Allure // Harry Styles AU

Deux

"France? Like...fancy bread, stripes, Eiffel-tower, hunky men France?" Grace seemed to be in shock, her big chocolate eyes resembling the heart-eyed emoji on her phone she was always so fond of. Her Starbucks frappuccino straw was perched on her pouted lips as she contemplated this new information I had just told her, occasionally taking sips from her overpriced fluffy drink.   

I had decided to share the information my mother had passed on to me just a few hours earlier that morning with the one friend who still stuck with me through high school like glue. Apparently my grandfather wanted to bring me to his native country of France as a graduation present for the summer, an all-expenses paid dream vacation in his supposed words.

So here Grace and I were, sitting in the Orlando mall food court munching on cookies and Starbucks, Grace seeming more excited about the whole ordeal than me.

"Yup." I simply sighed, while Grace stared wide eyed at me like I was an idiot. "What?"

"Mmm!" She hummed as she took another sip from her drink, her hand slapping at my arm. My skin stung and prickled, faintly turning pink afterwards.

"Ow! What was that for?" I asked, now slightly annoyed as my hand rubbed over the irritated skin to try and soothe it.

"Fancy wines? Hunky men? Come on, Marie! You'll be living the dream life! Wait, what's the legal drinking age in France?" Grace rambled a mile a minute before turning on her iPhone to look up France's drinking age, delicate fingers rapidly typing away.

"Grace, I'll be with my grandfather the whole time, I don't think there will be any fancy wines or hunky men in my summer. I'm pretty sure he works in finances, and last time I checked, no hunky men work in finances." I explained, Grace only half-listening as she typed questions into Google.

"Not true, my brother works in finances. I mean, he's not hunky or anything, but he's not ugly." Grace shrugged before excitement made her expression change into happiness.

"Ah ha! Check this out!" Her golden iPhone 6 was slid over the tabletop to me, Google still pulled up. "The legal drinking age in France is 16. To get the good hard liquor, you gotta be 18. I'm expecting some piss-drunk phone calls at midnight from you." Grace's smirk only made me roll my eyes.

"Grace, I'm not going to get drunk." I sighed, my best friend only rolling her eyes and flicking her dark hair out of her eyes.

"Whatever you say. There better be some hunky guys then." She winked, to which my gaze focused on my smoothie. My fingers stirred the straw around and my eyes watched the fruity beverage colors swirl around as I bit my lip.

When it came to boys, I was...hopeful. My flirting techniques needed some work and I tended to stay by myself a bit. I admired boys, I had had my share of crushes and daydreams, but in the end that's all they really came to: nothing more than a lovely idea.

I had begun to wonder if my expectations were a bit too far-fetched my junior year. With a French mother who had told me dreamy stories of her being romanced with evening picnics in Parc de la Villette and being proposed to on top of the Eiffel Tower, I had created a fantasy in my head of the perfect gentleman. A perfect man who would woo me with flowers and take long walks with me hand-in-hand, a man who could embrace his soft side, one who could show me the world and paint it in a different light than I was used to.

I had figured such men were imaginary, figments of every woman's imagination. Men now only cared about trivial things, placing themselves at the top of an imaginary pedestal and treating women as a side note. There were exceptions, I was sure of it, but most men were lacking in the romance I desired. True romance, the sappy yet intoxicating kind, had died generations ago. At least, as far as I was aware.

"Come on Marie, at least look like you're excited." Grace suddenly turned serious. "This will be fun! You're going to Paris! I would love to go to Paris, but you know my parents would never trust me all alone in another country."

"That's because you would accommodate too well. You would have some French man wrapped around your pinkie finger without knowing any French at all." I rolled my eyes, Grace laughing and nodding her head.

"I probably would, you know men of any country can't resist this." Grace ran her hands down her body, laughing when I did.

Our laughter had died down when I got a text from Mom.

'Come home soon, we need to pack your bags and get anything from the store you may need for your trip.' It read, Grace spotting it before I picked my phone up from the table.

"Wait, when are you leaving?" Grace suddenly asked, her expression dropping all traces of humor.

"In a few days." I admitted, watching as Grace's mouth turned down into a frown and her eyes became downcast at her phone.

"I didn't realize you were leaving so soon." Grace mumbled as she unlocked her phone, fingers aimlessly swiping across the home screen only for her to turn it off again.

"Well my mom just got word of it today, and my grandfather apparently already bought the ticket for a flight in three days." I explained, Grace still upset by my sudden departure.

"And you'll be gone the whole summer?" She asked, sighing when I nodded.

"Yeah. I'll be coming back in August just before Florida State starts up." I told her. Grace shrugged a bit before taking another sip of her drink.

"Well, look. We may not be able to spend the summer together but we'll still be roommates all year." I pointed out, Grace's head tilting from side to side as she thought about it.

"True, I can't be really mad at you if we'll still be together all year." She smiled a bit before standing up from the food court table and taking her drink in hand. I followed her lead, both of us walking towards the parking lot where we said our goodbyes and drove home.

The drive home wasn't very long, which I expected. Walking in my house to hear my mother speaking angry French to someone on the phone as she was in the kitchen was not something I expected.

I walked over to the kitchen to tell Mom I was home, setting my keys and phone on the kitchen table. Mom saw me as I sat down in one of the chairs, but didn't stop her angry conversation. It was quite the sight, seeing my mother making what looked like chocolate cupcakes as she spoke quickly. Mom had a habit of talking faster whenever she was upset, in both English and French, and I felt bad for whoever was on the receiving end of her wrath.

She hung up soon enough, the phone becoming smeared a bit with chocolate frosting from her fingertips as she set it on the countertop.

"How was the mall, darling?" She smiled at me as if she hadn't just been yelling at someone on the phone.

"It was fine. Grace is a bit upset that I'm leaving so soon." I said shortly, Mom shrugging as she tasted her chocolate frosting from her fingertips.

"Well you'll see each other for the whole school year." She pointed out as the oven beeped loudly. Mom quickly grabbed a tray of already prepped cupcake batter in their little wrappers and stuck it in the oven, sighing happily when she closed the oven door.

"There. Our celebration cupcakes are cooking." She smiled brightly at me. Mom was a great cook, but a terrible baker. I had come home throughout the years so many times from school excited when I saw a plate of cookies or cupcakes in the kitchen, but would regret it as soon as I would take a bite. Still, Mom was persistent, and continued baking. She had made tremendous progress. Her treats were now pleasing enough to the taste buds to actually swallow them.

"Who was that you were talking to?" I asked Mom, who only waved her hand back and forth as if shooing a fly away.

"No one, just your aunt in New York." She answered. I chose not to ask any other questions over her heated conversation, Mom was like a vault when it came to things like that. She would always seem sweet on the outside but could be harboring years of anger and grudges inside. She scared me at times.

"Come on, Marie, we have to pack for your trip." Mom smiled at me, taking off her pink apron and hurrying me up to my room for what would become hours of packing. Not fun.

A/N: Kind of a filler chapter but don't worry, things get good in the next chapter! Please vote and comment all you lovely readers! -Maddie