Letters to Paris

Chanel
Today was the day of the perfume photoshoot. I fought a smile as I sat in the silky robe with nude undergarments on as I got my makeup done. I was in the beautiful beach of Noirmoutier-en-l’Île, Vendée, five hours from my home in Paris for this photoshoot for none other than Doir for men.

When I was given the official call saying I was chosen to be the female model for this advertisement two days ago, I was with the English boys, Niall and Liam getting tea at their new favorite place. I had nearly screamed with excitement.

I didn’t have my phone on my person right now though, I didn’t want to look unprofessional. Instead I focused on trying to ready myself inwardly to meet the male model, Victor Nylander. He was a signed model for Dior and part of Ford Models. I had seen him briefly talking with the photographer and I had shot him a smile that was thankfully returned.

The stylist set me free to go get dressed and I found a beautiful nude, thin, flowing dress. The photographer and director of the shoot told we we weren’t quite set up and ready yet so I took a seat in the makeup chair beside Victor and he greeted me with a smile.

“Hello,” he said with a slight smile and a danish accent as his stylist contoured and highlighted his freckled face.

“Hello,” I replied and stuck out a hand to him.

He raised his brows as he shook, “You are from France?”

I laughed and nodded, “Paris,” he smiled and asked me what agency. “Elite, I was just signed.”

He raised his brows and thanked his stylist as they finished his make up. We both strolled closer to the set in the sand with the calm surf just beyond it. “Your first?” I sheepishly nodded. “I will be gentle.” I laughed as the photographer called out that he needed aggression and passion today, a playful tone in his voice. “Do you know Cara?”

I shook my head and opened my mouth to talk but was cut off by the director calling out that they were ready for us now. It felt like no time had passed at all when the photographer called out that he’d gotten ‘The Shot’ and for a break.

Victor and I untangled ourselves from each other, when the photographer had said he wanted passion, he wasn’t joking. A few minutes passed and we were officially let go. Victor put his number in my phone, told me he was planning on staying in France for about a week and said we should meet up. I agreed, though I was flabbergasted as to why he wanted to, I felt I had been painfully awkward during the shoot.

* * *

Five and a half hours later I sat out on my balcony in a pair of sleep shorts and a baggy crew neck with a book in hand. I was tired, but it was only just past dinner time and I knew if I went to sleep then, I would have a screwy sleeping schedule the following night.

My phone chimed again from inside of my bedroom. I figured it was just one of the English boys, they seemed to be the only people to text me recently. I sighed as it began to ring with a phone call. I rose and went back inside to answer it, Harry’s name was flashing on the bright screen. “Bonjour.”

Immediately his chipper voice floated through the phone, “Chanel! What are you doing? I’m bored and the buys are being wankers.” I fought back a laugh but failed.

“I am just at home, do you want to come over?” I asked, knowing that Mama and Papa would be fine with it. When it came to those things they didn’t mind, they trusted my judgment.

“Sure! Where is it?” I gave him the address and directions and said I’d be out on the balcony. An hour later I was sitting out on the balcony with Harry, the both of us enjoying cups of tea. “So how was the thing today?”

I smiled, “It was hard and a bit stressful, but I loved it.”

He nodded his head, “So will I see you on billboards?”

“Maybe,” I shrugged. “I think it’ll be mostly magazines though.” A small smile crept onto his face, “What are you smiling at?”

He laughed and surveyed my face, “Your accent, it's cute.” I blushed and thanked him; Harry pulled his chair closer to mine and looked at me with new eyes. “You’re cute too.”

My eyes flashed up to meet his own, he was definitely closer to me than most would find comfortable. Harry’s eyes connected with my own and then quickly down to my lips and back. I had enough experience to know what he was asking for, and I had enough experience to know I was attracted to him, just like many others were. In the time I had come to know him and his friends I recognized them as the band One Direction, minus Eleanor of course. It had been a little over two weeks of hanging out with all of them, and growing fond of all of them.

To say I hadn’t thought about ever dating Harry or Niall, or Zayn, Liam or Louis if they were single, would be a lie. I bit my own lip and let my eyes trail down to look at his lips. I let my eyes connect back with his before they slowly closed and my lips touched his in a sweet kiss.