A Single Daffodil

“I always forget how much I hate flying until I’m actually on the airplane.” Jayden fell into the seat opposite me, lifting his chin as he inspected our surroundings. “And on a tiny one, no less.”

The private jet felt minuscule in comparison to the regular airplanes I was used to, I’d agree with Jayden on that, but hell, was it fancy. The interior of the plane was minimal, with it’s beige carpet and white ceiling that casted a lovely glow from the hidden lighting. There were beige, plush leather seats to match, each one of them looking incredibly inviting for a nap (I could barely sleep a wink last night because of how anxious and excited and nervous I was about today). Some of the chairs were grouped in fours with a slick marble table in the middle, while others were only grouped in two and facing the other direction. It was cozy, quaint, and perfect for the two hour flight to France.

Three days ago, when it was decided the trois amigos trip—I’m practicing my French!—would actually turn into a neuf amigos trip, Niall wasted no time calling up their management and requesting private air travel for this lovely, late afternoon. Niall also went above and beyond and even booked an SUV that picked us up from the hotel and drove us straight to the parked airplane.

“What are we waiting for?” I asked Jayden as I feverishly snapped the seatbelt across my lap. I pulled out my new French-English dictionary and placed it on the table between us. He raised an eyebrow at the dictionary before aiming it at me. I shrugged. “In-flight entertainment.”

“What are we waiting for?” Jayden reinstated my question as he peered out the window next to him. Everyone, save for Niall, was already on the plane, settled in their seats as they chatted excitedly to one another. Niall was standing right outside the airplane with a phone glued to his ear as he used his free hand as a visor over his eyes. Why was I not surprised that we would be waiting on Niall?

I shrugged and went back to my bag, pulling out my new leather notebook. I picked up a pen and began writing out the itinerary for today. Day One, I scribbled at the top of the page, London > Caen > Bayeux. Three hours.

I didn’t know how exactly I wanted to format this notebook, but I did know I needed to document every single thing that happened in the next four days. I wanted this notebook to be filled with memories and thoughts and polaroid pictures I would take of beautiful things. I would collect flower petals, train ticket stubs to Saint Malo, receipts from restaurants. I needed everything so when I would feel myself missing Grandpa Gene, I could have all of the memories in one place. I wanted to catch his soul and place it right into this book.

Jayden’s sudden low whistle snapped me right out of my thoughts. “Oh boy…”

I looked up to see Jayden looking out the window. Wordlessly, I followed his gaze out the window.

I dropped my pen.

A second SUV pulled right up to where Niall was. The backseat door swung open and out came those stupid familiar brown Chelsea boots, paired with the stupid tight black jeans and black t-shirt combo.

As Harry swung the strap of his duffle bag over his shoulder, I turned back to face Jayden. I pushed my whole body back into my seat with frustration, letting out an ugly noise of frustration, annoyance, and agitation.

Jayden was smart enough not to laugh right on cue however, Liam, who was sitting in one of the seats opposite us, caught my reaction and couldn’t prevent his mirthful guffaw.

I picked up my pen and tapped it loudly against the table before pointing it in Liam’s direction. “You’re dead.”

“We couldn’t not invite him!” Liam defended quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t warn you because I didn’t think he’d actually come. I thought he’d be wise enough to give you space after, ye know, everything.”

Before I could retort with ‘Okay, but we all know he’s a fuckin’ idiot SO’, Niall and Harry boarded the plane.

“Awoorigh’!” Niall cheered the second they entered the cabin area. “Party’s all here! Let’s take this rendezvous to France!”

He earned himself a couple of cheers from everyone behind me. I remained silent, crossing my arms defensively across my chest as I deliberately turned my head to the window. I didn’t want to acknowledge his presence. If Harry didn’t want to be an actual moron-slash-ass, he would be smart enough not to take the empty seat across from Liam—

“You alright, Harry?” I heard Liam greet Harry as the sound of shuffling happened next to me. I glanced over for a split second to see Harry did take the empty seat across from Liam. Now he was sitting less than a couple of feet away from me.

I refrained from raising my fists and shaking them, cursing the Gods.

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry, we got a bit lost around the Heathrow entrance.” Harry responded.

I bit down on my tongue, hoping this would prevent the loud and aggravated sigh my mouth wanted to make.

Jayden, already reading my expression, raised his hands slightly and made a waving down motion. Easy, he mouthed.

Without breaking (angry) eye contact with Jayden, I lifted my pen up, made a satisfying click and then quickly scribbled down the words An idiot just boarded the plane. I’m pissed. into my book.

I needed to document everything, right?

The plane ride wasn’t as incredibly awkward as I anticipated it to be once we were in the air. I knew there was no way in fuck I was going to have a tête-à-fucking-tête with Harry for the next two hours, so I busied myself with my French-English dictionary. Of course, I could only read Bonjour, ca va? Je m’appelle… so many times before I started hardcore eavesdropping on the conversation between Harry, Liam and Jayden. Especially when Tanya came up as topic.

“Oh, could Tanya not come?” I heard Liam question Harry as I kept my eyes glued to the ‘Conversational French Phrases page.

“Er, no.” The struggle in Harry’s voice was apparent. I knew he was feeling uncomfortable talking about her in front of me. I silently mouthed random vowels in hopes to look more convincing that I wasn’t totally listening in on this conversation. “She’s busy with work. Had a couple of photo shoots and all that. She sends her love, though.”

How about she sends it somewhere far, far away from here, like North Korea because fuck her.

I guess I was tickled pink by my own joke because without realizing it, I snorted. I turned red immediately when I noticed the three of them stopped talking and were looking right at me. Harry’s stare started to burn the side of my neck.

“Sorry,I-I read something funny.” I blindly pointed at the page in front of me as I kept my eyes focused on Liam and Jayden. “French is, uh, pretty cool.”

It wasn’t my best cover-up, but it was enough to get me out of the hole. Jayden was smirking, amused by my explanation but I wasn’t sure what Liam and Harry’s reaction was.

I still couldn’t muster up enough courage to even look at Harry.

I didn’t know what the appropriate reaction to his presence was. It’s been a week since our awful argument, and I still didn’t know how I felt about it. Was I suppose to be angry at him for being accurate in the way that I’ve been acting? Was I suppose to act grateful for him coming to my rescue when I was almost taken advantage of by Teddy? It was the most complicated situation I had ever been in with a boy, and I had no idea what to do.

So I guess I’ll be taking the easy way out: ignore him until further notice.

I was pretty okay with that plan.

When the boys started talking about soccer and the girls a couple of seats down were talking about the latest Channing Tatum flick, I decided I didn’t want to take part in either conversation. So for the remainder of the flight, I put my headphones on, played my Frank Sinatra playlist, pulled my knees up to my chest and studied the feathery clouds we carefully glided through. My heart started racing when it finally hit me: I was finally going to France. For as long as I could remember, I’ve ceaselessly wondered what Saint Malo was really like. Every time Grandpa Gene told me the story, I always imagined the same kind of place. A romantic, ancient town. Cobbled stone streets. Coffee shops that led right out to the streets. Fabulous French people looking effortless as they enjoyed a cigarette with their friends. I always wanted to see it for myself. This was my chance.

When we landed, our jet rolled up right next to two black Range Rovers. Next to them, was a small man in a business suit, wearing a wide smile as his eyes followed our parking jet. I raised an eyebrow, wondering how on earth did they manage to find Range Rovers in the countryside of France.

As if Niall could read my thoughts, he slung an arm around me, “Management.” He said as everyone chatted excitedly to one another in front of us. “They really know how to take care of us!”

They sure did.

I followed him and the rest of the group out of the plane, hoisting my duffle bag higher up on my shoulder as I went down the steps. Outside, the air felt different than it did in England. First of all, there were clear blue skies, with a couple of fluffy white clouds spotted here and there. The sun shone down blazingly but it wasn’t uncomfortable like in Miami. There was a light breeze in the air to make the temperature comfortable for a Summer’s day. I did pack a parka and a couple of sweaters just in case—I heard it rained a lot in this part of France, meaning the temperatures would drop considerably.

“Ay dios mio! This is so exciting!” Sophia clapped her hands as Jayden and I opened up the trunk of the second car. I peered past the car slightly to see Liam, Niall and Harry talking off to one side as Zayn, Louis, Eleanor and Perry started packing their stuff into the first car. “We’re having an adventure inside an adventure! This is the best holiday!”

“Ease up on the Spanish words there, will you?” Jayden dropped his bag into the trunk before grabbing Sophia’s and putting it on top. “We’re in France now. We are among the French. The speakers of the Francais.”

Immediately, Sophia was offended. “And what am I, huh? Chopped liver!?” She threw her hair behind her shoulders as she walked towards the front of the car, “Whatever! I call shotgun!”

“Sophia, you tit, I called shotgun already!” Jayden ran after her. “You heard me call it on the plane!”

As the two of them argued over the passenger seat—I could hear the poor handle of the door being abused by their fighting hands—I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh. Instead of splitting them up, I dropped my bag into the trunk. I was tired, hungry, and ready to relax for the rest of the evening before my real adventure started tomorrow morning.

“Hey.”

I heard him as I pushed my duffel bag further into the trunk. I paused and closed my eyes, feeling the weight of defeat. I knew I wouldn’t be able to completely ignore Harry for the next few days.

I slowly stood back up again. “Hi.” I finally said.

“I’m riding with you.” Harry said after a few moments. “Is that cool?”

“That’s more than cool. That’s coolio.” I sniped. Sarcasm was the last thing I wanted to eliminate when I had to talk to him. “Should be a real bangin’ time.”

I didn’t have to look at Harry to know he was glaring at me. “Why do you have to be so unpleasant?”

I swung my second bag off my shoulder and threw it down into the trunk with force before turning to look at him. “Well that’s just the million dollar fucking question, isn’t it?”

I was still feeling the after effects of my outrage for him being on the trip in the first place. I didn’t want him here. He was annoying, confusing, and a downright prick for what he said to me the last time we saw each other. I was about to be as unpleasant as a thorn in his side. I was ready to be an uptight bitch until the end of time. My wrath will be never-ending.

I walked around Harry and reached the door to the backseat. Sophia was already leaning out the window of the front passenger seat, waving at Eleanor and Sophia, who were also leaning out their windows. “What’s the hold up, huh!?” Sophia shouted. “Let’s get this show on the road! Vaminos! Vaminos!”

When I opened up the car door to the backseat, I was met by a sulking Jayden. His brows formed a V and his arms were crossed across his chest.

“I hate her sometimes.” He mumbled as I scooted in next to him.



Zayn’s condo was insane.

“This place is incredible!” I exclaimed as I walked into the living room.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this place from us all this time, mate!” Liam added behind me.

My gaze wandered around me, taking in both the living room and the open kitchen area. Low-slung black leather couches with modern lines were coupled with a rustic coffee table on a grey fluffy rug. Mismatched end tables supporting matching tall metal lamps. In front of the couches was a fireplace, with a wide screen television that sat above it. The room was cozy and held a certain aura one would expect to feel when walking into a condo located in the countryside of France.

Off to the side, the kitchen was open and airy. White cabinets, granite countertops and a cute round table featured in the center of it. To the right of the kitchen and living room, there was a long hallway that led to what I suspected were the bedrooms.

But that wasn’t even the best part.

When you walk through the living room, you’re met by two beautiful French doors. Painted white of course, keeping it traditional in a way the French would.

Liam was the first to reach the doors. When he opened them, I think all of us gasped—save for Zayn, of course.

The doors led out to a wooden porch that held a couple of sun chairs and a table, but that wasn’t what impressed us. It was beyond the porch. A couple of steps away from the porch was the beach.

A large, empty, beautiful beach.

Crashing against the shore, small waves washed the night's debris onto the land. Untouched golden sand covered the floor as far as the eye could see. Soothing, a gentle sea breeze rustles through the living room. The sound of the beach was silent, save for the distant pounding of the waves and the cries of birds as they flew overhead. That certain smell of a beach filled the room immediately. It was a mixture of salt and decaying sea life. It was perfect and beautiful. In the distance, I could see what looked like an abandoned pier with seaweed covered rocked underneath it. I wondered if there was access to going up there?

“Told you it was right on the beach.” Zayn sounded chuffed.

For a moment none of us said anything. I think I speak for all of us when I say, we were pretty mesmerized by the view.

“Well I don’t know about you bitches,” Niall started, already yanking his button-down shirt from his torso. “but I’m getting in that water. Right now.”

“Race you there!” Jayden called after him as Niall started to run out to the porch and onto the beach.

“Ay, wait for me, you bozos!” Sophia called after them loudly.

Liam was next to follow suit, screaming like a maniac as he grabbed a towel out of his bag and used it as a cape as he ran towards the water.

One by one, they started running out to the beach, throwing their arms up in the air and yelling excitedly as they did so. I took a couple of steps out to the porch and started laughing when Sophia immediately ran away from the crashing waves. She screamed bloody murder when the ebbing flow of the sea touched her toes.

“They’re an alright bunch, aren’t they?” I didn’t realize Harry was also observing our friends while standing next to me until he spoke.

I squinted my eyes as I looked up at him, now aware of what he was trying to do. He was trying to make amends with me. I could see now that he felt just as unwell about our last argument as I did. He wanted things to be back to normal. But I don’t think I wanted them to. Not yet, anyways.

“Listen Vita, I—”

“Wait for me, guys! I’m coming too!” I shouted over Harry’s words before ducking past him and jumping the steps down to the beach.

I knew I’d pay for that one later. I didn’t even bother to look back to see how upset he was by my behavior. I would deal with it later.

For now, it was time to have fun with my friends.

“There she is!” Liam exclaimed, immediately picking me up when I reached the shore. I started screaming when he started to pretend that he’d throw me in the water.

“Liam! Jesus!” I laughed, kicking water at him the second he put me down.

“Oh, you’ll pay for that, Miss!” He darted after me the second I sprinted away from him.

I couldn’t believe how freeing it felt to be running aimlessly around an empty beach. I knew the second I saw the beach, that this whole trip was a good idea. That gnawing feeling of depressing was finally fading as the ocean winds whipped against my face. I was smiling, I was laughing and I could finally feel my old self coming back to me.

It was a great feeling.



“You sure you don’t want to come out with us, chicka?” Sophia was standing in the doorway of my ‘assigned’ bedroom as she fastened one of her hoop earrings to her right ear. I say assigned bedroom because there were five bedrooms in Zayn’s condo and only one of them had a single bed while the others had queen beds. I didn’t really mind letting all the couples have the queen bedrooms (yeah I’m definitely including Jayden and Liam in that mix. Their bromance is unparalleled) because this room had quite the view of the beach in the background. Of course, I briefly wondered where Harry would be sleeping but I let that thought dissipate real quick when I realized I really didn’t care.

“Positive.” I said as I hopped up on my bed. “I’m pretty exhausted after today.”

After locating the beach earlier this afternoon, we stayed out there for hours. It was easy to not realize the sun was already setting after having so much fun. Zayn found an old soccer ball in the house so I played a couple of games against the guys while Sophia, Eleanor and Sophia decided to walk into town and buy groceries for the house. It was about half past eight when the three of them came back with not only bags of French food, but also the idea of going out for drinks. While I actually wouldn’t mind going out, I was telling the truth when I said I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was change into my pajamas, climb into my bed with my map of France and plan out my route to Saint Malo tomorrow morning.

Sophia pouted. She was wearing bright red lipstick and was sporting a smokey eye Perry probably did for her—they loved doing makeup for each other. She looked like a bombshell. “Okay, mi Amore. We won’t be out too late. See you later!”

“Have fun, Soph!” I called after her.

It only took a couple of minutes before the condo went completely quiet. Finally, I thought to myself, I had the place to myself.

I jumped up from the bed and pushed the window upwards to let the cool beach breeze into the room. Because it was late into the night, the tide was so far out that I could barely see it. I could still hear it though, which instantly reminded me of how much I missed being home in Miami.

I let out a heavenly sigh as I changed into my Lebron James jersey and a pair of silk black shorts.
I tied my wild brown hair into a messy bun and pulled out all the utilities I needed to plan out my itinerary for tomorrow’s trip to Saint Malo. Pens, journal, notes and map of France. Now all I needed was a cup of tea and I was officially set.

I placed all my stuff on the bed before sauntering out into the hallway and making my way towards the kitchen. I relished in how quiet the condo was as I padded down the hallway. It was so relaxing when no one was home—

“Whatcha doin’?”

I screamed like the banshee, falling into the wall behind me when a voice came from the empty living room.

At least, I thought it was empty.

“Jesus freaking Christ, Harry.” I was clutching my heart, gasping for air when I saw Harry sprawled out on one of the leather couches. “Don’t fucking scare me like that! Are you kidding me? Fuck.”

His chin was raised ever so slightly as he gazed at me from under his eyelashes. He started grinning, slowly sitting up. I realized then that he’s taken off his jeans since I last saw him earlier, and decided there was no reason to wear a shirt either. His stomach was a lot more toned then I remembered. It was much more refined.

My entire body went useless then, realizing this. My bones turned to jelly when I realized that I was staring.

“Sorry.” He said, although it came out like ‘Sorreh’’ in his gravelly British accent. He sounded tired, which made his voice sound even more gravelly. That was my favorite type of Harry. Tired Harry.

Oh God, what was I doing? I shouldn’t even be thinking about my favorite kind of Harry. I was suppose to hate him.

“What are you doing in here?” I demanded, still mad that he scared me to fucking Egypt and back.

“This is technically my bedroom.” He indicated the living room with open arms. “Everyone else dibs the bedrooms before I could even—”

“No,” I interrupted. “I meant, why aren’t you out with everyone else?”

“Oh.” He sighed, scratching his neck. “Didn’t feel like going out, I suppose.” He reached behind him and pulled out a book that looked worn. “I decided to read a bit of Langston Hughes instead.”

I instantly became suspicious. I knew Harry well enough to know that he wouldn’t just not feel like going out. He loved going out. He’d go out with friends any chance he’d get, especially if it was in a new city or, in our case, town. It gave him a reason to explore.

I didn’t answer right away, which made him think it was his cue to continue talking. “Why aren’t you out with everyone?”

I crossed my arms across my chest, remembering that I should be guarding myself from Harry, not talking to him. “Because I’m busy doing stuff. I was just going to make a cup of tea and then go to bed.”

After I said this, I stalked into the kitchen area and immediately poured water and two teabags into the kettle. I felt a little angry now that Sophia didn’t give me the heads up about Harry not going out either. A little warning would be nice. Of course, Sophia loves being a meddler, or worse, a schemer. I wanted to kill her.

“Do you even know how to make a proper cup of tea?” Harry asked.

I turned around to see Harry was standing in the kitchen now, watching me with amusement. I tried not to look below his face but it was kinda hard not to when his abs were just…there.

“Yes, of course I do. Do you think I’m an idiot?” I glared at him before turning back to the kettle. It sat on the stove quietly. A little too quietly. Was anything even happening? I hated these kind of kettles. I wasn’t exactly experienced in using them.

“Hey genius, try turning on the stovetop.” I didn’t have to look at Harry to know he was smirking.

I ignored him, not daring to give him the attention he clearly wanted. Instead, I (painstakingly) took his advice and put the stovetop on. His presence was distracting, I knew I had to turn the stove on.

I pulled out an empty mug. Only a couple of more minutes before I can hide away in my bedroom for the rest of the night.

“Here.” Harry’s voice was soft as he pushed the carton of milk and sugar towards me.

I didn’t look up. Instead, I kept my stare on the kettle and mumbled my response. “Thanks.”

He let out a whoosh of air. “Are you ever going to stop being mad at me?”

I turned slightly to give him the side-eye. I could see that he reached up to run a hand through his messy hair.

“It depends.” I finally answered him, playing with the empty mug in my hands. Anything to keep my hands busy. I was still thinking about his toned stomach. “How much longer are you going to be a shithead?”

“I’m sorry.” He said softly.

I kept my eyes focused on the mug in my hands, now tracing the rim with my finger. “Sorry for what?”

What he did next, surprised me. He reached out for the mug in my hands and carefully placed it down on the counter. He took one my hands and enclosed it with both of his.

“I’m sorry for everything.” He pleaded. “For absolutely everything I have done to you.”

It felt like a mixture of flames and butterflies sudden erupted into my stomach the second he touched me. Fire burst into butterflies and birds. I held my breathe as I tried to not let shock wash over me as I registered the fact that Harry was holding my hand. He was holding it so gingerly and he was achingly gentle. My body wanted to sink into his touch, blazingly obvious that my body had missed his calloused and boyishly warm hands.

I tried to ignore all the feelings I was having but it was proving impossible. The need to touch Harry battled the want to also kill him, an internal brawl that was suddenly making me feel unwell.

“I’m sorry for the cruel things I said to you last week.” Harry continued, his voice careful, low and dangerously soft. “I’m sorry for not being there for you when you needed me, and for severing ties with you last year. I thought that was what you wanted, so I didn’t reach out to you. But I regret it. I truly and undoubtedly regret it. I’m sorry for…” His words drifted as his eyes travelled down the arm he was holding. I followed his eyes to see that he had spotted the fading bruises from last week’s mishap.

He looked up at me, our eyes meeting, before he lifted one hand, a finger, and ever so softly traced the outline of my worst faded memories. My skin erupted into goosebumps where the blade of his finger touched. I didn’t realize that I stopped breathing as he did it, my heart racing faster then ever before.

“I’m sorry Teddy did this to you.” He lowered his voice down to a whisper.

I wasn’t even thinking about Teddy until he said it. I was more focused on his hands being on me, and his fingertips tenderly touching my burning skin. My body was paralyzed with want. I couldn’t think straight or process the correct thoughts if he kept touching me like this.

“It wasn’t—it wasn’t your fault.” I managed to choke out.

He looked at me. His eyes were an emerald green. They were the kind of color that churned a passionate green that the ocean turned during a wild storm. The color of the forest after it rains. The color of tadpoles making ripples in the pond. The green color that brings hope and life no matter what has happened. The color of deep forest pools, the color of springtime ferns, the color of freshly cut grass, mossy green flecked with the color of pecan shell, as green as summertime water trough.

I was about to lose my mind over how beautiful his eyes were.

“Still,” He said, finally dragging his hands away from my arm. I felt disappointed immediately. “you came over here to recover from a terrible thing that’s happened in your life and I haven’t made it any easier for you. And I’m sorry.”

I chewed on my bottom lip as I mulled over his apology. Unfortunately, I could feel myself softening after I digested his apology. He was sorry, I could tell. I still didn’t feel okay about all of this, but maybe I would be. I didn’t want to be mad at him anymore. It was exhausting.

I let out an aggravated sigh, reached for a second mug and slid it across the counter to Harry. “So, are you going to make yourself useful or not? Show me how to make a ‘proper cup of tea’ then, you British wanker.”

The slang felt very foreign on my very American accent, but I tried it out anyways.

Harry grinned then, all teeth gleaming. It was obvious that he registered this action as a sign of a truce.

“Well first,” He reached over for the kettle and immediately poured it out, along with the teabags. He let out a surprised laugh. “you don’t boil the teabags in the kettle. I’ve been dying to tell you that this whole time. What a rookie mistake.”