The Lucky Pick // One Direction

Chapter 49

Megan Watson's POV

"Megan, wake up. Babe."

I wake up to the sound of Harry's deep voice, sounding like he has just woken up. He clears his throat, and then taps my shoulder.

"We're here," he says, and I rub my eyes, opening them to find us in a plane. For a moment, I'm completely confused, before everything comes back to me, and I remember why we're here.

It is three weeks since I spent the day with Zayn, Louis, Liam, and CeCe, and now, Harry and I had gotten a flight to Paris, because he insisted that he really wanted to go somewhere with me.

Remembering Zayn talking about going to France, I had suggested that we go there, and Harry agreed eagerly.

So, here we are, just landed down on Paris.

I see Harry take our carry-on bags out of the compartment above us, and hold them both in his hands. He sends me a small smile as I get out of my seat, before he gives me a small peck on the lips.

I smile weakly, before trying to take my bag off him, but he says, "It's fine. I'll hold it."

We then make our way out of the plane, and into the cool, night air.

"I already love it here," I say with a light laugh.

"You said that about Ireland too," he says, chuckling.

"Do you have a problem with Ireland?" I ask jokingly.

"Erm, no. I don't," he says.

"Good, because I love it there. I love their accents, they're so, like, Irish!" I say with a laugh.

"Right, you love their accents because they're so Irish," he says, nodding his head as we walk towards the airport, "Never would've guessed Irish people sound Irish."

"Or that French people sound French," I say.

"Or that American people sound American," he adds.

"Or that British people sound British," I say. He shakes his head at me with a chuckle before we enter the airport.

We get our suitcases, and some food, before heading to our hotel, where when we get inside our hotel room, I immediately plop onto the bed with a heavy sigh, not bothering to change out of my clothes.

"Megan?" I hear Harry say, feeling the bed dip beside me as I try to sleep.

"Go away," I mumble.

"Megan?"

"Go away," I repeat, reaching my hand back to smack him, "I'm too tired."

"Too tired for what?" He says with a laugh.

"Just. I'm too tired. Let me sleep," I say sleepily.

I feel him change his position, and peek open an eye to see his body leaned on it's side, facing me, his head propped up by his elbow.

I let out a small laugh at his position, which makes him look at me, "What?"

"Your position," I laugh, "It's funny."

He grins, letting out a small laugh, before putting a smirk on his face and wiggling his eyebrows, which makes me laugh.

He then lies down on his side and holds his arms out for me to go into them, which I do. He wraps his arms tightly around me, and within seconds I've fallen into a deep sleep.

The next morning, I wake up to sun shining in my face, and I immediately smile to myself, remembering we're in Paris.

"Good morning," Harry says, walking out from the mini-kitchen of the hotel room.