads, maybe. Nothing big.”

“Come by my house at six, then? There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Are you formally asking me to meet your family?” The smile in Harry’s voice is impossible not to take notice of. Pictures of his happy face in the end of the line appear in my mind, making a smile progress on my lips, too. How can I ever be the one making him smile? He’s flawless in every single possible way and I’m just ... well, me.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. The old one needs to know about you—and this time there won’t be any mad jokings, okay?” I say, letting out a laugh as I refer to Harry’s first meeting with my father: The one where he in a simple teasing almost had let the words slip that he is dating his only daughter.

“I think I’ll surrender for an hour or two,” he speaks with a slight laugh, clearly amused. When I feel a yawn coming I try to hold it in, but as usual it ends up being a failed attempt. Harry’s voice is soon heard again through the speaker, this time a lot more caringly and soothing. “Go to sleep, baby. You obviously need it—even I can hear you’re knackered and that’s gotta say something.”

“Sleep is for the weak.”

The yawn has smitten him, making him repeat my previous action. “I’m gonna be weak then. I’ll see you in the morning, okay? Goodnight, babe.”

“You too, babe.”

Harry isn’t able to see it himself, but he can obviously figure just how high I’ve raised my eyebrows. “Don’t start, Moreau,” he speaks in an earnest tone.

“I won’t.”

“We’ll say so.”

I decide to shut him out, waving him off with a low-whispered tender goodbye and a smirk in the corner of my mouth. “Sweet dreams.”

The last thing I hear before the line goes dead is his husky voice telling me something so short and simple, but yet with a meaning that makes the heart in my chest flutter. “As long as you’ll be with me in them.”




Not long after raising my hand to place a light knock on the door in front of me, it’s hastily swung open. The strands of Gabrielle’s long, glistening brown hair flickers before my eyes as she steps into the doorway, flashing a smile and opening the door up wider when she sees me standing on the upper step of the staircase. Her eyes, though, isn’t long on fastening on the serene street behind me. Filled with alertness, it’s not hard for me to figure she’s trying to hide something from me. Before I get to say anything, she pulls me over the doorstep and shuts the door behind us with a slightly creaking noise.

“Where’s your father? I recall him living here, too,” I speak when I notice the suspicious silence dominating throughout the house. Except the boiling of the pots in the kitchen, everything is silent. Maybe Mr. Moreau is just a noiseless man, but I wouldn’t be long on claiming that he’s out.

Gabrielle plays with the voluminous tips of her long hair, sending a stare at her bare feet. “I, um … he doesn’t know you’re dining here with us tonight.” When she speaks the last sentence her glance falls upon my face, nervously biting her lip as she sees the confused features in my face.

I take her hands in mine and my eyes find her brown ones. “My apologies for asking you this love, but then why’d you ask me to come?” I ask her in a calm and steady voice, squeezing her hand in a try to comfort her. She knows she doesn’t have to be afraid to tell me things—even if it’s just the small ones like these.

She almost immediately tries to explain. “He would’ve done something extraordinary with the dinner or the house if he knew. It had to be a surprise.” A sudden satisfied smile fixes on her lips, the tense muscles in her hands now relaxing beneath my touch. “He’s not coming home before six, so there’s just about…” She casts a look at the clock on the wall behind me. “…Ten minutes until he gets here. I’ll introduce you then, okay?”

I nod, but can’t hesitate coughing beneath my breath, a mischievous grin playing on my lips. “Yeah, like that’s not gonna be awkward.”

“Just trust me on this one, Harry. I promise it’s going to work,” she says with a giggle. She throws her hands out in front of her, raising her eyebrows at me with a slightly wondering pout. “And while we wait I could show you parts of the house?” She twirls around in an unsteady circle like some stupid ballerina. Slipping my hands around her waist and dragging her a bit closer to me, she falls directly down into my awaiting arms. I lean closer to her face, my curly hair tickling against her soft skin makes a chuckle escape her as I place a quick peck on her lips. 

“Let’s go then,” I laugh, pulling her up from the cliché position and intertwining her fingers with mine as we walk through the entrance’s see-through doorframe and into the kitchen, which, as I quickly detect, also functions as dining and living room. The room is what I’ll call enormous—and I’m pretty used to living in proper luxury by now. The essence of the room literally spells out just how many money the Moreau family has on their bank account: Furniture in the finest shapes and drawings are placed all around the place and the porcelain already standing ready on the long, dark brown mahogany table speaks clearly for itself. I’m not trying to describe the place as some old billionaire’s mansion, but the place is still so much more stylish and chic than the average Parisian home.

“Living room, dining room and kitchen,” Gabrielle speaks, pointing towards the different parts of the room as she speaks. With a slight pull in my hand and a step in a new direction she leads me towards a wide staircase in the middle of the living room, running up of it in a few swift footsteps and shortly afterwards entering a new room through a beige-painted door.

The bedroom we’re standing in is rustically made of grey bricks and on the most outer side of the room is a grand window, giving you the ability of having a full overview of the street just outside. A large, fluffy bed adorns the center part of the room’s dark wooden floor and a full-body mirror is being supported by the wall to keep its balance just by its side. On the floor there’s a few thrown-around clothes, but no major mess is annoying your eyes—not that I care, though. I’m a teenager: A messy room is a part of my life.   

“Harry, my bedroom. My bedroom, I present you to Harry,” Gabrielle says with a smile on her pink lips. “Now relax, look around; feel free to do what you want.” A fearful look shows on her face when she sees the cheeky grin slowly spreading on my lips—by now she has learned to know that when the red lamp has started blinking in the back of her mind, I’m up to something.

As I decrease the small distance between us, she worriedly takes a step back. “No-no-no. No! Do not— Harry!” The last part comes out as a squeal when I rage forward and firmly put my hands on her hips, starting to tickle her whilst the curls on my head falls down over my forehead, slightly covering my eyes.

“Too late!” I laugh.

When Gabrielle takes a few steps back, we quickly move backwards. Suddenly our legs hit the soft edge of her bed and we flop right down onto the red bed sheets, bodies completely entangled in each other. I loosen my grip of her and dump down beside her with a sigh.

Being the tickler can also be exhausting, you know?

Her face turns to the side, her dark eyes boring into mine. “Why’d you have to do that?” she asked, flinging her bottom lip out in a pout.

I raise my one eyebrow with an amused grin. “I could think of a few things way worse I could’ve done in your bedroom.”

“Ew! Get off me, you arse.” She slaps my arm with a giggle. Then, she tries to push me out of the bed, but her tiny hands doesns’t stand a chance against my strength. In stead, she decides on falling back onto her back beside me. She sighs, but the smile in the corner of her mouth is way too obvious for me to spot. “Pervert.”

I sneak an arm around her waist and with a thrust of my hand pull her closer toward me. Her head nuzzles into my neck, and soon enough I find her fingers intertwined with mine. We keep still for a while, no need for words to be spoken. The blessing of having her beside me is the only thing I can wish for.

“You know, this is the first time I’ve actually been inside your house,” I slowly speak, eyes still exploring the surface of the ceiling above. “Until now, it’s like you have always somehow chased me away when you’ve seen my face out on the street. I should really be here more often.”

Making my skin burn beneath her touch, she gently places a kiss on my temple. “Tell you what? It’s a deal.”

The doorbell pinches through the air, making Gabrielle jump out of our position and quickly rising from the bed. “That would be him. Let’s get downstairs,” she smiled.

I don’t want to frown, but I end up doing it anyways. “I don’t want to. Your bed is divine and if you think about it, your dad might kill me for doing this thing; dating you.”

A cute giggle slips from her lips. “Nah, I think he’ll rather kiss you. Even though he doesn’t admit it right when you ask him, he’s missed seeing me with somebody.” She reaches her hand out towards me, expectantly. With a small and slightly nervous smile, I grab it.


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