Golden [h.s.]

30. sinful

quick note — since Ella and Harry are going to be in France for these next few chapters, there'll be a few times that Ella will speak French; once I post, I'm going to quickly go back into the comments and give a quick translation! (i didn't wanna do it in the middle of the story)

enjoy!!!

I spent the night over at Harry's apartment that night since we were leaving so early in the morning.

I'm not by any means a morning person, but I woke up in a chipper mood, even 10 minutes earlier than Harry and his alarm.

I had took the extra time to admire the man beside me, his arm thrown over me as he snuggled up into my side.

His pink lips were parted and he was breathing so softly. My heart warmed as I looked at him; I couldn't believe I was going to be spending a week in France with him. My life the past two months just hadn't seemed real.

Harry woke up not too long after, breaking out into a wide smile as his eyes settled on me. "France!" He grinned up at me. I laughed.

"Not even a good morning?" I teased. "France, here we come!" I squealed.

I smile to myself. We were now in the black car heading to the private airport with Tom driving us. The sun was beginning to rise and I gazed in awe at the beauty of it as we crossed the river. Tom met my eyes through the rear-view mirror.

"Pretty, isn't it, Miss Ella?" He asked me, smiling at me. I smiled back.

"So pretty!" I gushed. Tom laughed.

"Not as pretty as her, right, Tom?" Harry asks from beside me and I feel the heat rise to my cheeks. Tom shakes his head.

"No, definitely not, Mr. Styles," Tom answers. I smile back at him.

Tom is an absolute sweetheart. He raised his eyebrows this morning at me when he came to pick up Harry and I — I guess it wasn't too much of a surprise that Harry and I are together, seeing that Tom had been in the middle of our endless back and forth those past few drunken nights I ended up at Harry's apartment.

Harry smiles warmly, reaching over to grab hold of my hand and intertwines our fingers. The action makes my heart swell. We pass over the bridge, making our way onto the highway.

"I can't believe we're leaving the country," I say softly, turning over to look at the beautiful man beside me.

He's wearing dark grey sweats with a bright yellow sweater. His curls are messy, but in the way that I love so much. His eyes are that beautiful mossy color today, twinkling as they catch in the light.

"I'm excited for you to see it, France is beautiful," Harry replies to me with a smile. "You're going to love it."

"Belle," I whisper with a smile, speaking in French. Harry smiles wider.

"You know, you're going to have to teach me some more French while we're there, you only ever really speak it in your sleep," Harry notes and my eyes widen.

"What?" I ask, narrowing my brows. Harry laughs.

"You speak French in your sleep! I hear you almost every night when you stay over, except the other night when you went out with Lydia. You were out like a light," Harry laughs. Tom laughs in front of us as he drives and I flush, reminded of the crazy night that happened only a day or so ago.

I had no idea that I spoke French in my sleep, nonetheless the fact that I spoke in my sleep in the first place. I suddenly remember about the few times I heard Harry call for me in his sleep.