The Love Club

Nineteen

I’m a little drunk, but Harry is, too. It doesn’t make the glances we keep stealing at each other any less authentic. 

We walk the streets of Paris bumping into each other side by side, his arm slung around my shoulder with our hands connected. Niall and Tinley are perhaps worse off on the sober train than the two of us, and we laugh as we watch Niall throw Tinley over his shoulder and haul her toward the Eiffel Tower, which has been our destination despite the fact that no one has spoken it aloud. When we reach the grass, Harry patiently pauses while I slide off my heels. The lawn is wet with early morning dew, but I don’t mind as my eyes follow Niall and Tinley’s silhouettes. She beats against his back, kicking and flailing to be let down, but they’re both laughing. I wish I could capture this moment and hold it with me forever.

“Are you still feeling poorly?” Harry asks low in my ear, and I try to refrain from shivering as the heat of his breath carresses my skin. 

“No,” I answer truthfully. When I turn to look at him, he’s already watching me with mild amusement.

“Might be the wine,” he offers.

I shake my head. “I’m not that tipsy,” I tell him. 

“Me either,” he admits. Up ahead, Niall loses his footing and trips, Tinley landing on her back while Niall thuds to the ground on his stomach. I wince and Harry laughs. “Can’t say the same for those two.”

We both quicken our pace to catch up to the couple tangled up in one another and caught in a fit of laughter. I roll my eyes and Harry makes a tsking sound, but wastes no time in sitting down beside them. He motions for me to join him, and I do, allowing him to pull me down between his two legs, which are folded up with his knees on either side of me. I lean back and he locks his arms around my shoulders. He’s warm and comfortable, and I’m further gone in the scent of his cologne than I am on the chardonnay from dinner. 

I feel light and effervescent as I study the national landmark before me, lit up for the evening. The stars are harder to make out through the haze of city lights, but if I squint my eyes just right and focus hard enough, I think I can make out a few. Niall and Tinley are still quietly giggling beside us, but I don’t mind. I can’t think of a time in the recent past that I’ve felt this happy. I lean my head back against Harry’s chest and hear his erratic heartbeat. When I tilt my head to look at him, he’s already watching me. 

“What are you thinking about?” I ask him.

“Everything,” he responds. 

“You really know how to paint a picture,” I roll my eyes, and his chest moves as he laughs. 

“I’m thinking about how much it costs to keep the Eiffel Tower lit up, how bad I am at speaking French, how lovely you look in that dress, where I can find the best maccaroons, when the best time would be to kiss you, and how long the drive to Amsterdam will be,” he lists off. 

“Hmm,” I hum.

“What are you thinking about?”

“The amount of wine Niall has had to drink, what time I should call my dad in the morning, if I’ll ever come back to Paris, how dumb I’ll look when I stand up and the dew has soaked through my dress, and when you’re going to kiss me.”

“Hmm,” he counters playfully, brushing his lips against my neck. My head falls to one side to allow him more access. He sponges kisses along my collar bone, working his way up my neck to my jaw. When I turn to him, he’s ready to accept my lips. 

We indulge in each other for a few moments. I sigh into his mouth and he swallows the sound, his hand helping support my chin in the right direction. I pull away when I need oxygen, and he sounds winded from the awkward angle at which he’s bending down to meet me. I smile at the sound of his ragged breaths, allowing one final peck on the lips before I return to my previous sitting state. He takes a deep breath and his arms settle back around me.