—————
"(Y/N), I think I'm going to lose it."
Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) tried to center herself before turning on her heel to face Priscilla. Finding her boss with the perfectly creamy and embellished bridal veil in hand, she could only imagine what kind of imperfections Priscilla believed she found in the accessory.
"What happened?" (Y/N) chirped, the feigned pleasantry coming as second nature at this point with how hellish these last nine months have been.
Holding up the veil with the sparkling adornments facing her, Priscilla's hands were shaking. (Y/N) couldn't tell if it was the three cups of coffee she made herself before they'd even left the villa for breakfast or if Priscilla was three seconds away from a legendary tantrum.
"I think they gave me honey pewter, and not the lavender pewter I asked for when I ordered," Priscilla rushed out, shaking the veil in (Y/N)'s face as if she could see the sparkles better if they were less focused, "Do you see that? That's going to throw off everything I had picked out for my bouquet!"
"Hold on, let me see," (Y/N) indulged her, grabbing for the delicate veil before her boss could have a chance to rip it to shreds. Angling the crystals to the light, (Y/N) could see some warmth in the jewels, but she remembers specifically making the order for Priscilla and emphasizing how important it was that the crystals lean on the cool tone (it was easier for both (Y/N) and the bridal shop to just do it this way, no matter if Priscilla was difficult during the entire process). There was no way this could have slipped by, especially with the amount of email updates (Y/N) requested for Priscilla throughout the entire making of her veil.
Pulling out her phone and swiping into her professional email, (Y/N) found the initial conversation with the bridal boutique owner, all the details of the order spelled out plainly before being verified by the owner. Inside the same thread, photos had been sent with very clearly lavender hued jewels stitched to the tulle inbetween the romantic pearls. Examining the photos further, (Y/N) couldn't help but notice that, aside from the crystals and pearls, this veil looked nothing like the photos she had received.
Priscilla's veil was supposed to have a subtle sheen to the fabric, chosen for the express purpose of emulating the way the Eiffel Tower sparkled at night which was exactly where she wanted to have her bridal shoot the day before the actual wedding. Minimal lace detailing was meant to border the entire hem, matching the delicate bodice of the gown Priscilla planned to wear during the ceremony. The veil in her hand had none of that, something she was surprised her boss hadn't picked up on, but was grateful for nonetheless.
Peeking over her shoulder, Priscilla was busy with her daughter, Lenore, as the toddler walked her around the room, pointing at every tiara and ivory gown the tiny boutique offered. At least she could count on baby Nora babysitting her mother when (Y/N) couldn't. With her boss distracted, (Y/N) went on her mission to find the salesgirl she'd just had a choppy, half-French, half-English conversation with.
"Ex-Excuse me?" (Y/N) muttered as quiet as possible before the girl could disappear behind a curtain taking her to the back.
"Oui?" she chirped, petite blonde brows raised.
Holding up both the veil and her phone, (Y/N) did her best to remember the two semesters of French she took in high school. "Le... Le voile? It's not... It's non, not right," she struggled through, pulling up the string of photographs of the correct veil on her phone in her other hand, "We need this one."
She watched as the salesgirl looked back and forth between the photos and the veil in her hand. "Comment tu t'appelles?"
"Um—its for Priscilla King?" Despite the fact she knew she couldn't butcher Priscilla's name like the French she didn't know, (Y/N) didn't feel confident saying much of anything right now.
"May I?" the girl asked in accented English, gesturing to the veil in (Y/N)'s hand.
After offering it up, (Y/N) watched as the salesgirl's eyes immediately dropped to the ticket looped around the comb attached to the veil. It only took a moment for the girl to turn the ticket around, displaying a completely different name on the tag.
They gave her the wrong veil.
"Je suis vraiment désolé," the girl bubbled off, muttering out something about bringing the right one before holding up one finger and disappearing passed the curtain.
(Y/N) let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
Priscilla had been a nightmare as soon as the real wedding planning started a year ago when she found out it was more than just looking at wedding magazines and telling her wedding planner what her budget was (there wasn't one). But, in the last few months especially, she had escalated into a territory that made even her fiancé cower when she was in one of her moods, and Nate was one of the most firm and level-headed guys (Y/N)'d ever met (he really had to be if he was going to be with Priscilla at all). And, unfortunately for (Y/N), since she was Priscilla's full-time personal assistant and part-time nanny, she got the brunt of it all.
At least with this, she wasn't going to get her head ripped off, unliked when they found out the venue had accidentally ordered one case less of the very specific champagne Priscilla insisted on serving. That had been one that even had Nora asking why her mom's face was turning so red over some bubbly water.
Stepping towards the case of the something blue's the bridal shop offered, (Y/N) caught Nora's attention first before her mom shot her a panicked glance when she noticed there was no veil in sight.
"Everything's okay," (Y/N) shot off before her boss could say a thing, "They brought us the wrong veil on accident, but I showed her the pictures and emails, and she's getting yours right now."
"So, no honey pewter?"
"Nope. And, there's going to be lace trimming."
"Oh, thank god," Priscilla exasperated, looking much too relieved over this simple of an inconvenience. "(Y/N), I don't know what I would do without you; I'd probably lose my mind."
(Y/N) refrained from telling her she most likely already did long before (Y/N) entered the picture. Instead, she plastered a smile on her face and hoped they would make it back to the villa in time to take a nap before she would be on Nora duty while Priscilla and Nate had a final meeting with their wedding planner before guests started pouring in tomorrow for the start of the three day long celebration leading up to the actual wedding on Friday.
"You know I'm always happy to help."
—————
(Y/N) sighed as she stood outside of the banquet hall's bathroom. As soon as the guests started pouring into Paris this morning, she had been on Nora duty while Priscilla and Nate ran around with the wedding planner, leaving her to entertain the toddler for hours. Now, she was left exhausted as she lent against the elaborately carved wall of the hall, watching as the bride and groom welcomed their guests in before a dinner and cocktail hour would be served to kick off the next couple days worth of celebration.
"Nora, sweetie," (Y/N) called, turning to face the heavy wooden door to the restroom, "do you need help?" It'd been longer than five minutes, which was cause for concern for the easily distracted Nora.
"No, I'm just wiping!" Nora chirped through the door, much too loud given the echo provided by the looming hallway of the banquet hall. (Honestly, the space was basically a cathedral, as far as (Y/N) was concerned. Stained glass windows were placed high on the intricate walls, tinting the vaulted ceilings in shattered hues. This place was much more than a banquet hall, especially if the deposit for one night was anything to go by).
The sound of a huffed chuckle came from behind (Y/N), the laugh getting her to instinctively turn on her heel. She had an apology poised on her lips, a reciprocating smile that said "kids, right?", but as soon as she caught who was behind her, she stopped a breath short with her lungs stunted.
Dressed in a raspberry blazer, gold accents stitched through the seams with curling brown hair held back only by a pair of large sunglasses, was Harry Styles.
Harry actual Styles. In real life.
(Y/N) didn't have a chance as soon as she caught sight of that curving smile, dimples and all, as he advanced down the hall to the men's bathroom just to the side of her. She was sure she looked like a guppy with the way she gaped her mouth open as if to say something before snapping it closed.
Sucking in a deep breath, the air coming in prickles through her throat, she did her best to form a coherent thought. "Sorry, she's just..." (Y/N) breathed out, an absent smile plucking at the corners of her lips as he came closer. He really did have the smallest group of freckles dotted over the bridge of his nose.
"'S alright, it was funny," he told her, voice deep and rich. It was familiar to her—at least as familiar as a voice could be when only previously heard through a pair of headphones or a speaker.
With that, he slipped around her. A polite, lopsided smile was on his lips, as he disappeared into the restroom.
(Y/N) stood in shock, watching at the bathroom door closed heavily behind him, only a flash of the blazer and the flare of his pants seen before he was gone.
That was Harry Styles.
What was Harry Styles doing in Paris? What was he doing at this venue in Paris? Priscilla and Nate had rented out the whole space for the entire night, so no one outside of previously RSVP'd wedding guests should be here.
There was no way he had been invited to the wedding, though, right? Priscilla surely would have mentioned if she knew Harry Styles at all, let alone well enough to invite him to her one-hundred dollar per plate, per course, per person wedding. Right?
(Y/N) even helped her mail out invites and had passed along the final seating chart to the wedding planner, she couldn't have missed a name like his, right?
Just then, Nora popped out of the bathroom, tiny fingers grabbing for (Y/N)'s hand before (Y/N) had even noticed she was there.
"I'm ready now," Nora chirped, already tugging (Y/N) back to where the bride and groom were shaking hands and hugging guests, welcoming them into the space.
Though her brain was still a bit rattled (she had literally been listening to his music just this morning as she got ready and now she was sharing the same air as him), (Y/N) escorted Nora through the fray of guests until they had reached her mom and dad by the entrance.
"There you are!" Priscilla beamed as soon as she saw her daughter, reaching her arms out to pick Nora up and sit her on her hip. "Got everything taken care of, Nori?"
"Yeah, now I have room for dinner," Nora smiled, nothing short of proud of her accomplishments in the bathroom.
Priscilla only laughed along with the guests that were slowly shuffling through the entrance that had caught the exchange, bouncing her daughter on her hip before turning to (Y/N). As soon as she caught sight of her assistant's face, the dark arches of her brows came together in a pinch.
"Is everything okay, (Y/N)?" she asked, stepping out of line and letting Nate field all of their relatives and friends for a moment.
(Y/N) floundered as she tried to find her voice, her mouth suddenly dry as the memory of him was brought to the forefront of her mind. "I think... I just saw Harry Styles by the bathrooms."
"Oh, is he here already? I don't remember saying hi." With Nora hooked over her hip, Priscilla stood on the toes of her heels, eyes scanning over the hall in search of the head of brown curls (Y/N) could probably point out from memory.
"You know him? He's really here for the wedding?" (Y/N) questioned, trying to keep her jaw from dropping.
"Kind of," she shrugged, dropping her search to match (Y/N)'s wide gaze, "Nate knows him better than I do, but yeah. His firm reps Harry, but they don't see each other too often. It's mostly through his manager, but Harry's always friendly and super kind when he comes in; he's so good at remembering the weirdest things Nate mentions in passing. We decided to invite both of them."
(Y/N) didn't want to admit that she knew exactly who Harry's manager was and was excited at the thought of Jeff also being in attendance of the wedding.
"I can't believe you've never told me," (Y/N) gaped, "You've heard me listening to his stuff all the time, and you never said anything. I helped with the seating chart and I didn't even notice his name!"
A soft smile worked its way onto Priscilla's lips. "I know, I thought that was weird, but I figured you'd find out soon enough. You should talk to him more; he's really nice, (Y/N)."
"I can't talk to him," (Y/N) immediately shut her down, remembered the way she looked at him like a guppy during the whole two second interaction by the restrooms. A wonderful first impression.
"Why not?" Priscilla pressed, painting a bright smile over her face when one of her relatives skated passed their conversation.
"He's Harry Styles, I can't talk to him," she reasoned though it sounded silly out loud. That thought was only reaffirmed when Priscilla gave her an arched brow and a quirked smile.
"Whatever, (Y/N)," Priscilla sighed with affection for her assistant, "We'll be here for a few days, so I doubt you'll be able to avoid him much, but I'm excited to see you try."
Shaking her head, a short smile tugged on (Y/N)'s lips. "You want to see me suffer."
"No, I would never," Priscilla waved off, "Nora likes you too much for me to torture you. But I enjoy seeing you torture yourself over silly things like this."
Before (Y/N) could give any kind of smart remark back, Nate beckoned Priscilla back to the fray, where an elderly couple (Y/N) remembers as Nate's great-aunt and uncle was waiting to greet the bride. Priscilla gave them a wave before turning to (Y/N) one last time, something wicked turning the very corner of her mouth.
"Have fun."
With that, she walked back to join her groom, Nora on her hip waving to (Y/N) over her mom's shoulder.
—————
"This way, this way, s'il vous plaît!"
Tearing her eyes from the Degas painting hung up high on the gallery wall, (Y/N) followed the guide that was touring their group through the Louvre. With Priscilla, Nate, and Nora spending the day with their families before the craziness of the pre-wedding shoot tomorrow and the big day on Friday, (Y/N) was given somewhat of a day off of all her duties. After forwarding Priscilla everything she might need while filling out some of the marriage paperwork that went along with having an abroad wedding, she was left to either go on the wine tasting at one of the beautiful vineyards outside of Paris, or on a guided tour of the Louvre—both booked and paid for by the bride and groom so their guests can enjoy a taste of Paris as a thank you for spending their special day with them. As much as (Y/N) would have loved to get a little day drunk at a French vineyard, she didn't trust that she wouldn't be on Nora duty later in the evening. Instead, she packed herself onto the shuttles with some of Nate and Pricilla's family and friends that would take them to the art museum.
Now, almost an hour into the tour, (Y/N) wished there wasn't a guide telling her when to move on from each room and where to go next. Of course each room was teeming with people just as excited to see the classics as she was, but that didn't diminish any of the magic she felt staring at the pieces, a tiny plaque next to them detailing out the title and materials used with a famous artist's name attached. She was currently entranced with the Degas paintings of all the tutu clad ballerinas—dramatic in the value but tender in each stroke—and didn't want to go before she had a chance to get a look at each and pretend she was there in the opera house watching those girls perform.
But, as she had found during the beginning of the tour, the guide wasn't going to leave without all members of the group with them. He would stand at the threshold of the next room, mega-watt smile on his face as he waved his little orange flag above his head, beckoning the group to come this way, this way! It was easier on everyone if she said her quiet goodbyes to her favorite pieces with a lingering glance and a photo on her phone before joining her group.
Before she could pout any at the loss of the Degas paintings, the guide directed everyone with a bright smile into the next long hallway. In here, marble statues and sculptures were dotted around the space, standing proud and glimmering in the sunlight filtering through the open windows. The space was otherwise sparse, leaving all attention onto the legendary figures planted across the room. Though she heard the tour guide spouting off facts and details about how important these statues were, how they came to be in the Louvre's possession, and some of the techniques that helped them come to be, (Y/N) didn't hear anything coherent. She was too busy trying to keep her jaw from dropping.
How could anyone manage—especially with tools that weren't anywhere near as advanced as what was at an artist's disposal now—to make stone appear soft and pliable, full of curves and gentle give? Nothing was as breathtaking as seeing the hand of a sculpted man holding his lover by the thigh, his fingertips denting deep against her flesh, only to be reminded from the glimmer from the sunlight, that this was nothing more than stone manipulated to mimic human skin.
As soon as she heard the guide announce in his accented English that the group was free to roam around the hall, take photos and explore the pieces, she all but bound away from the group. She made a beeline towards the statue that caught her eye the second they slipped into the room.
Large, sprawling wings sprouting from Cupid's back almost looked large enough they could graze the ceiling as the marble swooped down in the shape of a muscled arm as he cradled his lover. Pysche was wrapped in nothing more than a sheet, the marble somehow looking thin and delicate like the silk that was meant to be draped over her waist in a cradling hold. Cupid held her gently as he craned his neck, trying to reach her lips and revive her with a kiss as the title of the piece suggested. They were trapped in that one moment, not close enough to share their kiss, but just near enough (Y/N) could see and feel the anticipation shared between the two mythological figures.
"'S crazy, isn't it?"
The same deep voice that made her breath catch not more than twenty-four hours prior brought (Y/N) back to the real world in the middle of the museum. Whipping her head to the side, she saw Harry Styles once again sharing the hall with her.
He wore wide legged jeans with holes over the knees and a faded, vintage looking t-shirt with bunnies graphically printed along the bottom hem. A brown tortoise clip disrupted the flow of the line of rabbits as it was pinned to the bottom as well, bunching the fabric enough to reveal the waistline of his Gucci branded pants. The same large sunglasses she had seen him with last were perched on the top of his head, holding back the iconic brown curls he was known for.
"What?" she asked, the sound of her blood pumping past her ears having drowned out everything he had to say the second she realized who he was.
"The sculpture," he smiled, nodding ahead to the marble gods, "'S crazy people can look so real when they're made out of stone like that. Even the blanket she's wearing looks like 's about to float away, even though 'm sure 's easily over a hundred pounds."
"Oh," she chirped, clearing her gaze with a blink before she turned back to face the sculpture that had captured his attention. Neurons fired in her brain, pushing her to find something to say that wasn't about how much she loved him or oh my god, you're Harry Styles, what are you doing out of my phone screen?! "Y-Yeah, definitely. I've always thought it was interesting the way these people were able to make rocks look so soft. I don't understand how, but I like looking at it."
A dimple dented his cheek, that much (Y/N) could see from the corner of her eye. His arms crossed over his chest made him appear even broader than photos granted, even as he shifted his weight on long legs that toed at the ground with a hip pushed outwards. "I know what y'mean. I've tried painting something like this a few times, and I can't even get something that's actually soft to look the way this marble does. I don't think 's real; we're not supposed to touch, only because if we do, we'll find out 's all actually made out of sponges or something."
A smile quirked (Y/N)'s own lips at his joking, a stifled laugh exhaling from her nose so as to not disrupt the quiet that filled the hall. "I think you might be on to something," she told him, exaggeratedly looking around the hall as if trying to spot eavesdroppers, "I'd be careful with that information, if I were you."
A peek of his white teeth appeared from between his raspberry lips as he nodded to her joke, leaning into the secrecy they were creating over the subject. A short silence fell between them as they resumed looking at the sculpture, (Y/N) peeking at the plaque beside the statue though she couldn't comprehend anything knowing who was standing beside her.
"You're friends with Nathan and Priscilla, right?" Harry asked, side-stepping into her space though he crooked his head, making it apparent he was looking over her shoulder at the plaque.
"Yeah, I guess" she mused, impressing herself by how normal she was appearing through this conversation despite the rattling of her heart in her ribcage. "I'm Priscilla's personal assistant, and sometimes nanny for Nora. We're basically family at this point."
"Oh, so you're (Y/N), then." Harry pulled his attention from the sculpture, looking to her with a bright smile and something like recognition going through his gaze as he trailed his eyes over her face, placing her for the first time.
"I am, yeah," she smiled back, feeling her skin warm at the fact Harry Styles knew her name and had some idea of her existence.
"Nathan's mentioned you a few times. Supposedly, y'keep Priscilla's head attached to the rest of her, and keep her from biting off Nate's when she's had a day." She couldn't help but think he sounded almost impressed. If only he knew what it was like to work with Priscilla day in and out, then he really would be impressed.
"I wouldn't say that...," she trailed off, feeling a little too proud to completely deny the hard work that went into her job. "Nate's very good at calming her down, too. So is Nora. I'm just the first one she goes to with her problems."
"See? That says it all," he pressed, dimples denting his tanned cheeks, "If y'weren't so good to her, she wouldn't go to you before finding Nathan."
She liked when he said it like that. It made her feel important, even if she was nothing more than a little speck in Priscilla's grand life.
"I guess so," she whispered.
Flicking his gaze from the statue back to where she stood beside him, he offered his name in a low voice: "'M Harry, by the way. Realized I never introduced myself even after I creepily guessed your name."
The loud laugh that bubbled out of her chest had little to do with the joke he tacked on the edge of his introduction, and more to do with the fact Harry Styles had just offered out his name as if she was one of the point-two percent of people in the world who wouldn't already know who he was. He was just as polite as all the twitter threads and articles suggested.
"Nice to meet you, Harry," she reciprocated, trying her best to keep her face from warming the longer she looked at him. His nose really was just as perfect in person as she'd seen in photos.
If she looked at him long enough, pretty features on a broad body hidden under soft tufts of clothing, (Y/N) could see him blending in with the perfect statues around them. Fluffed spikes of marble would emulate the curls on the top of his head, hard corners carved from the stone would be the only thing could could accurately display the quiet strength in his form. Even the length of his pink shoelaces wound through his worn Vans could be perfectly carved from small strips of marble. He would blend right in with Cupid himself, only missing a pair of fair wings drawing from his back.
Before their conversation could go any further, (Y/N) was broken out of her stupor at the sound of the accented English of their gallery guide calling for everyone to reconvene at the other end of the hall. She swore Harry's gaze lingered over her for just one extra moment before he followed her eye towards where that same little flag that was being waved over their guide's head as their group was directed "this way! this way, s'il vous plaît!".
It was an unspoken moment as they fell into step with one another going towards the threshold to whatever was next on the agenda, (Y/N)'s strides much slower as to match Harry's that was lingering despite the length of his legs.
"Bummer, right?" he offered in a quiet tone as they were still steps behind the last stragglers of their group.
"Hm?"
"I was hoping he'd let us stay in here a little while longer. I was having fun," he told her, the curl on his lips just as secret as his muted tone.
"Maybe he'll let us roam around on our own at the end, and you can come back," she told him, trying to rein in her hammering pulse from the way he seemed to be sharing something secret with her.
"And, you'll come with me, right?"
(Y/N) didn't have a hope in the world to stop her rattling heart and stunted lungs at his request.
"Of course," she said in a pitched tone, heart racing too fast to listen to anything their guide was saying as their group was directed towards the next room, "I wasn't done looking at them, anyway."
Harry ignored the hooked thumb she threw over her shoulder in the direction of the couple of myths suspended in marble they had spend their time in front of. Instead he had his gaze pinned on hers, seemingly ignoring everything else.
"Me neither."
—————
(Y/N) was relieved as she stood behind the line of the camera, watching as Priscilla posed and primped in front of the lens. The Eiffel Tower stood in the background, large and just as romantic as Priscilla had gushed over the second she pitched the idea of a bridal shoot in front of the landmark. With the right editing, the phots were going to look dreamy and worthy of being splayed across bridal magazines for the next decade, at least.
Plus, when she was busy being pampered over, Priscilla didn't have time to continue the inquisition she had started the second (Y/N) climbed into the taxi that morning.
Somehow, word had gotten back to Priscilla that Harry Styles and her assistant had spent almost all of the tour of the Louvre together, giggling and whispering over quiet jokes and fonding over the same art pieces. And according to Priscilla, that meant they were in love and had been keeping the secret from her.
That's why (Y/N) treasured this reprieve behind the scenes, stepping back whenever a makeup artist came by to touch up the powder under her boss's eyes or a hairstylist perfected the waves that rippled her dark hair. She didn't need Priscilla feeding into the crush that was beginning to take ahold of (Y/N)'s heartstrings every time she thought of how she spent her time the day before.
That is until her name was shouted across the set. A flash of Priscilla's dark hair was all could be scene as she disappeared into the impromptu changing stall that had been set up by the team hired to perfect the shoot.
(Y/N) sighed before resigning herself to standing outside the stall while Priscilla shouted to her through the sheet, asking for more details of the 'date' she had been on the day before.
"Yes?" she called to her boss once she was on the other side of the familiar stall while Priscilla was helped into her second wedding dress (she had three looks all together that would be shown during the big day, and she wanted to make sure she had wonderful pictures of each of her gowns).
"Tell me what happened in the sculpture room again," Pricilla demanded, "I want to know exactly what he said. And how he said it. And where he was looking when he said it."
Remembering the way Harry had stood beside her, admiring Cupid and his love (which she later found ironic considering he had a role acting as his own version of the god) brought a shiver to her heart. The sound of his voice dropping next to her ear was vivid enough in her memory that she couldn't believe Priscilla hadn't already heard it with the way it echoed in her head.
Still, even with her hammering heart and uneven filling of her lungs, (Y/N) shrugged. "I've already told you everything he said. We talked about the sculpture and then how I knew you and Nate."
"And that was what had him following you through the rest of the museum?" Her tone was incredulous, (Y/N) not needing to see Priscilla's face to know how scrunched and petulant her features probably were. The spitting image of Nora when she was having a tantrum.
"I guess so."
A loud groan could be heard alongside the sound of a zipper lacing together. "C'mon, (Y/N)! Give me something fun!" she called, "It's my wedding week, and this is how you treat me? Not giving me even a little crumb of what it was like flirting with him in the middle of Paris?"
"That's because we didn't flirt, Pris. We talked about paintings."
Drawing the curtain aside in a harsh pull, Priscilla was unveiled in her second dress of the day, this one large and tulle filled with sheer panels on the bodice. Despite being dressed like an angel, the grump on her face was the perfect juxtaposition that described her boss.
"Then why did Nate tell me his cousin saw you two huddled away while everyone else was looking at the Mona Lisa?"
(Y/N) tried to recall when they had even visited the Mona Lisa, but every memory after the sculpture hall was more focused on Harry than anything else. She couldn't help but see him in every billowing piece of art, abstract or realistic.
"Oh my god," her boss chirped, features lighting up at something (Y/N) must have missed.
"What?" (Y/N) asked, about to look over her shoulder. Maybe the Tower had sparkled to life early?
"You made a face!" Priscilla bubbled, reaching for (Y/N)'s shoulders before giving her a little shake, "That's what I was looking for! You don't even remember seeing the Mona Lisa, do you? You were too distracted by your new boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend—I don't even have his number, or anything."
"But you were distracted with him, weren't you?" The silence (Y/N) offered was enough to have Priscilla rocketing with glee. "I knew it!" she beamed, clasping her hands together with her manicured nails gleaming in the French sunset, "Are you going to dance with him tomorrow? I can change the seating chart with Adelina and make it so you're seated together for dinner if you want. Oh my god, I cannot wait to tell Nate 'I told him so' when he finds out you're seeing Harry."
(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh at the miles and miles ahead of herself Priscilla was getting. "I don't think you can tell Nate anything considering the only place I'm 'seeing' Harry is at your wedding tomorrow."
"Exactly," she cemented, trailing over to where the photographer was calling to his muse to resume her posing, "You should be thanking me for getting you a date to the wedding. So last minute, too."
Before (Y/N) could offer any kind of retort, Priscilla slipped into the same thing that had earned her her fortune in the first place—modeling. (Y/N) could only stand behind the photographer and the line of lighting equipment, stewing in the heat that reached her cheeks at the idea Pricilla put in her head of dancing with Harry tomorrow at the reception.
Sure, maybe he would say hi at the ceremony tomorrow, but she couldn't see herself as being more than someone to spend the tour of the Louvre with, to him. Even if the idea of knocking elbows with him on accident while they ate dinner got her heart bubbling with a rush of blood through her body.
Paris was perfect for dreams, lovely romantic ones especially, but there was no reason to think Harry Styles was going to be anything more than a perfect addition to those dreams.
—————
"Why aren't you in your white dress?"
(Y/N) tucked Nora in front of her as staff from the venue rushed passed them through the hall, arms laden with bouquets of flowers Priscilla was sure to through a fit over if she saw they still weren't set up. In front of her, Nora almost tripped over herself as she looked over her shoulder at (Y/N), a fluffy lavender dress on her toddling form.
"Your mom is the only one who gets to wear white today, remember?" (Y/N) prompted, pulling Nora to walk again at her side with her hand outstretched for the little girl to wrap her palm around her fingers, "She's the one getting married, so she gets the special dress."
"Oh," Nora sounded, bright blue eyes shuttered by an owlish blink. "When are you getting married, then? Are you going to wear white, too?"
Despite having started coming around just when Nora was getting into her curious phase, non-stop questions flooding from her mouth with little filter, (Y/N) never tired of her prodding. Drawing her into one of the many private rooms attached to the venue where Nate's and Priscilla's families were gathering before joining the main hall before the ceremony, (Y/N) tried to figure out how to explain to the toddler there wasn't a wedding of hers that needed to be worried about.
"I'd have to trick someone into marrying me first before I have those answers for you, sweetie," (Y/N) joked with a soft laugh, a tease that went right over Nora's head as she looked up at her with her Bambi eyes.
"Why would you trick someone like that?"
(Y/N) stammered, mouth dropping into a guppy gape as she tried to talk her way out of a bad joke to tell to a toddler. "I—It was..... You're right, Nori," she relented, walking to where the little girl's maternal grandmother was waiting with a bright smile on her face at the sight of her granddaughter, "That would be mean of me."
"Yeah. My mommy told me you have a boyfriend too, so it would be mean to trick someone else into marrying you when I'm sure he would want to marry you."
Priscilla was lucky she wasn't here, otherwise she could be getting a glare full of daggers for telling Lenore something as silly as that, especially knowing who Priscilla was telling the toddler was the boyfriend in question.
Before (Y/N) could say anything to dispute the case, she passed Nora off to her grandma. As she fielded questions about Priscilla's state the morning of the big day, (Y/N) decided she would have to wait on gently scolding her boss until after the ceremony at the very least.
—————
(Y/N) did her best to keep her tears at bay as she watched Priscilla and Nate exchange vows, Nora sat in her lap with her eyes pinned to her mom and dad finally marrying after hearing about this impending wedding for two years (though (Y/N) was sure she could only really recall the last year's worth of memories with Priscilla running around frantic and Nate following in an apologetic wake). Vials of sand that represented each family member were now swirled together in a jar beside the officiant, symbolizing the union of their entire family through this marriage, one that couldn't be separated. The weather was perfect out in the vineyard Priscilla snagged a year and a half in advance of the date, just warm enough so she could blame the heat covering her skin on the sun and not the lump forming in her throat.
As hard of a time as she gave Priscilla and the chaos that had filled her work for the last year, her boss was one of the closest people in her life. Seeing Priscilla so happy with someone like Nate—her perfect counterpart—, being married in the most beautiful place, her dream wedding come to life, was enough to have (Y/N)'s eyes sopping with unshed tears.
Watching them be announced husband and wife, Nora joining them on their descent back down the flower petal studded aisle, (Y/N) finally allowed her tears to fall. Her eyes followed them along with the rest of the guests as the little family disappeared inside the winery. Gentle instrumental music struck up before ushers made their appearance and began herding the guests to the east side of the rustically French building, ivy and lavender sprigs clinging to the siding that would be the backdrop for the cocktail hour that would commence while Priscilla and Nate reveled in the newly married bliss and took a few photos before the reception started.
These moments were the hardest part about going to family events with Priscilla: the mingling. As familiar as she became with certain figures in her boss's life, it wasn't like these were her family and friends. Her closest friends in this whole ordeal were tucked away in the bridal suite while (Y/N) was left to snack on cucumber sandwiches and tiny flutes of wine, lingering by the side of the winery while pretending to clack away on her phone. Here and there, familiar faces greeted her, chatting about the beautiful ceremony and how cute it was for her to keep ahold of Nora while her parents were busy otherwise. (Y/N) of course thanked everyone, reiterating that the ceremony was very beautiful, yes, Priscilla's dress was gorgeous, wasn't it?, and the menu for dinner sounded better and better the longer they stood out in the Parisian countryside. As soon as the dead air appeared, they would share goodbyes and chat with you later! before heading off to another group of people to share the time with.
Of course, this was the one hour during the entire week that Priscilla wasn't in dire need of her, leaving her to her own devices as she read the same three emails over and over to busy herself.
Until, of course, her name was called from one of the small cocktail tables a few feet over, a head of brown curls popping up over the crowd as she searched for her caller. A ringed hand waved to her just as one of Pricilla's college roommates moved out of the way, a giggling whisper shared with whoever it was that was at her side when the woman caught sight of who she was blocking.
Harry, clad in a creamy white suit (he was very lucky Priscilla hadn't caught him, otherwise that ensemble would have been stained red with wine or something even harder to get out of the fabric) with a bright smile on his face, dimples deep in his cheeks, as he called to her. At his side was Jeffery Azoff, who (Y/N) was almost as excited to see in person as she was when she met Harry himself. He beckoned her to him with a wave of his hand, green nails sparkling in the golden hour sunlight.
"Hey, you," he greeted her, a grin with his two front bunny-like teeth on display, "Been waiting for m'turn to talk to you since the ceremony ended."
(Y/N) couldn't contain the smile that spread over her lips at his words, his eyes pinned to her with the full of his attention, the same way everyone always described when meeting Harry Styles. No distraction could pull his attention from someone he deemed worthy of it. "Really?" she asked, hoping he didn't pick up on the dreamy quality of her tone.
"Yeah, was jus' telling Jeff all about all the fun we had with Jean-Pierre the other day," he teased, the green of his eyes glimmering with inside jokes they had tittered over in the marble halls.
"He hasn't shut up about it for the past forty-eight hours, actually," Jeff chuffed, mirth in his eyes as he glanced at his friend, sipping from his wine, "I was hoping you could take him off my hands. At least you'd get all the jokes he's telling."
"I don't know," (Y/N) shrugged, tension releasing from her muscles as she folded her arms over the surface of the table, "I don't get half the jokes he tells, either."
Feigned offense piqued on Harry's features as he looked between them, mouth dropping open though he couldn't quite erase the slight curl on the corner of his mouth. With the single strand of hair that fell over his forehead, he looked entirely too dreamy in the middle of the French countryside. Once again, (Y/N) found herself grateful over the fact Priscilla hadn't caught him in his ivory ensemble—having a deep red wine stain on his suit would surely ruin the effect.
"Heyyy," he whined, a pouting crease forming between his pinched brows, "That's mean."
"You've told the same jokes for the entire time I've known you, H," Jeff pressed, a fond smile on his face as he gazed at his friend though he didn't stop his teasing, "and every time you tell them, I still don't get it."
Before Harry could interject any more pouting, (Y/N) chirped up with a matching quirk to her lips. "Yeah, he did tell the same joke twice at the museum. A little bit of a repeater, he is."
"Oh, not you, too," Harry whined, dropping his head to be right in her line of sight. His smile was a little too bright, dimples a little too deep, eyes a little too clear to be convincingly offended. "You're supposed to be on m'side, (Y/N)."
The sound of her name wrapped in his voice was something that echoed in her head for the last forty-eight hours since she'd seen him. "I am, he just has some good points. Sorry, Harry," she told him, speaking low enough as if she was sharing a secret with only Harry.
Over the swirls of curls on the top of his head, (Y/N) could see the way Jeff was eyeing the interaction before adverting his eyes with a smirk on his lips before they were hidden by a cup of wine.
"Y'could make it up to me, you know," he murmured to her, his folded hands coming up to smush against his tanned cheek, altering the layout of the soft smattering of freckles on the center of his face.
"How?"
"Save a dance for me."
(Y/N) felt her lashes tickle her brow bone with the way her eyes widened, rounding and softening as she processed his request. She was sure that if someone showed her a recap of this moment, she would look like a moony teenager setting eyes on her crush for the first time.
Swallowing around her suddenly dry throat, (Y/N) nodded her head. "I-I can do that."
The way his grin stretched across his lips and the smallest dusting of pink coloring touched at the tip of his nose, could have had (Y/N) on a stretcher if not for the interruption that came in the form of one of the venue's staff tapping on her shoulder.
"Ms. (Y/N)," the staff member greeted her with a tight smile that did little to sully her accented English, "The new Mrs. Davies is requesting your presence very urgently up in the bridal suite. If you wouldn't mind excusing yourself, I can escort you up right away."
"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, deflating some at the fact she was going to have to leave Harry so quickly, "Okay, yeah. Give me just a second."
The staff member gave her a strained smile, but nonetheless took a step back. She felt for the girl, really; Priscilla was a piece of work when she wanted to be and (Y/N) had a feeling she was walking into something gruesome in that bridal suite.
Turning back to Harry, (Y/N) jerked a half-hearted thumb over her shoulder. "It sounds like I'm needed, so..."
She trailed off, not wanting to be the one to say bye. Harry seemed to feel the same as he ducked his head, obscuring her view of him with the cover of his hair. "I'll see you later, though, right?" he prompted her once he matched her gaze again, the blushing green peeking through the length of his lashes.
"Definitely," she cemented, taking the first reluctant step away from the table. Though her eyes lingered on Harry, she made a point to divert her gaze to her new friend of the day. "It was nice to meet you, Jeff."
"Nice to meet you, too, (Y/N)," he offered politely, a sly smile stitched to his features she had a feeling wasn't going to dissipate.
With one final wave, (Y/N) was beckoned by the staffmember back to the winery, hasty steps having (Y/N) all but tripping over herself to keep up. Just before slipping through the doorway, she couldn't help but toss a glance over her shoulder, finding Harry with his arms crossed over the cocktail table, grapeleaf-green eyes pinned to her. It took a matching of his gaze and a punch to his shoulder from Jeff before Harry came to his senses. In the waning light, his already golden skin was amplified, but (Y/N) could still see the tint of pink that dotted his cheeks and touched at the tip of his nose.
—————
"Thank you," (Y/N) muttered as she left the kitchen with a lukewarm plate that held her dinner she should have eaten hours ago.
Trudging through the reception hall, music drifting through the room with the raucous laughter of both tipsy and sober guests clashing against the melody, (Y/N) couldn't decide if her head was going to pop first or if her feet would give out before then. She knew that wearing these heels gifted by Priscilla for her last birthday, red-bottom and all, wasn't going to be the most comfortable and arch-supporting idea, but that had been before she knew she was going to be more of a planner than a guest to this event.
While Priscilla was spending treasured moments with her husband, both behind the bridal suite doors prior to the reception and in the guest-filled banquet hall, (Y/N) was filling every role she could to help. Fussing over Priscilla was a given, so carting glasses of wine back and forth and directing the photographer on what shots her boss had specially requested be taken was something she had prepared to do. But, it was when Nora was passed off to her during Priscilla and Nate's first dance, and never quite passed back once the toddler started having too much fun at a grown-up's table, that (Y/N) knew she wasn't to have a moment to herself for the rest of the night. Just when she thought she was in for a slight reprieve when dinner was served, something she could enjoy while also taking care of Lenore, Adelina, the wedding planner, had pulled her to the side. (Apparently, there was something awry with the wedding cake, but Priscilla didn't need to know about it if everyone wanted to keep their heads). That was how she ended up passing Nora off to her grandparents and her first course back to the kitchen staff, asking them to keep it warm for her so she could have it later, after she dealt with the tiered spongecake that had melting buttercream and slouching fondant decorations.
It seemed that one favor she did, signed her up to be Adelina's assistant for the rest of the evening—or at least until everything settled down with only drinks and snacks being enjoyed among the guests. She was kept busy with every minute detail that began to run off the rails, things that didn't need to be shared with Priscilla but were much too important to leave alone. Even the photographer, the ever careful Frenchman who had the fear of God in his eyes every time he looked at Priscilla, had asked for her opinion more than once with (Y/N) practically directing the day's photos by the time ten-thirty rolled around.
That was something else that tugged her muscles down by the root and threatened to drop her through the floorboards if her exhaustion grew any heavier. One of the perks of this venue—and the hefty deposit Priscilla made on the space—was the lack of clear out time. Wine and food were just the things to persuade guests into lingering on the property, which is exactly what they did, especially when additional courses of finger foods and desserts were brought from the kitchen and the bottles of wine and champagne were endlessly supplied by the vineyard. Looking out onto the dance floor and the semi-full tables surrounding the space, (Y/N) didn't see an end in sight.
But, Nora had been taken back to the hotel and tucked into bed by Nate's parents, leaving at least one responsibility off her plate. The photographer seemed to find his footing the more he realized Priscilla preferred her left-side and would enjoy any photograph of she and Nate kissing. Adelina had calmed down the second most of the traditions of the wedding were filed through—the garter-toss was one of the most nerve-wracking moments for some reason—as guests began reclining and holding separate courts at all the tables and others dotted the dancefloor to indulge in wine-induced dance moves. Priscilla had even settled well as she slow-danced with Nate, especially after changing into her third and final dress for the event, the fringed hem dropping to the mid of her thigh and sparkling under the romantic lighting draped across the rafters. (Y/N) lingered, on-edge, for an extra half-an-hour before finally treating herself with the task of picking up her food from the kitchen and settling in one of the back tables that had been vacated as children's bedtime had approached.
With a barely filled glass of red wine and a lukewarm plate of pasta in front of her, (Y/N) dared to slip her shoes off under the table before folding her legs underneath herself.
She didn't even know how long she had been menially scooping up her food, not even tasting the fine ingredients and expensive spices or how well they paired with her given wine, too exhausted to really process much other than finally having some subsistence in her body. That was why she barely noticed the knock of someone's knees against the underside of the table as they slipped into the spot beside her, the gentle voice having to call her name twice before she perked up.
"Sorry, what did you need he—Oh, Harry," she smiled, pleased to see him when she had been expecting another person that needed her help.
"Hi," he greeted her, the word coming out breathy and merlot-tinted. That would explain his messy hair and glassy eyes. The flush that tinted his skin looked perfect with his suit.
"Hi," she reciprocated with a small smile, "Have you been enjoying the reception?" She had a feeling she knew the answer to that one.
Nonetheless, the floppy nod Harry gave her, curls skimming his forehead, still made her heart bounce. "A lot," he told her on a breathy laugh, before his expression turned sour with a downturn to his lips, "But, y'said y'would dance with me, and I've barely seen you. Had to dance with Nathan's great-aunt five different times just to feel something."
(Y/N) choked on the sip of wine she had tossed back while he spoke, clapping her hand over her mouth as she fought to keep from spitting it out. Once she recovered, a choked bunch of air filling her lungs, she shook her head at him. "I'm sure you did feel something," she teased, twirling a meaningless bite of pasta around her fork, "she's practically in love with you. I heard her talking to Priscilla's cousin all about you and how she was somehow going to fit you in her pocket and take you back to the hotel with her."
"I wouldn't put it past her," Harry started grimly, fully believing Aunt Rosie's besotted threat.
"And, I wouldn't blame her," (Y/N) muttered, the words falling out before she had any clarity of mind to stop them.
A brilliant smile woke up Harry's grapejuice softened features. "Really? Want to take me home in your pocket, too, then?"
Caught, (Y/N) didn't have it in her to pull her eyes from her plate of food though she shrugged in response. "I don't have any pockets, so I'll have to fit you in my tote if that's alright."
"I can work with that," Harry shot back immediately, sitting up in his chair before scooting closer to (Y/N), folded arms settling on the table. "Do y'have extra room at your hotel, or will I have to sleep on the floor?"
Her face felt hot as she couldn't help but take his intoxicated flirting right to her heart. "I don't have lots of space, but I'm sure I could figure something out for you."
He seemed all too pleased with her response, bunny-teeth trapping his bottom lip between his teeth. Unable to draw her gaze away from his mouth, the very middle of the pillows tinted plum from the wine, (Y/N) draped her eyes over the faint freckles dotting the pink skin. Cute.
"If you're not too busy still, maybe I could redeem m'promised dance once things slow down again?" Harry's voice was only a whisper that hung in the air between them, almost drowned out by the loud laugh that originated somewhere on the dance floor.
"Yeah, yeah," she rushed out on a breath, hoping Harry wouldn't notice how eager she was to agree incase it was just as embarrassing as it sounded, "I would really like that."
She would think she would be used to the look of his bright smile by now, with the amount of times she'd been granted the sight throughout this week, but it still threaten to knock the breath out of her to have it directed at her.
"I'll keep an ear out, then," Harry told her, leaning back in his chair with his gaze going to the dance floor, staying true to his word of keeping watch, "Y'finish eating, though, before someone has a chance to steal y'away again, saying they need help with the music again or something. Barely had a chance to eat tonight."
A pinch collected between her brows as she canted her head to the side. "How did you know I had to help with the music?"
Another heart-stopping smile worked its way on Harry's lips though he kept his gaze attached to the dance floor. "I've been paying attention to you all night, (Y/N)."
—————
(Y/N) perked up at the change in tempo that sounded from the front of the banquet hall, a handful of couples still occupying the space while others were retiring to tables as the night drew on. Priscilla and Nate seemed to be in their own world wrapped in each others arms with no sense of time. But, for the first time in the last twenty minutes, their slowdancing finally matched the song that filtered through the speakers.
Dropping her fourth glass of wine onto the table, the alcohol sloshing dangerously close to the rim as she clumsily stood up. "Harry, Harry, hurry," she bubbled off as she fumbled to put her shoes back on her feet, "We can't miss this one."
"Miss what?" he asked lamely from where he sat, mouth dropping to a gape as he looked up at her.
"The song—listen! We missed the last, like, three slow songs I think. We can't leave until I make it up to you for teasing you earlier."
Harry's memory seemed to come back together at the mention of the song, his ears all but physically perking up for the time since he dropped the ball on his job of keeping an ear out for a suitable song to pull (Y/N) to the floor with. "Oh, yeah," he blinked, standing up with his knees knocking the table in his haste, "Get your shoes on. Hurry."
"I am, I am," (Y/N) badgered him, squishing her toes into the silk covered shoes.
As soon as she was upright on the stilts of her heels, she grabbed for Harry's hand and tugged him to the dance floor. The other couples made a small space for them to join, even if they were clunky on their feet while others had sobered some through the night. (Y/N) tried to recall everything she remembered about slow dancing with a boy as best she could, middle-school rules coming to mind first as she placed her hands on the broad of his shoulders. A breathy laugh fell from her partner's lips as he tugged her closer, setting a gentle grip on her waist.
"This alright?" he asked her, looking down at her with glassy eyes though that didn't fog the crystal green of his iris.
"Yeah, thank you," she peeped, enjoying the press of his rings through her dress. "I should probably tell you I don't know how to do this, so I'm going to step on your feet at least twice."
Harry didn't seem at all bothered by the shortcomings of his partner, instead dropping his head with a brush of his forehead against hers as he laughed. "I don't even think I'll notice."
It was with that, Harry started swaying her off-beat, going against the grain of the rhythm the couples around them had curated. Neither of them paid it any mind, (Y/N) honestly not even noticing until she caught sight of Priscilla and Nate twirling out in a completely different flourish than what Harry had her doing.
"I think we're going the wrong way," (Y/N) whispered with a giggle, using her grip on Harry's shoulders to tug him down to her level.
"Are we?" he beamed at her, not even daring to look around the floor, his eyes pinned her with no sign of removal.
"Mhm," she hummed, biting back her smile despite the way it still stretched across her cheeks.
The only movement of his eyes came as they dropped down the planes of her face, charting every dip and curve before settling on her lips for a lingering moment. "Should we change that?"
"Maybe."
Just like the placing of her feet (though she'd only stepped on his toes once so far, that she knew of), (Y/N) wasn't even aware as she tugged him down with her grip on his shoulders, making his face level with her's for a breath. A skim of the tip of her nose against his was the final touch before she was pressing her lips to his. The wine they had shared from her glass was now sipped from each other's kiss, plummy and warm. (Y/N) drank from his lips as she sealed a kiss against his lips, tipping her head just right to get a little more of him without getting too ahead of herself in the middle of her boss's wedding.
Harry's hands on her waist was the anchoring touch as they resorted to just soft sways out-of-time with the song picked by the DJ. Warm breaths that were exhaled out of his nose fanned across her skin, with every matching tilt of his head. He didn't want to pull away, that much she knew from the way he clung to her form and the shallowness of his breaths the longer they kissed.
If not for their location, (Y/N) would have tried to figure out what the wine tasted like from his tongue. Instead, she forced herself to draw back, Harry following after her though he only managed to touch his forehead to hers.
"My boss is over there, otherwise..." (Y/N) trailed off, her lashes threatening to tangle with his from the proximity.
Something a little too smug curled at his lips. "Otherwise? I can work with otherwise."
Just in time, the set changed, turning into something much more uptempo that had Harry dragging her from the dance floor. (Y/N) swore as they passed Priscilla and Nate that her boss gave her a raise of her brow and practically-staged glimmer in her eye.
The privacy of their little table in the back washed over them as Harry made a point to drag her original seat to sit right beside his, the legs getting crossed over one another. That made it all too easy for him to drape her leg over his knee, just where he settled the warm palm of his hand. Now that the wall was broken, the flirting having opened a gateway with the kiss being the perfect key to get through, Harry didn't hesitate to touch over her skin.
'When are you leaving Paris?" he asked her, his filter gone along with the boundary they had burned on the dancefloor.
Reorienting herself as she reached for her glass of wine, (Y/N) tried to remember what day it was. "I think I'll be here for another week or something. Pris and Nate want to have some of their honeymoon with Nora before I need to take her home and they can be newlyweds."
He hummed as he took in her words, his tongue peeking out as he swiped the tip of it along the plush of his now swollen bottom lip. "Then, I'll leave in a week or something, too."
(Y/N) blanched at his proposition, not quite following where he was going. "What?"
"Y'won't have Lenore all the time, right?" (Y/N) shook her head. "Maybe those days, I can keep y'company instead. There's a lot of Paris I haven't seen yet, and 'm sure you've been too busy to explore either."
Though she doubted that Harry Styles—world-touring recording artist who was known to slip away to foreign countries for weeks at a time without being spotted—had anywhere left in Paris to explore with her, the idea appealed to her nonetheless. It wasn't like the Louvre was the only art gallery and this winery the only vineyard.
"Really?"
Harry nodded his head with a set in his jaw. He was determined when he was tipsy. "'M sure we'd still see each other back home, but I don't think 'm ready to leave Paris if you're not going as well."
The implication that he would still reach out to her once they stepped back on home soil, that he was sure they would see each other then no matter what, was enough to have a warmth hitting her features that the wine could only dream of inducing from her.
"Ye-Yeah," she nodded, her heart bubbling in her chest, "I can let you know when Nora is with her parents and we can meet up. Maybe not tomorrow morning because I think I'm going to be a little hungover and exhausted, but everyday after that. If it's alright."
The way he leaned across her draped legs, hand cradling the hinge of her jaw, an intoxicating kiss to her lips was enough of an answer. (Y/N) didn't bother to ask again even after he pulled away.
Priscilla was going to have a field day with this.
—————