Paris In The Rain [h.s]

2

"I'm Harry Styles. The artist."

Those same words kept replaying in my head as I stare at him in awe. There's no way I was standing in front of the artist who created these masterpieces. It was a thought that couldn't seem to wrap my brain around, "You're the artist?"

He nods his head, staring at me with a look in his emerald green eyes that I couldn't seem to describe. I watch him as he takes the empty glass of champagne in my hand and exchanges it for a glass of wine, taking one for himself as well.

"I liked how you described my paintings," Harry says, taking a sip of his wine, "It makes me feel like I've succeeded."

I hum in response, moving on to the next painting. He follows closely behind me and watches my face as I observe it, "Succeeded in what exactly?" I glance at him from the corner of my eye, noticing he was staring at me intently.

"Making people feel a certain type of emotion when they look at my painting. I'd be afraid if they felt nothing at all," he chuckles softly, "What type of emotion do you see in this one?"

My eyes roam over the painting, taking in the colors and the model. Although the face almost always gives it away, this one was different. This time the person wasn't showing their face, only just barely half. The only thing you could see was the corner of their eye. Their face didn't need to be shown to understand what type of emotion was being portrayed, the body language giving it all away.

"At first glance you would think it portrayed melancholy by the way you used different shades of blue, immediately hinting at sadness. Looking at it closer, you can see that it has nothing to do with any type of sadness.

"It simply portrays tranquility. The model is at peace with the world as they look out into the great beyond of the ocean, feeling as calm as the waves washing ashore," I explain, feeling myself rambling on. I hesitantly turn my head to look at him, wondering if maybe I'd completely butchered the true meaning behind the beautiful piece of art.

Once again, the look in his eyes was indescribable, making me feel a different type of nervousness I've never felt before, "How have I never met you before?" He asks with a slight grin, taking a small sip of his wine, the red liquid bringing out the already plump redness of his lips.

A soft laugh escapes my lips and we start walking together, seeing that I had reached the end of his paintings, "I'm here with a friend who knows your friend Louis," I tell him, earning a nod and a soft chuckle from him, "I never go out anymore so I thought that I would tonight. So far there are no regrets."

"That's always good to hear," Harry chuckles and my heart seems to flip at the simple sound.

We continue walking and talking together, Harry stopping and greeting people here and there. I spot Liam and Louis standing together as Harry is talking to someone and I walk up to them, deciding to get away from the crowd for a few minutes. I watch as Liam laughs at something Louis says, not intruding on their conversation.

"You're back! How'd you like it?" Louis smiles at me.

"All of Harry's art is amazing. I've never seen anything quite like it," I admit. Louis nods in agreement and places his arm around Liam's waist, the small action causing a blush to rise to Liam's cheeks.

The three of us make small talk while the crowd slowly gets smaller, hinting it was getting late. Harry was nowhere to be seen and I caught myself searching for him in the crowd more than once.

"I think we're going to head out. Do you want to join us?" Louis offers and I debate as to whether or not I was ready to leave.

I still wanted to talk to Harry for some reason. He seemed like such an interesting person and I'd love to hear about how he gets his inspiration, "No you two go ahead. I think I'm going to stay a bit longer," I reply after a second of hesitation, "It was lovely meeting you, Louis! I hope we can meet again soon."