Hello lovelies!,
and welcome to the first chapter of my story 'Take A Trip To Paris' or 'TATTP'.
Hope you enjoy it, and i'd love it if you guys vote and comment on most of the chapters, because it really means a lot to me!, You'll probably see a lot of before chapter talks, kind of like this one!, it'd be helpful if you read those too, they do contain some pretty awesome information. But sometimes i just blabber on about things.
Hope you all LOVE this story!, and i'm excited to see what you think!
Love, Izzie. xo
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“it is going to be the trip of a lifetime, Avery, just take it”
“I can’t Jason, I really can’t”
“Just get your ass on that plane, Avery”
“I am NOT going to Paris without my parents knowing about it, what if I… get kidnapped or something?”
“Jesus, it’s an all paid for ticket, hotels, everything, it’s all taken care of, you need to just get out of here”
“It’s not like I’m running from the police, Jason”
“listen, I don’t care, here, here is your goddamn ticket-“ Jason hands me my ticket, and securly wraps my hand around it.
“I’m not going to France, Jason”
“Yes you are, Avery”.
“you’re my brother, you’re s’post to WANT me to stay!”
“I WANT you to go, this is the best thing you will probably ever do”
“I’ve never hated you more in my life”
Jason laughs at me, and then hands me my three red suitcases.
Okay, I wanted to go to Paris, but after my parents found out that I was planning the trip, they went all out ‘stop-Avery-from-leaving-home’ on me, and took my ticket away.
And now, my darling of a brother had paid all the expenses on his account, just to let me get away.
Jason knew that I was always dreaming of going to Paris, he knew that I just wanted to pack up and leave. And once he found out that mum and dad had taken my worked-hard-for–ticket, he did all of this organizing, and now I was standing at the airport gates.
“go!-“ he urged, pushing me through the security check, I looked back at him
“Thank-you” I say, before I step through the metal detector.
“now, go and fall in love”
I rolled my eyes
“just because it’s called ‘The City Of Love’, doesn’t garentee me finding love”
“Do me proud, and kiss someone on top of the Eiffel Tower”
“you’re an idiot” i laugh, and straight after, I get pushed forward by angry passengers.
“BYE!” he calls once more, before i disappeared through the boarding gate.
"seat 2… row 5."
"Seat 2 row 5."
"Seat 2… row 5."
I said the numbers over and over again in my head, scanning the aisle for that damn seat.
I actually can’t believe I’m doing this. What was Jason going to say to my parents?, it was a bit late for them to stop me now, and I don’t plan on coming back for a while, I don’t even have a return ticket.
I’m going to have to get a job over there, and just raise a shit load of money, and then get home somehow.
I finally locate my seat, and place my carryon next to me.
The first thing I do is get my ipod out, okay, I’ll admit it, I’m a music addict.
I flicked through all my playlists.
Two Door Cinema Club.
The Wombats.
Bon Iver.
Lisa Mitchell.
Vampire Weekend.
Young The Giant.
Ross Copperman.
Maroon Five.
Jack Johnson.
The Kooks.
One Direction.
I stop there. hey, I haven’t listened to them in a while, and it seems like the only thing that’s appealing to me at the moment. It’d be nice to listen to them on this long ass plane ride from Los Angeles to France.
Fifteen hours, to be exact.
Before I get lost in my music, I check what was on the television, luckily, Jason had gotten me first class tickets, and sitting in here made me feel like a bloody potato.
i watch the news on the mini t.v in front of me, and plug in the plane headphones into the portable listening device, and listen to it carefully.
After what felt like ten minuets, the story on the news changed to a French one, and also it was lucky that I spoke a little French, (like I said, I’ve been DREAMING of this trip since I was ten) and I smiled at the ironic-ness of One Direction appearing.
“Paris se réjouit d'accueillir une direction dans leur pays de la chance, toutes les préparations sont fixées pour les boys band populaire, nous vous verrons bientôt,les garçons!”
Paris is looking forward to hosting One Direction in their lucky country, all preparations are set for the popular boy band, we'll see you soon, boys!
It was roughly translated to.
I’ll admit it, I was kinda excited that I was going to be in the same country as them, it was pretty ironic.
Suddenly, my listenings are interrupted by a giggiling from behind me.
I roll my eyes, some idiot teenagers are making fun of the French accents on the T.V, saying things like
“it’s sounds like she said pants”
and
“I think she has something stuck in her throat”.
Jesus, people these days just don’t have any class do they?
I plug my headphones into my ipod, and place them into my ears, smiling as the song ‘moments’ instantly plays, which means it was the one I played most often, I swear, I could never get sick of the lyrics in this song.
Just as I was closing my eyes and getting used to the beautiful tune, the back of my chair is kicked.
I jolt forward, processing what had just happened.
After I take a mental breath, I lay back down, obviously they knew I felt it, so they should stop.
But then it happens again, and I just ignore it.
Then again.
Then again.
And Then again.
Okay, lets get this straight, I'm a shy person, I hate standing up for myself or just talking to someone in general, so, turning around and lashing out at these guys was definitely not an option for me.
So I sit back, and just take the jolts. I hate being as shy as I am, but I wasn’t going to turn around.
I had dreamed of this flight for eight years. The excitement of looking out of the window, and watching LA fly farther away from me.
And these boys were not making it the ‘trip of a lifetime’ like Jason said.
But then they stopped kicking.
It felt like someone had just single handedly stopped a loud earth quake and it was silent. A lovely wave of reilef flies over me, and I relax back in the chair.
“your water, sirs” an attendant says, and I hear the boys mumble a thank you.
“are you sure I can’t get you anymore than just one glass?”
“no, we are sure, thanks love” one of them says.
“alright, let me know if you need anything else” she says, and paces away.
I hear a few giggles and then one of them shifts from behind me
“I’m going to the toilet, Lads” he says, and I roll my eyes at how loud he had said that, like, I obviously didn’t need to know the state your bladder was in, sir.
but then I felt something, it was a cold splash of water being spilt all over my white dress.
I look down at the damage, and it had caused the top half to become see-through, exposing my black laced bra.
I stand up then, and turn to the culprit, holding the glass in his left hand.
“oops, sorry” he laughs, looking down at the boys, but once he looks back up at me, he legit stops laughing and freezes, dropping the cup onto another one of the boy’s genitals
“Ow!, dude!” he squints
“Sorry…” the boy mumbles, not taking his eyes off of me.
I look down at my dress, and he does too.
“Thanks a lot” I mumble, turning off and walking down the aisle to locate the nearest bathroom.
But I pause.
I scanned my eyes to one of the screens of the other passengers TV sets.
The five boys were playing on the same repeated news article, ‘One Direction are coming to Paris’
I freeze and turn back to the boy standing behind my seat still, his eyes attach to mine, and then smiles adoringly, his dimples appearing on the sides oh his cheeks.
That was no ordinary teenage boy… that was Harry Styles.
And that was One Direction.
I turn back and pace to the bathroom, my eyes as wide as a crack dealer.
Once in the safety of a locked bathroom, I sit on the sink and begin holding my dress under the hand-dryer. It takes me a while to actually process what had just happened, and once it clicked, I nearly began to hyperventalate.
One Direction were on my plane.
One Direction were going to Paris.
One Direction were sitting right behind me.
And Harry Styles had purposely spilt his damn water down my shirt, obviously trying to get a laugh out of the boys.
I jump off the sink once my dress was dried, it was a little damp now, but at least it wasn’t still see-through.
I place it back on and stare at myself in the mirror, my blonde ringlets ending just below my rib cage.
I looked like I was hit by a bloody steam-roller.
No wonder he was staring at me!.
I fluff my hair a little, and trace my lips with my finger, making sure my long lasting lipstick was still ‘long-lasting’.
Once I gathered the courage, I stepped back out, and walked down the blue carpeted aisle.
My eyes locked with Harry’s again, and i looked away shyly and back down at my seat number, sitting directly in front of him and the boys.
It was quiet for about, a minimum of about ten seconds before I feel another shift from behind me, and then someone swings their head around so they were looking into my seat row.
“Now that I have your attention, which I tried so hard to get. My name is Harry Styles”.