Espresso

Chapter Eleven

Jet

I sleep our whole first day in Paris, which is enough to keep my headache at bay and chase exhaustion from my bones. When my alarm goes off late in the afternoon to wake me up for dinner, I'm jolted awake and riddled with anxiety. The band have invited most of the crew to dinner in a little artisan restaurant that they've booked out and after this morning's gossip, I'm not keen on going. 

I stretch out in my comfortable king size bed, unplugging my phone and picking it up to see if I've got any notifications. There's a couple from a few of my college friends wishing me well on the next leg of the tour, a message from my Dad reminding me about dinner, a few from the little crew group chat about how sick the view is of the Eiffel Tower and finally one from Eric telling me that Marie is going to post out my stuff to me, asking if I could text him an address seeing as I wasn't home. I text him the address of our hotel in Switzerland seeing as the rest of the time we'd be sleeping on the bus and we actually had a few days to spend there. 

Checking the time, I realise that dinner is in an hour and I haven't decided what to wear yet. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and head towards the shower, wanting to wash all memories of Eric and the last 24 hours from my mind. 

Once the shampoo residue is rinsed from my hair and I've dragged a razor over my legs, I switch off the water and wrap myself in the hotel's fluffy bath robe. I brush my teeth, washing the taste of plane coffee and airport breakfast off my gums before moisturising my face. I decide to go in heavy with the eyeliner, needing to regain some of my identity, pairing it with my Kate Moss 107 lipstick, the deep red a contrast to my pale skin and I add a bit more contour to sharpen my cheekbones. I curl the ends of my hair, which seems to have sprouted in the last few weeks and I'm in desperate need of a trim, spritzing it with as much hairspray as it will tolerate before turning crispy. 

I drag some lace underwear over my body and empty my suitcase onto my bed, flinging clothes everywhere. I decide on a 2 piece from Ariana Grande's Lipsy collection. The skirt is crisp white, with a black trim around the waist and the hem, with a cropped black top to match that has a sweetheart neckline. I add my silver moon earrings and necklace before slipping into my patent court heels from last night. They're slightly sticky so I swipe them with a makeup wipe. I take ,my Ted Baker clutch out of the front of my case and examine myself in the mirror. I'll do I suppose. I snap a quick picture for Instagram and post it to my feed, tagging Paris as my location, knowing it will send the fans into a spin that the One Direction entourage is here. 

I hear a knock on my door and swing it open to see my Dad sporting a smile and a black suit. 

"Wow, superstar." 

I blush, "well I wasn't sure on the vibe."

"No me neither kid, so I just went for black."

"It's a staple," I shrug. 

"I think they're on about going out afterwards." 

"Is that a wise decision after last night?" 

"Probably not but welcome to tour," he laughs, holding out an arm for me to take as he walks us through the hotel towards the lift. 

We press the button for the lift, making small talk about the decor in the hallway as we wait for it to arrive. 

When the doors slide open, I'm gutted to see Harry and Hazel standing there, a bright pink lipstick stain on his neck, right below his jaw. I take a deep sigh and follow Dad into the lift. 

"Hi guys, good flight?" Hazels asks. 

"Not so bad, you?" 

"Yeah, yeah good. Have you guys seen much of Paris yet?"