Allure // Harry Styles AU

Trois

I was super scared as I clutched the handle of my rolling suitcase standing in front of Orlando International Airport. This was my first time traveling on a plane alone as well as my first time traveling out of the country, and I was positively shaking.

Like, actual shaking. My legs couldn't stop moving from fright, my knees knocking into the magenta floral print of my baggage.

I had been on flights before, but that was always with my parents and we never left the country. Most of the time we flew to New York, where my aunts and uncles were, and that was never bad.

I was independent, I could get myself around an American airport...but a French one? Let me explain how this is going to be complicated:

1. I hardly speak French at all. Sure, my mother is French and speaks fluently, but she was always was the oddball in the family considering she left a world of money and wealth to marry my father (an almost penniless American journalist), head to the States, and have me. She pretty much stopped speaking French once she arrived in the U.S., so my only experience with the language was in school classes. No one in my French family really understood her choices, and I think that's why we hardly visited. Which brings me to number two:

2. I haven't seen my grandfather since I was two. I hardly remember what he looks like, so I would probably walk around the airport in circles trying to find him waiting to pick me up. I couldn't remember anything about my grandfather, which would make this extremely awkward and extremely weird.

3. Again, I hardly speak French.

There you go, those are the reasons why this trip wasn't thrilling me as much as it probably should have.

Well, those...and I had to wear a dress.

It wasn't like the dress was ugly or that I hated to wear dresses, it's just that I was fully prepared to take a long power nap in my comfy sweats and t-shirt for the duration of the plane ride, not make sure my legs were crossed and remember to pull my skirt down to not show too much skin. But alas, my grandfather had sent a present along with the plane ticket: a lovely white dress, a pair of red heels, and something that made my eyes almost pop out of my head: a Chanel handbag that was covered in a flurry of colors, almost like it was tie-dyed. A note tucked inside the expensive handbag had read as follows:

My darling Marie Cosette,

Please wear these to the airport when it is time for you to fly out to see me. I have no doubt that my granddaughter will look like the accomplished young lady she has grown up to be in them. The dress is just a token of congratulations from one of my assistants, who spotted it in a little boutique while walking around Paris. The handbag is from Chanel's spring 2015 collection, and is a personal present from Mr. Karl Lagerfeld, a colleague of mine.

Love, Grandfather

I had almost felt like my fingers would dirty the handbag that I knew cost thousands of dollars when I pulled it out of the box, like I was too impure to even hold the luxury purse. I had felt like puking when I had Googled Karl Lagerfeld, discovering he was the head fashion designer of Chanel.

Thankfully, there had been no puking or ailments as I had gotten dressed this morning, sneaking some flats into my carry-on bag to change out of the heels later. Mom had pinned my hair back in a fancy bun and applied a bit of makeup to my face. She had almost been in tears when she stepped back and admired her masterpiece of a daughter, smiling brightly and pulling me in close for a hug. My parents had hugged and kissed me so much before we even left the house, and they were no better now.

"Marie, calm down. This will be fun for you!" My mother assured me, my father rubbing my shoulders to get me to relax. "Everything is planned out perfectly, your grandfather even offered to buy a plane ticket for you to come home early if you don't like Paris."