“Beautiful city, beautiful girl.” Harry smirks, pulling me against him as we walk along the river.
“You did not just say that.” I roll my eyes, but my cheeks blush bright red anyway.
“Sorry, I’ll keep the romance to the minimum, I can tell its very out of place here in the city of love.” He sticks his tongue out at me and I giggle, shaking my head at him.
The city of love, huh? I’m in Paris with Harry….Charlie’s in Paris with Harry. If Lola was here, she would be pushing Harry away from her, telling him she shouldn’t lead him on, she can’t be with him like that, the emotions are too much.
We arrive at the Pont de l’Archeveche, or rather the Love lock bridge. But it’s barricaded off, reminding me of the article I read online about it collapsing under the weight of the locks…or the love, in essence. I know what that feels like.
“Dammit, I really wish I’d put a lock on before it broke.” I frown as we keep walking, crossing over to the left bank. Paris truly is one of the most amazing cities, from the Louvre to the Champs-Élysées, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more buzzed on culture. Harry insisted on going slightly out of town that afternoon, we caught a taxi which must’ve cost him a fortune because we were driving for at least forty minutes. He had the driver drop us off on the end of a dead end street, out in the middle of nowhere. When I step out of the car, I feel very ‘Hannah Montana goes to Nashville’ or wherever the fuck she’s from, because my heels that were perfect for a stylish stroll along the Seine are no longer suitable, and the sound of a cow mooing in the distance is perfect proof of that. Where the hell am I?
Harry just smirks at me as he takes in my unimpressed expression.
“Styles, what on earth are you playing at? Have you brought me out here to kill me?” I question, tugging my jacket tight around me, it’s fucking cold and the wind is wreaking havoc with my hair.
“Shhhhh. Lola would object to a casual hike in the country but Charlie isn’t.” He smiles proudly, pleased with himself. Dickhead.
“I’m in heels! I’m not hiking!” I scoff as he starts walking away from me, onto a dirt path towards the trees. I trail after him, sticking my hands out to balance myself as I walk tepidly along the beaten track, Christian Louboutin definitely did not have this in mind when he was designing this peeptoes, and he’s even from France.
“Yes you are. Look in your handbag.” He turns around briefly to chuckle at my awkward walking.
I roll my eyes, pulling my bag off my shoulder and opening it to find my vans tucked neatly beneath my wallet. Sneaky.
“This does NOT fix this whole situation, but thanks.” I say, begrudgingly.
“You’re welcome.” He smiles, knowing I wasn’t really thanking him. I sit down on a cut-off tree stump to change shoes.
I suddenly regretted changing out of my comfy jeans and anorak outfit when we’d arrived at the hotel and into my pink matching midi and skirt, with a black trench. I thought since we were in France I should at least attempt to measure up to the high-standard Parisian style.
“Come on, no excuses now. Ready for some fun?” He holds his hand out, helping up now that I have secure footing in my vans.
“Mais bien sûr.” I grin, almost purring as I try to sound très très French.
“Translate?” He entwines his fingers with mine tightly, radiating warmth and I lean against him as we walk through the trees.
“But of course.”
YOU ARE READING
Acquaintances
FanfictionSequel to Friends. Charlotte Jones was hopeless in love, that much was evident. She'd hoped that by ending all ties to the two people she'd only truly cared about but had hurt her repeatedly, that it would all go away- her feelings for them, her pa...
