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**

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45. Tricked

 

The glass lights up when I press the button with the engraved lines forming the number 14. Feeling power rush through the wires beneath my feet, the elevator shoots upward. Standing alone in the narrow room, I laugh when I think of how terribly claustrophobic Niall must feel every time he has to go to his room.

The boys and I have another night off without gigs, but when the four of them decided that they would go to Montmartre yet again to get dinner, Harry and I decided to just stay at home and grab a bite somewhere closer. We hadn’t gone out alone for a long time, anyway. This is the perfect opportunity to go for a get-away, even if it is just for one night.

A ding sounds from above and the elevator doors elegantly slide open. I step out of the lift, and eyeing the different doors down the hallway, I start towards room number 148 in my high-heeled stilettoes. I wait in patience after placing a light knock on the door.

Inside the penthouse, footsteps thud towards me. For a moment there’s some cluttering with getting the chain lock opened, but then the door creaks open and Harry’s curly head peers out. He lights up in a wonderful smile, dimples popping just the way I adore them the most. His glance scrolls down my body, slowly taking in my looks before at last drawing me in and placing a kiss on my cheek as his arm finds its way to my waist.

“Wow,” he admires with another smirk. “Babe, you look amazing.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” I say, referring to his simple white shirt buttoned opened a few holes, giving you just enough show of skin to catch sight of the upper edge of his butterfly tattoo. Combined with his usual skinny, black jeans and his seriously injured leather boots, his look stands out casually but yet manages to have a sense of formal. Which speaking of, I won’t complain about; my own tight-fitted black thing of a dress seeks a tad too much attention. If I remembered correctly, Perrie picked this one out for me in a shop when she was visiting us, telling me to buy it by instance unless I really wanted her to slaughter me—which clearly, I didn’t … group pressure always end up getting the best of me.

Harry guides me through the suite, arm pressing me close against his chest, placing a wondering look on my face. What’s he trying to do now? He’d said our dinner reservation was at 8 o’clock sharp. From now on that’s about 10 minutes until we have to be there. The open doors to the outskirts of the penthouse come into view alongside with a warm summer breeze sizzling through the air. I feel Harry’s hand squeezing securely on my waist and he draws a smile.

Stepping fully out onto the balcony, my mouth drops to my chest.

From one of the corners a familiar piano tune is playing, creating a sappy romantic atmosphere I strangely enough seem to like. Through the black night millions of flickering city lights are smiling back at me, lighting up the sky like tiny fireworks and in the middle of the rather large area, a single table is placed on the stone flooring, a snow-white dew sprawled across its surface. In between the few lit candles on the surface lilies pile up upon each other, the lingering fragrance embracing me like an ocean of smell. How does Harry know that those flowers have been my favorite since as long back as I can remember?

I spin around in his arms, awe-struck. “I thought we were going out?”

“This is out.” He points out the city and it’s burning lights in front of us, grinning widely. He must have known I would react this way.

“You know, I tend to like your surprises quite a lot,” I speak, thinking back to the ones he’s given me in the past. My head tilts backwards and I smile up at his upside down reflection. “I love you.”

His head dips and he presses a soft kiss to my lips. “I love you too. More than you know.”

My ears focus on the familiar piano tune blasting from the speakers. Suddenly I realize where I remember it from: Harry and I’s first date. In the park after dinner, on that pavilion placed in the middle of a black lake’s still surface.

“May I have this dance?” Harry seizes my hand, pressing a gentle kiss to it and bowing down in his proposal. I can’t help but to smile slightly at his cheesiness. He leads me out onto an open area of the balcony where the wind is blowing vigorously around us, making my hair seem more or so like Medusa’s. Thank God I chose to wear a tight-fitted dress instead of one of my many summer dresses—then I would defiantly have made quite a Marilyn Monroe-show by now.

Harry’s strong arms close around my waist and he draws me in against his chest. My cool skin colliding with his hot makes goose bumps tickle down my spine. Standing there in the warm embrace, we start swaying along to the graceful music.

Heart beats fast, colors and promises…”

I smile into the crook of his neck. “This might just be our song.”

“It’s been since I ever first danced with you to it.”

Even though the butterflies in my stomach are going crazy, I can’t help but to giggle at his words. Since when did he become such a great romantic? When we have these intimate moments, he almost always manages to come up with an incredibly charming and heart-melting comment. I wonder if it’s in his blood or something…maybe he’s related to Prince Harry? I don’t know about the orange hair though, because then he might as well also be related to Ed Sheeran…

I’ve told him before that he reminds me of the guys in sappy Nicholas Sparks’ novels (not that that’s not a good thing) and it’s slowly starting to dawn to me that he may just be my very own savior.

Harry moves his hands a little further down my back and pulls me closer. “You know you can trust me, right?”

I express a frown. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I? You’re you.”

His glance falls to the ground. Then again, he turns to gaze into my eyes; lips now pressed together in a thin line and forehead all furrowed up by an uncomfortable-looking frown. “Then please know that you can tell me everything on your mind…even your secrets.”

For a moment, I freeze in his arms. Startled, I wonder how he could get himself to tell me such a thing when he knows I won’t utter a word unless I want to. I thought that we had talked about this—more than once, actually.

Then, all of a sudden, everything makes sense. There is a reason of why Harry made this night happen: He asked me here because he wanted to get to know my “secret”. The dinner, the flowers, the music, it had all been to sooth me up so that he would get it out of me easier.

Something in my chest stings, aching with a mixture of furiousness and hurt. How could he get himself do this? Doesn’t he care about me and how I feel about this at all?

“Get off me.” I wrestle myself out of Harry’s grip, but my liberty only lasts so long before his hands are on me again and his strong arms have spun me around so that I’m facing him. Keeping my eyes locked closely to his, I still notice how his limbs have started shaking.

“No, Gabrielle, I won’t! I’m tired of this thing you’ve got going on; choosing my best friend over me because you feel more secure about telling him this very important thing than your boyfriend, you constantly lying to me, escaping from me whenever I try to discuss this matter with you? This is it, all right, I need to know. I can’t deal with not knowing any longer, why can’t you see that?” He turns around and furiously kicks his foot against the balcony’s stone rail. Breathing heavily in an out, he stands there still in motion. Suddenly the city lights in front of him doesn’t look so beautiful any longer.

“Don’t you think this has been hard on me, too?” I helplessly yelp, trying to explain myself.

Harry’s head snaps towards me, his eyes enlightened with something different and new. “It’s been hard on you?”

“Yes, it has! If have my reasons for not telling you about this stuff, and honestly I don’t want anyone to know about it because it’ll only be a burden to you!”

“You told Zayn. You’d rather tell him than anybody else, rather tell him than me!”

“Oh, are we bringing that up again?” I shriek. “I thought we had solved that thing!”

“Yes, Gabrielle, I’m bringing it up again,” he hisses while running a hand helplessly through his hair, “because I’m worried about you. I can’t see you loose yourself to something I’m not even able to save you from! I’m sick of all this—”

“She’s mentally ill!” I scream, not knowing what I have said before the words have slipped from my lips and it’s too late to take them back. I reckon Harry’s face twisting into a whole other and bigger emotion, but by then it’s already too late. I have almost turned my back on him.

“My mother, she’s mentally ill. I hope you got what you wanted,” I whisper, surprised of my voice’s grogginess. I swallow the lump in my throat and force myself to finally turn away from my boyfriend. Refusing to let any sign of a tear show in my eyes, I walk out of the door and slam it shut behind me. 

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