It felt like it would never come, but the day is finally here and Harry and I are on the plane, about to take off. There's no turning back now.
I secure my seatbelt across my body when the pilot says we're going to be taking off soon. I try not to focus on the fact that I'll be in the air for multiple consecutive hours. This isn't the first time I've been on a plane, but I really don't like flying.
"You nervous?" Harry asks me, gently brushing my arm with his fingertips.
"No." A lie. Having Harry next to me is only making me more anxious and him casually touching my arm definitely isn't helping.
"You tell a bunch of lies, Tomlinson," Harry replies, laughing. "I know you hate flying."
"Yeah well at least I didn't lose my shoes that were on my feet," I retort.
Harry holds his hands up in mock surrender. "Whoa whoa," he says. "Sensitive subject."
I laugh at him and realize that Harry distracted me from taking off, and we're already airborne. I gaze out of my window unbelievingly. The first time I'd flown, I hadn't paid much attention to how gorgeous the sight was, but now I can see the full beauty of it and it's breathtaking.
But then I turn my head to the left and there's a whole different type of breathtaking beauty when Harry smiles at me. His eyes are like green voids, and I find myself lost in them. His messy brown hair curls in soft tendrils that frame his face.
"So get this," Harry says, and goes on to read some dumb fact on the Eiffel Tower. I don't reply to him right away, so he prompts,
"What do you think?"
I think I love you, I want to say. But I hold off. "Fascinating," I say instead, sarcasm ringing in every word. Harry scrunches up his nose and makes a face at me.
"Well, I think it's interesting," he says, turning back to his magazine. I study him as he reads until he looks up and I quickly turn away.
"You're unnerving me," Harry says, poking me. My face burns at being caught. I wait for my cheeks to return to their normal color, and then I turn around and poke him back.
"It's been four years, I need to get used to what you look like again," I say, deciding to turn it into a joke. "If anything, it's easier to bear your hideous features now that I've grown."
Harry scoffs at me. "Hideous? Please. You wish you could look like this," he says, making a stuck-up face at me. He looks so good today, better than usual if that's possible. I want to kiss him.
"Let's watch a movie," Harry suggests when I don't respond right away.
"Okay," I agree. Maybe than I can focus on the movie instead of Harry, who's inching closer and closer to me by the second. Harry wants to watch some rom-com, so I sit back and try not to laugh at the romantic things the guy tries to do for the girl. Every time he tries to do something nice, it ends up going wrong.
Kind of like me and Harry. Halfway through the movie, Harry casually lifts his arm up and settles it around my shoulders. I look over at him questioningly, but he's engrossed in the movie. I wonder if he even realizes what he's done. I stay still, hoping he'll leave his arm where it is. He does.
I lean into him a little and I see him smile when I do it. He's warm and familiar and smells just like he did four years ago; the cologne he always uses brings back memories.
Harry winces every time the killer appears on the TV screen, and I smile fondly at him.
"It's okay, babe," I say. "It's just a horror movie."
"I know," Harry says, hiding his face when the killer pulls a gun out from his coat pocket.
I move closer to him and cuddle right up against him. He wraps his arm around me and I inhale deeply. His cologne tickles the inside of my nose as I appreciate the way Harry's muscles tighten when he tenses up.
"Checking me out, Tommo?" Harry asks, his voice raspy and gorgeous.
"How can I not?" I reply. Harry smirks and kisses me on my forehead.
"You're pretty hot yourself," he responds.
I look nervously at Harry, a little worried he can read my mind at times like this. When the movie's over, I'm disappointed. Now I won't have any reason to be this close to Harry. But Harry doesn't remove his arm from around my shoulders, so I stay where I am for the rest of the plane ride.
When the plane lands, I'm reluctant to leave and I think Louis is too.
"Paris, here we come!" I exclaim as we step off of the plane and into the fading light of the evening.
"You're such a loser," Louis tells me as we wait for our baggage to appear on the carousel.
"I know, but that's why you love me," I joke. Lou flushes and hides his face from sight. He grabs his suitcase and mine and insists on carrying them both. We find a taxi to take us to our hotel and we both collapse into the backseat tiredly.
I hold a small conversation completely in French with the driver while Louis watches me with wide eyes.
"I thought you didn't know French," he whispers when I lapse into silence.
"I learned a bit online so I wouldn't look dumb," I reply.
"Could have told me," Louis says, folding his arms across his chest. "Now I'll be the one looking dumb."
"I'll teach you some, I promise," I tell him.
"There is one thing I know that's French," Louis says, smirking.
"What is it?" I ask.
"I'm pretty good at French kissing, if I do say so myself," Louis responds, waggling his eyebrows at me suggestively. I feel a blush creeping up my neck, and I will it to go away.
Before I know it, the taxi has pulled up in front of our hotel, and we pay him and hop out before walking inside. The lobby is impressive, with four walls of mirrors and a gold ceiling that takes your breath away. I check in while Louis busies himself sitting in every chair and sofa in there, trying every one out to figure out which one is the comfiest.
When I get the room key, I call him over and we take the elevator upstairs to our room. The lobby is nothing compared to our room. The huge bed is smack in the middle of the room with a huge TV across from it. The bathroom is huge, bigger than the one at my mom's house. The kitchen is already stocked with complimentary food and drinks, and the wet bar is fully stocked as well. Louis lies down on one of the elaborate couches and sighs happily.
"Perfect," he declares.
Yes you are, I want to say. Instead, I flop down on the big bed and close my eyes. A minute later I feel Louis lay down next to me.
"Looks like we'll be sleeping together for the next two weeks," Louis says. I know he's joking, but I still blush. Louis just grins when he sees me blushing. I swear that boy lives to embarrass me. He vaults off the bed and to the suitcase which he had unceremoniously dumped on the floor the minute we had entered the room.
"Get up, Harry! We have to explore Paris," he says.
I smile at his enthusiasm and roll off of the bed. "What do you wanna do?" I ask, running my hands through my unruly hair in an attempt to quell it.
"Let's just walk around," Louis says. "Sound good?"
I look at his angelic face, his blue eyes that hold so much joy and laughter, and his brown hair which is sticking up in multiple directions from the plane ride.
"It sounds perfect," I reply.