Broken, Blue - H.S.

two - castellane, france

With about 1,600 people, Castellane is one of the least populated parts of France. It isn't hard to believe that everybody knows everybody there. 

I was excited for them to know Harry. 

Our first stop was a small place I rented so I could always be close to my family. As we dropped our bags off and headed for my car, all I wanted was to introduce Harry to all of my childhood friends and, of course, my family. I wanted to tell everyone about him, about us, but I knew I would instantly regret doing so. 

The public eye seemed to make everything worse. Being famous already meant giving up a certain level of privacy, being in a famous relationship was a whole different story. I didn't know if Harry felt the same way; he sort of just went along with my insistence on keeping us out of the limelight. I figured he agreed with my sentiments, given his past experiences. 

Thankfully, there were no paparazzi in Castellane. 

"Have you been practicing your French, Harry?" Though I rarely would think to address someone I was so familiar with by their full name, I knew he liked my pronunciation. The 'h', he noted, seemed to float away into the wind as we drove down the sunset-enchanted roads. 

"Oui, je m'appelle 'Arry," he replied, attempting to mimic my accent. 

"You're going to have to know more than that, darling," I told him through a lighthearted laugh. His hair danced behind his head as we drove faster and faster. 

"You know we have speed limits in France, right?" 

He looked at me and smiled. "Look at you, being responsible all of a sudden."

I rolled my eyes. "I would prefer you alive to meet my parents."

He shifted in his seat and took a few noticeable breaths. "You think.. Do you think they'll like me?"

"As long as you don't do that accent again," I started, turning  on the radio, "you'll be fine." 

I sat back in the cool leather seat and listened as the world passed by.

God, it's good to be home.