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**


5. Lunch went wrong


“I’m hungry…!” Niall groans and put a hand on his stomach, which instantly growls loudly by his touch. “See? I need to feed.”

Liam smacks his arms with a faked scared look painted on his face. “Don’t be such a vampire!” he says before breaking out into a smile. Giving Liam one heck of a surprise, Niall jumps onto the back of his friend and playfully bites his neck. “Ouch!” Liam squeals and rubs the sore spot on his throat, as Niall gets down from his back. 

“You sure I’m not a vampire?” Niall asks him and wiggles his eyebrows at him. Liam vigorously shakes his head as an answer.

“I’m gonna get some food!” Niall yells out before walking off the stage in a sudden hurry. The boys follow him right in his footsteps and for a moment I think they have forgotten all about my presence, but then Zayn turns around at the exit of the stage.

“Are you going to sit there all day or are you coming?” He grins and waves me over to him, letting me know he wants me to come with them for a bite lunch.

I sighed in relief. Not to be rude, but if he hadn’t called me over I might just have labeled them as careless and fame-searching arses. I hate to admit it, but I have always been judging people from the very first meeting. If I don’t like their behavior or disagree with their opinions, I have a horrible habit of stamping them as either reckless idiots or dramatic attention demanding teenage girls. I really have to stop thinking all of these things soon; always see on the bright side of life, right? I'm sure shutting out the inferior parts of life have within the last few years become my very own specialty.

The boys exit the stage, but it’s first when I realize I’m still sitting by the keyboard that I get up and follow after them in a few light, quick footsteps. When I reach them they are already walking down a long, narrow hallway that’s emptied of everything else except a single, tall stool standing in the end of it. The floor is of worn, black linoleum and the walls were characterized by its stained, beige painting. I hadn’t ever imagined that this is what the backstage looks like. In movies it is always big and glamorous, but in reality it's apparently the exact other way around.

Niall opens a door on his left hand and enters the room, the boys and I following straight after him. When we step through the door, the first thing we see is the blonde-haired boy already fixing himself a sandwich. It doesn’t seem to be going that well, though: The slice of bread he has cut himself is helplessly wry and his try of spreading peanut butter on the breath hasn’t been very successful. While the boys begin to make their own sandwiches, Niall keeps on ruining the slices of what used to be bread. “I give up. Someone fix me a sandwich!” he yells in protest against his own cooking-skills. I snicker and push him aside to make myself some more place. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take it from here,” I tell him and throw the remains of his sandwich into the nearest trashcan.

Whilst I make the sandwich I had promised away to Niall, I hear Louis and Harry establish an argument so stupid I can’t help but smile.

“Oh! Look, it’s peanut butter!”

“No, you idiot. It’s mayonnaise, everyone can see that.”

“I swear it's peanut butter. Just smell it!”

“Ew, no. Who would smell mayonnaise? It smells worse than your feet.”

“Haz, I’m serious. Just give me the jar and I’ll show you.”


“Give me it!”

My smile disappears when all of a sudden a large blob of peanut butter smashes against my cheek. I turn towards Louis and Harry with a blaming look painted on my face. Harry stares at me with an apologetic smirk on his face. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to—”

That’s when I take a spoonful of the peanut butter in my jar and throw it at him. Only it doesn’t hit my target, it hits Louis’ shirt where it smears across the blue and white-striped fabric, showing a large stain of yellow on the spot I accidentally hit.

“Oh my gosh!” I immediately exclaim. “That wasn't meant for you. I’m so sorry!” Before I can get to say anything more, Louis has taken some of his peanut butter on a spoon from the jar and thrown it right at me. 

“Food fight!” he roars, drawing everyone into the battle that quickly develops into a fight filled with dirty tricks. Soon my hair, clothes and face is covered in peanut butter and I think that there might even be small pieces of ham and bread stuck to the greasy substance. Of some stupid reason I can’t stop laughing; it’s not that I’m a shy girl, but I have only known these boys for about twenty minutes and here I am in the middle of food-fighting them. I would have expected myself to hold back a little, especially because they are as famous as they are and I was starstruck when I met them just a few moments ago, but I somehow manage to have a good time. I feel like I can just let myself go and enjoy the moment without caring about anything else.

“What’s this?” I hear a familiar Irish voice exclaim.

I look away from the boys and find myself facing a massively muscular brown-haired man. “Boys, enough with these food fights,” he reproachfully tells them, acting completely like he don’t see me standing there with them as their complicit.

“I surrender!” Niall girlishly shrieks and throws his hands up. “Sorry, Paul!”

“I was in it, too,” I deposit, taking my part of the guilt from the mess that is all around us. It wouldn’t have been fair if I kept still and let the boys take all of the responsibility on their own shoulders, so—

Oh gosh. Niall had called the man standing in front of me “Paul”. What if he happened to be Paul as in Paul Higgins, my new boss?

Then I guess we won't be off to a very good start: Here I am, all covered up in peanut butter and food particles after just finishing a big food fight with his five most important clients. I can’t help but blush when he reaches out his hand and shakes my hand. “You must be Gabrielle!” he says with a smile. “I’m Paul Higgins.”

“Yes, that would be me. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Well, this isn’t awkward at all.

Paul releases his grip around my hand and regards us all with an excited glimpse in his eyes. “Right. Now everyone, please get yourselves cleaned up and head for the stage. It’s time for rehearsals!” he calls us off. “A week from now you will all be standing out there in front of a massive crowd at your first gig, and you don’t want to disappoint them, do you?” We all shake our heads at him in reply. “That’s what I thought. You guys better prepare yourselves good and take your time learning the routines in the best way possible, okay?” We nod our heads in agreement. “Good. Now off you go!” 

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