The Thrill Is Gone

They were meant to depart on the 8:43 from St Pancras Int’l. It was to be a 2hr 25m train ride that would see them to Paris Gare du Nord, where a private vehicle under the supervision of Kamal, would await to escort them to their hotel. Every single part of their trip had been meticulously planned by Harry, given the approval of his brother and father, and signed off on by their security team. Harry had gone to great lengths to ensure that their holiday would be most memorable, and Paulina was completely unaware of it. Harry had gone to great lengths to keep their travel itinerary hidden from her, preferring to keep her in the dark as long as he could. He wanted her to be completely surprised when she found out, to be elated and grin brightly and maybe even curse a bit out of sheer joy.

And as such, when he woke her at a quarter past seven that morning, he simply told her to dress comfortably and put on some trainers. That was all he said to her. That and to hurry up a bit so they could stop by a café to pick up a bit of breakfast on their way to wherever it was they were going. His words sparked her curiosity, and she implored him to tell her where it was they were going, saying how he ought to tell her seeing as to how it was the day of their trip, but despite that, despite her walking after him, imploring him to say a bit more, Harry kept quiet. If he’d lasted an entire month with the secret, he could certainly last a bit longer.

“Come off it, I'm not telling you. Not yet.” Harry said with a smirk, pleased by how restless she was. “So just put on your trainers, and let’s be on our way.”

“Why do I need trainers though? Why can’t I wear flats or boots?” she questioned as she slipped on her sneakers. “Does my wearing trainers mean that we’re gonna do a lot of walking around?”

“I reckon it might.”

She paused, taking a moment to process where it was they could be off to. “Are we going to Edinburgh?” she had mentioned in passing how much she wanted to visit. “Oh! How about the cliffs? The ones that always come out in Jane Austen movies, the ones that I'm always saying I’d love to have a walk around? Are we going there?” Paulina quickly finished lacing her sneakers, and looked up at Harry, expectantly. “Ugh! You’re killing me, Henry! I'm not good with being patient and waiting for things!”

“Really?” he asked. “I would’ve never known that. You’ve been doing such a brilliant job with being patient. In fact, I’d even call you a shining example of patience. You’ll be made a saint for it, you will.”

“Stop being so annoying,” she grumbled. “I don’t do patient. You know I don’t do patient. And when I know something really rad is going to happen, but I don’t know what it is, it’s even harder. You know what? If you don’t tell me where we’re going, I'm gonna bite you really hard.”

“And I'm going to like it.” He wiggled his brows suggestively. “I’ve even a few ideas of where exactly it is you can sink your teeth into.”

“You’re incorrigible.” She shook her head. “Why can’t you just tell me? I’ll still be surprised even if you tell me. I'm one of those people that can watch a movie a bunch of times, and still be surprised by what happens. You know I'm like that. You’ve seen me be that way with Becoming Jane. Every fucking time I watch that movie, I think they’re going to end up together because they’re just so damn perfect for each other, and I always end up being heart broken when they part. What was I saying again? Oh. Right, right . . .” she stepped towards him. “Just tell me. Yeah, güerito?” she placed her hands on his hips, pulling him in closer. “I’ll stop being so annoying if you tell me.” Before he could answer, her lips went to his neck, and she kissed the exposed skin that his t-shirt failed to cover. “Please . . . you know you want to tell me . . . come on, güerito . . .”

His eyes fluttered when her lips landed on that blessed spot on his neck where it seemed that his every nerve converged. Those plump, warm lips moved delicately across his neck, never kissing or nipping hard enough to leave a physical mark, but moving so skillfully, so passionately, that he felt desire brewing deep within him, and in that state of unadulterated ecstasy, his resolve to keep the secret lessened. Had it not been for Alistair phoning to inform him that he was waiting outside, Harry would’ve spilled the news, but thankfully Alistair did call, and he was able to get his wits about him just in time to keep himself from saying anything he might have regretted.

“You sneaky little minx,” he said, breathlessly. “That’s not fair.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh yes, you bloody do.” He was red in the face, and was finding it a challenge to reign in his desire. “You were trying to make me run at the mouth.”

“Was I? Hmm, I don’t think I was.” She placed her hands on his chest, and gripped the fabric of his grey t-shirt. “I was just showing my boyfriend how much I love him. Why? Do you disapprove?”

“Not at all,” he replied, watching with curious eyes as she began to tip her head upwards. “But we both know that’s not the only reason.”

“Well then, maybe I felt like having a morning shag.”

“Don’t say things like that . . .”

“Why?” she asking, despite knowing very well that he was beginning to get hard, she could feel his erection pressed up against his jeans. “You don’t like the idea?”

“There’s no time for it.” He said in a strained voice. “We can’t be late for the –”

“The what?” she said, a little more enthusiastically than she should have.

“See, I knew your arse was trying to get me to tell ya where we’ll be off to, but I won’t. Not even those lips of yours could get me to talk.” Harry smirked, victoriously. “Now come on, off we go. We can’t keep Alistair waiting, and we still have to drop by the café to fetch breakfast.”

“I can whip us up something real quick.” Paulina offered. “The fridge is fully stocked, and we only got at some of the food late last night, so I could make something from it, so it doesn’t all go to waste.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s the first day of our holiday, and I’ll be damned if you’ll be cooking throughout any of it. So come on, darling.”

“Okay then.” She dropped her hands from his chest. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me, though?”

“No!” he laughed. “You’re such an annoying arse.”

“You’re one to talk. You pestered me for ages after I told you that I got somewhere for us for your birthday.”

“That’s different though.”

“How’s that different?” she countered, raising her brow.

“I – well, I had to have the security check it out.” Harry stated. “This freckly face can’t simply stay at places. I’ve got to have them checked out and approved. Otherwise Gran will throw a fit. So there.” He looked very much pleased with himself. “You had to tell me. It was a matter of state.” His phone began to ring. “Bloody hell, I just told said we’d be down in a bit! Why’s he fucking calling again? Oh. Never mind, not Alistair. It’s Will. Give me a moment, yeah?” He waited until she nodded and then answered. “Hello? What’s your arse doing calling so early? Well what if we were still sleeping? I know we’re not, but – yeah, yeah, we’ll be alright. Honestly Wills, ya don’t have to tell me to mind myself; I know to mind myself and look after her. Yes. I know it’s different abroad, but – fucking hell! You twat! You just made me say that we were going abroad, now she’ll be thinking. Ah. I hope you’re pleased with yourself. I am not being dramatic. Oh, alright. I’ll see you in a month then. I’ll give you a ring later. Alright, alright, yes, for the millionth time, we’ll be fine. Now off you go, go be a prat somewhere else.” Harry hung up. “Wills just wanted to wish us a happy journey, and told us to mind ourselves. Not that we need telling, but you know how it is with older brothers. Should we get going then?”

Paulina couldn’t contain her smile, or keep herself from asking, “Abroad, then?”

“I knew ya were going to say something.”

“It’s not like I can help it. I'm just wondering if I have the right visa.”

“You’re gonna show up with me. Ya don’t need a visa.”

“Somehow, I don’t think it works that way.”

“Well it does when you’re my girlfriend.” He said, very matter-of-factly. “Now enough of this talking, we really need to be going. We’ve things to do! Places to see! That it?” he asked, pointing to her luggage. “Right then, up we go.”

“Henry!” Paulina exclaimed. “I can take my own bag. Just hand it over. You’re already carrying your own and I don’t want you to pull your back out or something, because it’s too much weight.”

“Pull my back?” Harry laughed as he began to walk down the stairs, carrying their rather heavy luggage. “What am I, an old man? Pull my back. Hah! It’ll take loads more than this for me to pull that out.”

“You still shouldn’t strain it.” She followed him down the stairs. “A few weeks back you were telling me that you strained it during training.”

“That was because the instructors were being fucking wankers. They had us up an hour earlier than usual, put us through hell, and then when they told us that we’d be getting a break, they changed their damn minds and kept us out later. Everyone’s backs were killing them by the end of that day. S’alright though. It’s gotten netter since then. You know it has.” He stopped walking, and as best he could, turned to see her. “Or should I remind you of what my back was up to last night? You seemed quite keen on it’s – Why you blushing?” Harry laughed heartily. “Honestly, love, I’ll never get why you blush when I say those sorts of things. It makes no sense really, not with how we are around each other and all.”

“I know.” She felt silly for blushing. They were beyond that point in their relationship. “I just can’t help it.”

“Must be because I awaken your girlish sensibilities,” teased Harry. “Birds blush when blokes do that. At least that’s what those crap novels you read, say.”

“Are you reading them?”

“Not now.” Harry replied as he resumed his attention to the stairs, and walked down them. “I read them all at a go last year, when you weren’t talking to me. Remember? It was after that fight we had after I got back from Africa, and before I showed up with mariachi.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Well that’s when I read them all.” Harry had gone through every Jane Austen novel, and when he’d finished those, ventured into the literary works of the Brontës. “I sort of figured that since I was rubbish at romance that I ought to give them a look, see what the fuss about them was. Personally, I'm keener on Austen than the Brontës. That Lizzy was a right pain in the arse, but she was brilliant though. And that Darcy, well, now I understand why everyone’s all wet over him. It takes a certain kind of bloke to love a bird like that.”

“And you say that from experience?”

“I reckon I do.” Harry reached the bottom stair. “I figure it’s the same as you.”

“How?” she nearly laughed.

“Well not just any bloke can be with you,” said Harry with a smile.

“Am I really that much of a handful?”

“I’ve no idea why you’re asking that, when you already know you are. S’alright though. I wouldn’t have ya any other way.” Harry grinned. “I’ll be right back, got to fetch something from the sitting room. Would ya mind letting Alistair in? Just tell him to take the luggage out to the car. I won’t be long.”

He didn’t even wait for her to say that she’d let Alistair in. Harry just took off in a sprint, determined not to waste any time. And as he ran towards the sitting room, Paulina opened the front door, letting Alistair in.

“Morning Miss Balcázar.” Alistair greeted her. “I trust you’ve had a pleasant stay in London.”

“I have, thank you, Alistair.” She stepped aside and let him in. “I'm sorry that we made you get up so early. I know that Harry and I don’t usually bother you until the afternoon, but he’s got something up his sleeves. Don’t worry, I'm not gonna pester you into telling me wherever it is we’re all going.”

“I'm afraid I won’t be traveling with you on this particular journey.” Alistair informed her.

“Why not?” asked Paulina. “I thought you were coming with us and then going to California.”

“I will be in California for the duration of his stay, but I am to have this week and a half off, and then fly out early in order to ascertain that your parent’s residence is suitable for Prince Harry. Please do not take offense, Miss. It is very much standard protocol. One must always go ahead in order to secure the location.”

“Do my parents know that’ll be happening?”

“They have indeed been made aware.” Alistair replied. “They were informed shortly after Prince Harry’s stay was confirmed by Her Majesty.”

“Oh.” Her brow furrowed. “Well, fuck, I don’t know why they didn’t mention that, but alright, um, just make sure not to eat any small red peppers from the trees we have in the back. Just avoid small red peppers. They’re really spicy. I can’t even stomach them, and fucking Luis is always offering them to people as a prank, so don’t trust him when it comes to peppers. I'm sorry that I won’t be able to be there when you first arrive to the house. It’s . . . it’s a lot different from here. My family, well, you met them here, briefly, but still they’re a little much sometimes. But just remember not to refuse any food my mom gives you. If you do, she’ll take it as a huge insult. And if my dad offers a drink, take it. Also, if you get bored and Luis is at work, and you want time away from my parents, go next door to Rudy’s house. He lives to the left. You remember him, right? He was the architect with all the tattoos. I’ll call him up later on, and tell him to take you out, there’s some really rad spots that we always chill at, so yeah, just let me know when you’ll be there, and he’ll have the time open to kick back.”

“I thank you for your concern, Miss Balcázar, but it is entirely unwarranted.” Alistair assured. “I am scheduled to arrive a day before Prince Harry and you are meant to touch ground in Los Angeles. And your brother, Luis, has already told me that he will see to my being comfortably looked after. I assured him that would not be necessary, but he has insisted.”

“I'm glad he has.” Paulina paused. “You got along well with him when he was here. I remember you two kept laughing together.”

“We did, Miss. He is very knowledgeable about British entertainment and football.”

“Then you’ll be well looked after until we get there. I just wish I could be there. You’ve always been there to help me out whenever I'm in the royal residences, and I only wish I could be there for you, to make it a little less awkward.”

“I will be fine, Miss.” Alistair smiled reassuringly. “Is this to be the luggage that I am to take?”

“What? Oh. Yeah, I mean yes! Fuck. I’d forgotten about the luggage. I always get sidetracked talking about other things, but yeah, Harry said if you could please put it in the trunk. He just went to grab something from the sitting room.”

“Alright Miss.” Alistair picked up the luggage. “Will you be exiting the residence now or waiting for the Prince?”

“I think I’ll exit. I'm pretty sure he wanted me to be in the car so he could just run in.” Paulina walked ahead and held the door open for Alistair. “Alistair, can I please ask you something?”

“Yes, Miss?” replied Alistair as he stepped onto the front porch with the luggage in tow.

“If you’re not going to wherever it is Harry’s taking me, does that mean that Kamal will be the security detail?”

“Kamal will be the head of security in my absence. There will be two other assisting him in providing protection through the duration of your holiday. One of them, you have already met, Sanjeev.”

“I remember him. He was at the Garden Party.”

Alistair nodded as he placed the luggage in the car. “The other is Gethin. You’ve not yet met him, but he is every bit as capable as Kamal and I. Rest assured that you will be properly looked after.” He closed the trunk. “In fact, Sanjeev and Gethin are already waiting at the –” his eyes grew wide when he realized he’d nearly given away the secret Harry had worked so hard to keep.

“Don’t look so scared.” Paulina said. “I won’t tell Harry that you nearly told me, and I won’t pester you into telling me. If Harry hasn’t told me, then I guess I just have to wait and see.”

“You won’t be disappointed.” Alistair reassured, smiling slightly. “I do believe Prince Harry is on his way. I hear quite a bit of cursing.”

Sure enough, the front door was soon thrown open, and from it, emerged a red faced Harry. Paulina expected him to walk out carrying some package or pulling along a forgotten piece of luggage, but he was empty handed. There was no visible item that validated his taking off in a sprint, and there was a part of Paulina that was very much tempted to ask what it was that he’d gone off to fetch. Her curiosity wanted to be satisfied, but despite that, she thought it best not to ask. If he hadn’t told her what it was that he’d gone after, it was because he wanted to keep that a secret.

“Has the luggage been seen to?” he asked Paulina.

“Yeah, Alistair already put it away.” She replied.

“Good, good.” Harry ran a hand through his fiery red hair. “And Alistair, have you checked with the others? Is everything as it should be?”

“Everything is indeed as it should be, Sir.” Alistair answered, respectfully. “I’ve also taken the liberty of phoning the café to place the order. When we arrive, it shall be waiting.”

“Well then, let’s be going.”

Alistair wasted no time in opening the door for them. His help in that department was unnecessary, they could’ve very easily gotten into the car on their own, but it was his duty to assist them, and assist them he did. He waited until Harry had settled himself in the leather seat, to close the door and make his own way to the driver’s seat.

The café they were meant to drive to wasn’t far from the residence. It was only about a seven minute drive, traffic permitting, of course, and since it was early on a Sunday, there were hardly any cars of the streets they were taking. The absence of traffic allowed them to get to their destination slightly sooner than they’d anticipated, and the moment Alistair parked in front of the Parisian style café, Harry threw the door open, leapt out, and ran inside.

“The fuck’s gotten into him?” Paulina mused allowed.

“What was that, Miss?” asked Alistair from his seat.

“Huh?”

“What was that, Miss?” Alistair repeated. “I believe I heard you speak. Was I correct?”

“You are, but I wasn’t saying anything important. I was just wondering what got into Harry. He just took off.”

“I believe that may have to do with his wishing not to waste any time.”

“I guess you’re right.” Her eyes were focused on Harry’s figure, she walked as she walked right up to the counter, completely disregarding the rather long line, and spoke to the barista. “But I can’t help but think it’s weird. I mean, whenever he wants something, he always sends you to go get it.”

“Not always, Miss.” Alistair replied. “I believe that His Royal Highness simply wished to ensure that they prepared your coffee correctly. That is not to say that I wasn’t specific in my instructions to them, but there could’ve very well been a discrepancy, and Prince Harry surely wanted to ensure your coffee would be precisely as you take it.”

She very much doubted that was the reason why. Harry wasn’t the sort that fussed over a cup of coffee. In fact, when it came to making one, he was an absolute mess. It either came out to weak or to strong, to sweet or to bitter, he’d not yet perfected the art of it, and she honestly didn’t believe the lie Alistair had just told her. She knew Harry well enough to know that he wouldn’t take off in a sprint for coffee. That was something only she would do, so Harry and Alistair had to be up to something. Exactly what that was, she couldn’t be sure, but Harry was doing something he wanted to keep secret, and Alistair was covering for him. So whatever they were up to, had to be important.

There was a part of her that wanted to pester Alistair into telling her what Harry was up to. She knew that if she pleaded long enough, Alistair would give in, he had a soft spot for her, but as much as she wanted to do that, the sensible part of her kept her from doing so. It would be unpardonable to put Alistair in such a position, and she had to respect him enough to let him keep whatever secret Harry had sworn him to.

When Harry returned, he was carrying a tray of three drinks, as well as an off white container that was blank except for the store logo on the top. He was quick to hand the drinks out. Alistair had ordered tea, Paulina was given her coffee, and Harry took his as well. With the drinks settled, he handed the box to his girlfriend, asking her to hold it while he buckled himself up.

“What are ya waiting for, Paulin?” he asked her as he buckled his seatbelt. “Go ahead, take your pastry.”

There was something in his eyes, something in the way his voice went slightly higher at the end of his sentence that made her feel there was something more than just pastries in the container. Her hands trembled slightly as they moved towards the opening, all she had to do was lift, but it seemed so much more complex. In that box, she was quite certain that there would be a clue as to where they were going. That was the only possible explanation for Harry having sprinted into the café and for his having run off to the sitting room at his father’s house. In there, there was a clue, and when she finally opened it, her suspicions were confirmed, because in that box, surrounded by croissants, palmiers, and pain au chocolate was a mini Swarovski Eiffel Tower.

“No fucking way!” she cried out, eyes wide at the sight of it. “Oh shit! Fucking – ay Dios mio! Paris?! You’re taking me to fucking Paris?!”

She didn’t even wait for Harry to respond. She hastily handed off the box to Alistair, and then flung herself at Harry, taking his lips in a heated kiss. Somehow or another, she ended up on his lap, and she honestly didn’t give a fuck that the photographers were starting to climb out of their cars, she was too lost in her excitement. Paris! She was going to Paris. Maybe others didn’t think as highly of it as she did, maybe they thought the city of lights was overrated and cliché, but she held Paris in high esteem, she thought of the writers, the music, the philosophy, the culture. And knowing that she was going to be there, when her schedule hadn’t allowed her to schedule a damn trip during her stay in England, was extraordinarily moving. And so she kissed Harry with everything she had, she kissed him until they pulled away gasping for breath.

“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Harry as he gazed up at her. “I knew you’d be pleased, but fucking hell are, you pleased.”

Paulina nodded excitedly. “You honestly have no idea how fucking stoked for this I am.”

“Well, I’ve some idea, obviously.” He laughed, rubbing her hips as spoke. “And I bet they’ve some idea as well.” He motioned towards the window, and when Paulina spotted the photographers running towards them, she started laughing. “Are ya seriously having a laugh right now? Shouldn’t you be blushing and hopping off? And fussing over them taking pictures?”

“Fuck them. Fuck the photographers. Fuck the media. Fuck them all! Because no one’s putting a damper on today,” she stated, grinning brightly. “Paris!” A dreamy look swept across her face. “I can’t believe we’re going to Paris! We’re going to be walking around and, well, I don’t know what else we’re going to be doing, but we’re gonna walk around Paris. Oh, I hope it rains.”

“You hate the rain.”

“Not in Paris.” She probably would. She absolutely hated being out in the rain, but after watching so many films in which couples strolled through Paris as it rained, she couldn’t help but romanticize it. “Not with you.”

“You must think very highly of me then.”

“I like to think so,” she whispered. “You’re my favorite person.”

“Am I?” He smiled, smugly. “Well I'm relieved to hear that, otherwise I would’ve felt like a wanker for having you as my favorite.”

“You’re still a wanker either way.” She teased. “It’s alright though. You’re my wanker.”

“I can live with that.” The shouts coming from the other side of the window brought Harry back into reality. “Alistair,” he called out. “Take us to the train.”

“We’re taking the train?” she squealed in delight.

Harry laughed, still holding onto her hips. “I meant to schedule a flight, but then I remembered you going on about how you wanted to take the train to Paris.”

“You remembered that? How’d you even remember that? I said that way early in our relationship. We weren’t even in a relationship. I told you that when you asked why I went to Bath for my birthday and told you that I had been torn between Paris and Bath.”

“Why you so surprised? I’ll have you know I remember things worth remembering. And whenever you start rambling about thing, I pay attention, because when you’re really keen on something, you ramble. When you’re not, you only go on a bit about it, and then ya move onto something else.” He lifted his right hand to her face, and gently caressed it, moving from the right corner of her lip, across her cheek, and then to her hair. “Are you really surprised about all this?”

“I can’t fake a smile this big.” She quickly told him. “Not even after all the lessons your aunt has given me. This smile is legit, mi güerito. And I'm really excited to go to Paris with you. I know I probably sound silly, because you’ve traveled so much around Europe, but Paris is this extraordinary thing to me, and it’s incredibly romantic, and it’s just . . . I don’t know, I sort of really think that it’s perfect that I'm going with you. Thank you so much for this.”

She honestly was grateful that he’d planned a trip to Paris. She was well aware that Harry wasn’t a fan of Paris. Much like his older brother, Harry preferred to stay clear of it. It wasn’t that he hated France. Nothing could have been further from the truth. He quite liked the country. The language, the women, the cuisine, it all sat well with him. He had spent many enjoyable holidays within its borders, some that he remembered better than others, but that didn’t take away from the good times he’d experienced there. To him, most of France was brilliant, most of France was good, there was just that one bit that was tainted, and as such, he made a point of avoiding Paris unless his presence was absolutely necessary.

Being in the city of lights unnerved him. He constantly thought of his mother, and found himself feeling as helpless as he had when he’d first been informed of her death. For those reasons, he kept away from Paris, but for Paulina, he would endure it, and he hoped that the joyful memories he was sure to make with her, would be enough to breathe new life into that damn city.

“Don’t thank me,” he told her, running his hand through her curls. “Just keep smiling.”