Summer '18 / H.S.

03

Marseille, France
June 2018

There was something about the city of Marseille that made Mallory excited to come back every single time. It felt so much more urban than her Nice, and it wasn't as tourist-y either. The port city wasn't the cleanest, or safest, but something about the busy metro stations and expensive lifestyle made Mallory wish she could stay there forever (or at least until she could finally move to Paris).

'Whatcha smiling about?' Harry inquired, noticing the girl's bright expression as soon as they exited the train station.

Mallory tried to hide it, but it was hard to cover how excited she was. 'I just love this place.'

Harry smiled. 'My show is at 10pm. Mind showing me around till then?'
She had waited for him to say that.

After leaving their bags at a hotel near Saint-Charles, the two hopped into a taxi and headed to the most famous attraction from Marseille.
'This is le Vieux Port, the old port.'

'Look, that one's mine,' Harry pointed to one of the biggest yachts in the port, making the girl laugh.

'No, it's not.'

'Not yet,' he winked before resuming walking around the large port, roaming with people of all nationalities, thanks to the summer vacation. The bright sunlight coming down reflected on the yachts parked in the water, which every tourist was taking photos of. On land, small souvenir shops, ice cream parlors and restaurants could be see all around. At Harry's request, the two stopped to get a drink at the nearest Starbucks.

'Harry,' the girl stopped right before entering the building. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, asking her what was going on. 'Order a drink in French.'

He stopped and chuckled. 'And just why would I do that?'

'Well, French people don't really understand your accent that well. And since you're here, why not practice your French a bit?' she smiled.

Harry shook his head. 'I can't even speak French. I learned a bit in middle school and all I can really say is bonjour.'

'Come on, you can do it. I believe in you,' Mallory continued mocking the boy.

After some more encouraging in front of the Starbucks, the girl finally won. She told him what to say and the two headed inside the building. Mallory was first to order, then came Harry, speaking in a heavily accented, extremely broken French, which the employee could barely understand. 'Je voudrais un Iced Caramel Macchiato,' the drink name bring said in his British accent, 's'il vous plaît.'

When the girl asked him what size he wanted, he turned to Mallory, asking what she had said. She whispered to him, 'Grande.'

Harry repeated and smiled. He guessed that the lady had now told him what he had to pay, so he just handed her a €10 paper to be sure. After getting his change, he joined his partner.

'That was the most embarrasing thing I ever had to do in my life,' he said so dramatically that Mallory burst into laughter.

'It was fun for me. Iced caramel macchiato,' she repeated what he had just said, trying to imitate his accent.

'That's in English! Do you want me to say that in your language as well?' he asked, now desperately.

Their drinks finally came and they headed out back into the city. The girl gave him two choices: either go left and visit the iconic church on the hill in the middle of the city, or go right for shopping. Harry, of course, chose to go right.

_/_

'It's not the cheapest shop, is it?' Harry asked the girl, seeing the price tags with slightly too many digits. They had entered the first department store they saw, Harry confessing he was running out of clean clothes.