A Single Daffodil [Harry Styles]

Saint-Malo, France. (Part I)

When my alarm went off at 7 am the next morning, I tried to stretch my legs out to weaken the wear of sleep but my feet were blocked by something solid and heavy.

I lifted myself up by the elbows to inspect the bottom of my bed. Jayden was sprawled across the end of my bed, face down, still wearing his clothes from yesterday. I didn't even hear him come in last night.

I rolled my eyes and nudged him with my foot. "Hey. Hey, Jayden." I said. "Wake up."

His groan was muffled by the mattress. It took him a second to lift his head up. There was a wet patch of drool underneath him.

"Oh gross." I grimaced. "Jayden, what are you doing in here?"

"Is this not my room?" His voice all but croaked as he looked around my room. "Oh. Oh, ow. My head."

"Drank a little too much wine last night?" I laughed at his disorientated state.

He slowly crawled towards me and repositioned himself next to me, burying himself into the bed the correct way. He moaned again. "I think I'm dying."

"Uh-huh." I hummed as I pulled myself out of bed. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes as I walked over to the window and pulled the curtains apart. Just as the weather app on my phone predicted: the skies were clear. Perfect.

As Jayden concealed his entire being under the pillows and covers, I changed out of my pajamas and into a lightweight, soft woven black slip dress. The dress was perfect for a day spent in Saint-Malo, with it's open back and drapey fit with a banded scoop neck. I let my hair out of the messy bun and slipped on my simple brown sandals.

Just as I was double-checked that I packed everything I needed in my satchel messenger bag, Jayden lifted his head to look at me.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

"The station. The Saint-Malo train leaves in thirty minutes." I replied, dropping my polaroid camera into the bag. I packed an extra case of the film too.

"That's today?" Jayden asked. "I thought you were going tomorrow!"

"I was, but the forecast for tomorrow is awful and rainy," I answered. "So I'm going today."

Jayden was quiet for a moment before sitting up a little higher. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No, you turd-nugget." I laughed. "There's no way I'm taking your hungover ass with me to Saint-Malo."

He pouted but nodded in agreement. "Will you be okay? Do you know where you're going?"

"Yes, Jayden." I rolled my eyes and walked over to him to give him a quick hug. "You don't have to worry about me. I got this. I'm overly-prepared if anything."

He didn't look entirely convinced but he let it go by dropping back into the pillows with a tired sigh. "Alright. Well, we'll have a bonfire on the beach when you get back. We bought smore ingredients last night."

"Perfect." I swung the satchel bag onto my shoulder and placed my cat-eye sunglasses on top of my hair. "I'll make an extra batch of coffee for you so it'll be waiting for you when you wake up. See you later."

"Love ya!" Jayden gratefully exclaimed.

When I walked out into the hallway, I made sure to tread slowly and carefully so I wouldn't wake up any other hungover kittens from last night. Although, when I walked past the bathroom, I couldn't prevent myself from taking a couple of steps back and peering in. A pair of feet were dangling over the edge of the tub. I pushed the door back further and looked in to see it was Niall, passed out in the bathtub. For unknown reasons, he was clutching a plush octopus toy and dicks were drawn all over his face, the doings of the infamous Liam and Jayden duo no less.

I grinned, quietly taking out my polaroid camera and taking a quick picture. Thankfully, the flash didn't wake him up. That one was going in the book for sure.

I started rushing towards the kitchen but immediately stopped myself when I realized I forgot Harry was sleeping out here. My heartbeat quickened when I proceeded to remember last night and how...normal it was. Was that even the right word to describe it? I wasn't sure. But it left me tossing and turning in bed last night.

It was dead silent in the living room and the kitchen, save for the hushful waves crashing against the shore outside the condo. Curiosity got the best of me, so I took two steps towards the couch area to see if Harry was asleep.

Sure enough, he was. His body was sprawled out across the longest couch, a white sheet only twisting around his bottom half. With his torso completely exposed, he rested one hand across his stomach and the other shielded his eyes from the morning sun rays that were peaking through the translucent curtains. I watched his chest rise and fall in a fluid motion like a complete creep. I would have probably started drooling too if I wasn't so aware of how psycho I was acting. But he looked so innocent and peaceful, it was hard not to stare.

Eventually, I came out of the trance when it occurred to me that I was A) being wildly inappropriate and B) running out of time. The train would be leaving in twenty minutes and the station was about a ten-minute walk from here. The plan was to make a quick cup of coffee and head down there. I attentively dropped my satchel onto the empty couch next to Harry before tiptoeing into the kitchen. I tried to fill the coffee maker with water as quietly as possible, hoping the tiny noises of 'thuds' and 'thunks' wouldn't wake Harry up. Every time I made a loud sound, I checked behind me to make sure he was still asleep. Thankfully, he was.

As the coffee started to percolate, I ripped open the cabinet that held the mugs. They were right on the top shelf so I had to stand on my tippy toes to reach it. Once I got a firm grasp of a cup, I brought it down. But of course, the inevitable happened.

While bringing the mug down to the counter, the handle managed to clip one of the plastic bowls on the second shelf, causing the bowl to clatter onto the counter table. It clattered loudly.

"Crap!" I cursed under my breath.

When I turned around to look at the couch area, Harry was sitting straight up, eyes squinting in my direction.

Great.

"You alright?" His voice was hoarse with sleep. I wanted to groan out loud when I felt my skin erupt with goosebumps. He sounded so cute. He looked so cute. It was annoying.

He has a girlfriend, Vita, I forced myself to think, Ease up.

"Yeah, sorry," I whispered back. "Go back to sleep."

Of course, he didn't listen to me.

"It's seven o'clock in the morning." He stated, now looking at his phone. He yawned and turned back to me. My stomach did acrobatic flips. "What are you doing up?"

"I'm catching the train," I said, tapping my fingers impatiently on the countertop next to the coffeemaker. Could this take any longer?

"Wait, what?" Harry stood up and sleepily stumbled into the kitchen. He was still only in his boxers. This was torture to witness up close. "What do you mean you're catching a train?"

I forgot that Harry was completely unaware of why we were on this trip in the first place. He wasn't with us when the group decided to come to France.

"I'm going to Saint-Malo." I told him nonchalantly.

"Saint-Malo?" He repeated my words. Of course, they sounded much lovelier coming from his mouth. "What's in—" He stopped short and made a face like something suddenly clicked in his mind. "Oh my God. Saint-Malo. Where your Grandparents met."

I looked at him with surprise, eyes wide. Surely his memory didn't serve him that well? He heard my Grandpa tell that story over a year ago.

"Yes." I finally said. I definitely wasn't expecting that. "You remember?"

Now it was Harry's turn to look surprised. "Of course I remember. How could I forget? That was—" He ducked his head slightly, suddenly looking sheepish. I was dying to run my hands through his hair. "—that was one my favorite stories."

My mouth felt dry as my heart began to swell with a new sense of fondness for Harry. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I didn't know what to say. I was positively gobsmacked.

"How far away is it from here?" Harry inquired, breaking the silence.

"Oh, um." I felt frantic now, trying to gather my wits about me. "I think it's a forty-five-minute train ride. Not that far."

"Why are you taking the train when we have two Range Rovers parked outside?"

"Oh, I didn't—" Why was it so hard for me to correlate proper sentences when he was around? "I didn't want to wake anyone—"

"I can drive." He cut me off. "Let me take you."

"What?" I asked, immediately astonished by his offer. "No way, you don't have to—"

"Please." He cut me off for the second time, his eyes pleading. "I'd really like to go with you."

I wasn't anticipating anyone else coming on this trip with me. Harry, of all people, was the last person I expected to go. But he remembered the story, and just like me, he wanted to see what Saint-Malo was really like.

"It'll only take me a minute to get dressed!" He took my silence as a yes. He looked excited now, and who was I to prevent that? I'd be lying if I said I didn't want him to come with me. "Just one second and I'll be ready to go!"

I sighed and shook my head as he hobbled around the living room, quickly yanking on pieces of clothing. First, the black skinny jeans were jerked onto his legs and then a loose light grey shirt. I couldn't prevent myself from laughing when he tripped over his own duffle bag on the floor.