An Artist's Impression

Chapter 2 ~ Find Mystery Girl

Zayn's POV

I opened the taxi's door and breathed in the French air. It was midday and across the street were many, families, couples, men and women walking about looking totally happy.

As soon I stepped out of the plane an hour before, I realised how much I missed this place. I had been here once before, when Steven had supposedly painted me, and ever since then I had forgotten how warm and friendly this place was.

The taxi driver coughed and I shook my head, sending him a quick apology and pulling my suitcase out the boot. "Er, merci, monsieur," I thanked him as I handed him some euros. He gave me a quizzical look which turned into a smirk and replied," thanks."

I groaned as he drove off making me feel like an utter twat. I had the worst French accent and to him, that annoying person, must have been hilarious.

Brushing it off, I ran my hands through my hair and took hold of my suitcase. The taxi driver had dropped me off right outside the hotel I was staying in. It was called: Hôtel de beauté.

As I entered it, I noticed how slightly run-down it was yet in the same way, cute and vintage. There were pictures of French comics on the walls and little French trinkets and what-not on the window sills.

As I looked around, I felt a small smile etch onto my face and I was indeed glad that I chose this hotel.

I walked up to the little reception table and looked around, suddenly feeling quite lonely. There was a small gold bell on the desk so I pressed it cautiously, immediately cursing when a loud, obnoxious sound pierced my ears.

The sound of rustling and hurrying next filled my ears and I leaned further into the desk, my eyes searching the back area for any visual sign of a human inhabitant.

"Sorry monsieur, I was just making some tea."

I jumped and turned round, coming face to face with a middle-aged woman who looked as if she had just rolled out of bed.

I sent her a warm smile," it's fine, don't worry." She sent me a smile back and hurried round to the reception. She was about medium-height with brown hair tied up in a messy bun.

"Name please monsieur," she asked. "Er, Zayn Malik," I replied. There was a slight pause as I watched her eyebrows furrow as she flipped through some rough-edged brown book before smiling at last and facing me again.

"Ah oui, I shall take you up to your room." Her strong French accent was extremely audible as she spoke but she was very good at the English.

I nodded as she grabbed a set of keys from the wall and walked in front of me, waddling slightly as she led me up the stairs.

"You are room 3 on the first floor and my name is Anne by the way," she said as I followed her round the hotel. "If you need anything, just come down and ask. I am afraid we don't have a button to press or any of that high-tech what-not but on the other hand, we do room service."

I chuckled as she explained the 'rules' of the hotel, knowing that I very much liked this lady. "That is absolutely fine," I said. She smiled and handed me the keys.

"Welcome then," she greeted making me laugh in response. "Thank you."

**********

I was all settled in, basically. My bag was half unpacked and I had called my mum to tell her I had got here safely. I was now sat down on the small sofa in my room, legs up on the coffee table and brochure in hand.

Once again, I was staring at the painting, trying to rack my brain for any last details I had missed.

Nothing. As per usual.

I gave up on the surroundings and focused on the girl, studying her features again. It was always her eyes that caught me off guard, I just wondered what they would be like in real life.

Her black hair was also very striking, in contrast to her eyes. And her clothes were plain and somewhat boring.

I soon realised that sitting around and staring at this painting wasn't going to get me anywhere so I leapt off the sofa and sped out the room, hopping down the stairs of the hotel two by two.

"Bonjour monsieur Malik, what has got you in such a rush?" asked Anne who was sitting comfortably behind the desk reading what seemed to be a French magazine.

"Oh um, well I was wondering if you have seen this girl before?" I asked, handing her the brochure and pointing to the painting of 'me' and the girl.

Her eyes ran over it  several times before she sighed and shook her head. "I'm sorry Zayn, I haven't seen her at all. Who is she?" Anne asked.

I ran my hand through my hair and breathed out," that's what I am trying to find out." Anne raised her eyebrow.

"Well there's no good standing around here? This place is not going to help you find her so go out, look, search, do whatever you have to do if you want to but I can promise you. You aren't going to find her in here."

I chuckled yet I understood immensely. Anne was right. This girl wasn't hiding around here, if I had come all the way out here I had to make use of the time and resources.

"Merci Anne," I said happily and raced back upstairs.

I grabbed my coat and phone, slipping them into my jeans and checked for my wallet just in case I got hungry or was in need of some money.

As soon as I locked the door of my room, I paused and breathed out heavily. I was actually doing this.

I know it was stupid to realise it now, I mean I had flown out to Paris for this girl who I didn't know and it was only until I decided to venture out the hotel when I realised how crazy, yet exciting this was.

Mission - Find Mystery Girl was in action.

*~*~*~*

Zayn is in France!! Whoop, whoop! Things will start to heat up in the upcoming chapters!!

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Love you all,

M x