cold ♡ h.s. » au

Chapter 10

"What's so interesting?" Harry asked, referring to my phone.

"Looking for online classes," I mumbled. "Keep your eyes on the road."

"We're almost there," he grinned like a child, revealing his dimples.

"Oh my gosh," I said as we drove into the beautiful city.  "Are you tired?"

"A little," he said while his eyes scanned for a hotel.

"There's one down there," I pointed.

He pulled into the lot and we both carried in our bags.

"One room please," he said to the receptionist.

As he continued the conversation I looked at the contents of the lobby. Many people were lounged in the nice chairs, even more were sipping on overpriced wine and making conversation.

Once everything was arranged we were set up on the tenth floor. The room was huge, bigger than my own bedroom back home.

I crawled under the covers and watched Harry typing rapidly on the provided computer.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"You will find out tomorrow," he answered.

I closed my eyes, but I didn't go to sleep until the other side of the mattress was occupied.

__________

My eyes opened to not the white ceiling, they opened to Harry's torso completely smothering me.

I pushed him off of me, causing him to groan and flip back over.  I walked into the abnormally large bathroom and started up the shower. I washed off the grime from the previous day, also making sure to shampoo my hair throughout. I wrapped the hotel provided towel around my body and walked out to find Harry typing away on the computer again.

"Are you going to tell me now?" I asked while digging through my bag.

"We are going to Broadway," he smiled to himself.

"What show?" My eyes lit up.

"That's a surprise," he put the computer to sleep and walked away into the bathroom.

I sighed in defeat and looked at my outfit options. As soon as Harry was done in the bathroom, I blow dried my hair and curled it the best of my ability. I dusted on light makeup under my eyes, and added a bit of mascara.

"You almost ready?" Harry's voice echoed.

"Yeah!" I called back.

"You look lovely," he smiled while taking my hand.

"Thanks," my cheeks started to blush.

The theatre was in walking distance from the hotel, I was excited.

"Just please tell me what we're seeing," I begged.

"Les Misérables," he said while holding the door open for me.

"That's been my favorite since I was little," I smiled at his choice. "The novel is great."

"Two tickets, under Styles."

We were seated in the front row, I gaped at the stage.

"Tell me more about the novel," he said.

"Well, it can be translated from the French title into The Miserable Ones, The Wretched, or even The Victims. So, as I have concluded,that it is not a happy book. It is the very opposite of fluffy happiness, it is a story about the lowest and darkest parts of French society in the first half of the nineteenth century. Hugo took me, the reader, on over a thousand  page journey around France and into the lives of criminals, prostitutes, those wasting away under the strain of poverty. And he provides food for thought on commonly-held ideas about the nature of law, justice, love, religion and politics. Not only this, but I can say that not one page of that novel bored me."