Deal With It ✓

Eighteen: Paris Fashion Week

Song: Summertime In Paris ft. Willow // Jaden

Thank you to mnms13 for all their votes!

Warning: This is a multimedia chapter so y'all finna need WiFi/4G to look at the pics!

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When I surprised Amber with the trip, she cried.

No, they weren't happy tears, she was pissed at me. She thought I was pulling a prank on her and she was absolutely livid, telling me that it was a 'sick joke' and I 'shouldn't joke about something so serious'. She even punched me, and it hurt. That made me question whether or not she even deserved the surprise. Here I was, making her dreams come true, and she decided to hit me?

But then I showed her proof; the details of the flight and hotel suite I booked; the text messages I exchanged with Alexandre. She even texted Rose so that she could make sure I wasn't pulling her leg and once she confirmed that the trip was indeed real she screamed. A very high pitched, ear-splitting scream that reverberated around the entire fucking neighborhood.

She snatched my phone out of my hands and scrolled through the excel sheet I'd created detailing the time each show began, what dates they were scheduled for, and what we could do during our free time. After having read through it five times, she screamed again and launched herself onto me. She wrapped her arms around my waist and buried her face into my chest as she cried again– this time from happiness. She repeatedly screamed 'thank you' and the vibrations tickled me making me squirm.

Once the reality finally set in, she asked me when we would be leaving, and when I told her it was the day after tomorrow, she flipped shit, yelling that we needed to get five sets of outfits for the different days that we'd be there for. When I asked why we couldn't just wear what we had in our bigass closets, she glared at me and I instantly clamped my mouth shut. She then told me that we had to get up at seven tomorrow so we could go shopping for new outfits and she made me promise her that I wouldn't buy anything unless she double-checked it.

I felt offended at that because she insinuated that I had no sense of style, but I agreed nonetheless because, from the pictures I've seen online, my clothes wouldn't be 'acceptable' for the events anyways. So the next morning, we set off to boutiques situated around the entire fucking city, I'm talking from one end of the city to the other.

I was slowly starting to regret my decision of taking her to Paris Fashion Week. She made me buy articles of clothing I wasn't entirely comfortable wearing, but when she promised me that it would look good when she styled it. I complied and bought the clothes. She even decided to style one of her outfits so that the pants matched with mine and I rolled my eyes at how extra she was being.

The day we set off for Paris, Amber was bouncing of excitement. I had booked two business-class seats next to each other, and even though there was a literal wall separating us, I could still feel her eagerness to land and attend the fashion shows. Fortunately for my sister, the flight wasn't long, and once we landed, she snatched her backpack from beneath her seat and ran out of the plane, which meant that I had to push past passengers to get to her so that I wouldn't lose her in the airport. Sure we'd been here once or twice for vacation, but we weren't familiar with the streets or the city.

As we walked through the airport, I had my hands locked around her forearm in a tight grip so that she wouldn't slip away from me, and she didn't seem to care because she was finally in Paris. Like the tourist she was, she was documenting the entire thing on her phone– vlogs, pictures of our outfits, and selfies were going to fill up her camera roll. We passed through passport control and waited for our suitcases at the baggage claim. I had her sit down on the trolley and made her promise me that she wouldn't run off because I wouldn't be able to call her since I've yet to buy a SIM card for our phones.