Locker 17

Chapter 89

*Harry's POV*

"You have the itinerary right?" Louis asks when the car starts to moving. He's worried that I haven't planned this whole shit out but I have. The hours I spent organizing how all this shit is supposed to happen wasn't just to waste time.

"Yeah I do. Just leave it all to me, I have everything settled. No worries." I assure him. I don't want him to think that things will go wrong, they won't.

"I'll take your word for it. Anyway, what kind of rich family did you make the reservations with?" He's clueless, completely clueless. The look on his face when he sees the place will be priceless.

"Dunno."

On our way to the famous, fancy hotel I reserved, Louis was to busy looking out the car window to even pay attention to where we were going. As we approach the hotel we soon find out that the famous Eiffel Tower is located only a few miles away from it, what a view.

"Why are we at a hotel?" Louis looks up at the tall building right in front of him. He didn't realize it was a hotel until he finally stepped out of the car and stopped admiring the twinkly lights of the city.

"Surprise." He turns around, eyes widened, and lips parted in amazement. Priceless. He doesn't hesitate to jump into my arms as a thank you for the kind gesture. What else did he expect?

"Did you really expect me to be separated from you in this city to be with a French family who you'd probably be miserable with?" He lets go of me, stopping the tippy toeing on his feet to reach me.

"Should've known better, darn." He teases. I take his hand and lead him inside the building. We see the last at the front desk on the phone, we walk over to her and wait for her to finally get off the phone. This is where I put the French that I've learned to the test to impress the socks off of Louis, even if it's only two words.

"Louis Tomlinson et Harry Styles s'il vous plait." Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles please. The lady at the counter gives us both warm smiles when she sees that we're holding hands, at least people aren't as judge-mental here as they are back home. I'm liking Paris already. She hands us the keys telling us what floor our room is at. The key in my hand has the number of the room, 90. The front desk lady said it was on the ninth floor, not too high up. High enough to get a good view of the city streets and panorama, not too high to have to wait in the elevator longer than we should.

"Trying to impress me with your lack of French aren't you Harry?" Louis mocks next to me as we walk to the elevator, the man behind us following with a cart that contains our bags.

"Caught." I admit. The elevator doors open right when he's about to speak, instead of continuing and making it awkward for the man with our bags, we both stay quiet until we get to our room.

"Ready?" I make sure he's ready to witness whatever is inside, he's expecting a luxurious room but not a suite.

"Ready." I place the key in the key hole, old style no fancy card slides here, and open the door dramatically slow creating momentum. I don't bother looking inside, I'd rather witness another one of Louis' priceless facial expressions. He walks inside the room along with the man that carries our bags, laying the bags down on the floor and leaving. Soon after he leaves I close the door behind him, I turn back around to find Louis staring intently out the glass windows, taking in the view of the city at night.

"Breath taking isn't it?" I whisper behind his ear, leaning down on him. I wrap my arms around his waist, something out of the movies or some shit 'cause this was really unlike me. Maybe it was the city, the city was bringing out this softer side of me, Louis in general was bringing it out. And I was liking it.