A Single Daffodil

When my alarm went off at 7am the next morning, I tried to stretch my legs out to weaken the wear of sleep but my feet were blocked by something solid and heavy.

I lifted myself up by the elbows to inspect the bottom of my bed. Jayden was sprawled across the end of my bed, face down, still wearing his clothes from yesterday. I didn’t even hear him come in last night.

I rolled my eyes and nudged him with my foot. “Hey. Hey Jayden.” I said. “Wake up.”

His groan was muffled by the mattress. It took him a second to lift his head up. There was a wet patch of drool underneath him.

“Oh gross.” I grimaced. “Jayden, what are you doing in here?”

“Is this not my room?” His voice all but croaked as he looked around my room. “Oh. Oh, ow. My head.”

“Drank a little too much wine last night?” I laughed at his disorientated state.

He slowly crawled towards me and repositioned himself next to me, burying himself into the bed the correct way. He moaned again. “I think I’m dying.”

“Uh huh.” I hummed as I pulled myself out of bed. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes as I walked over to the window and pulled the curtains apart. Just as the weather app on my phone predicted: the skies were clear. Perfect.

As Jayden concealed his entire being under the pillows and covers, I changed out of my pajamas and into a lightweight, soft woven black slip dress. The dress was perfect for a day spent in Saint Malo, with it’s open back and drapey fit with a banded scoopneck. I let my hair out of the messy bun and slipped on my simple brown sandals.

Just as I was double checking I packed everything I needed in my satchel messenger bag, Jayden lifted his head to look at me.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“The station. The Saint Malo train leaves in thirty minutes.” I replied, dropping my polaroid camera into the bag. I packed an extra case of film too.

“That’s today?” Jayden asked. “I thought you were going tomorrow!”

“I was, but the forecast for tomorrow is awful and rainy.” I answered. “So I’m going today.”

Jayden was quiet for a moment before sitting up a little higher. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, you turd-nugget.” I laughed. “There’s no way I’m taking your hungover ass with me to Saint Malo.”

He pouted but nodded in agreement. “Will you be okay? Do you know where you’re going?”

“Yes, Jayden.” I rolled my eyes and walked over to him to give him a quick hug. “You don’t have to worry about me. I got this. I’m overly-prepared, if anything.”

He didn’t look entirely convinced but he let it go by dropping back into the pillows with a tired sigh. “Alright. Well, we’ll have a bonfire on the beach when you get back. We bought smores ingredients last night.”

“Perfect.” I swung the satchel bag onto my shoulder and placed my cat-eye sunglasses on top of my hair. “I’ll make an extra batch of coffee for you so it’ll be waiting for you when you wake up. See you later.”

“Love ya, boog!” Jayden gratefully exclaimed.

When I walked out into the hallway, I made sure to tread slowly and carefully so I wouldn’t wake up any other hungover kittens from last night. Although, when I walked past the bathroom, I couldn’t prevent myself from taking a couple of steps back and peering in. A pair of feet were dangling over the edge of the tub. I pushed the door back further and looked in to see it was Niall, passed out in the bathtub. For unknown reasons, he was clutching a plush octopus toy and dicks were drawn all over his face, the doings of the infamous Liam and Jayden duo no less.

I grinned, quietly taking out my polaroid camera and taking a quick picture. Thankfully, the flash didn’t wake him up. That one was going in the book for sure.

I started rushing towards the kitchen but immediately stopped myself when I realized I forgot Harry was sleeping out here. My heartbeat quickened when I proceeded to remember last night and how…normal it was. Was that even the right word to describe it? I wasn’t sure. But it left me tossing and turning in bed last night.

It was dead silent in the living room and the kitchen, save for the hushful waves crashing against the shore outside the condo. Curiosity got the best of me, so I took two steps towards the couch area to see if Harry was asleep.

Sure enough, he was. His body was sprawled out across the longest couch, a white sheet only twisting around his bottom half. With his torso completely exposed, he rested one hand across his stomach and the other shielded his eyes from the morning sun rays that were peaking through the translucent curtains. I watched his chest rise and fall in a fluid motion like a complete creep. I would have probably started drooling too if I wasn’t so aware of how psycho I was acting. But he looked so innocent and peaceful, it was hard not to stare.

Eventually I came out of the trance when it occurred to me that I was A) being wildly inappropriate and B) running out of time. The train would be leaving in twenty minutes and the station was about a ten minute walk from here. The plan was to make a quick cup of coffee and head down there. I attentively dropped my satchel onto the empty couch next to Harry before tiptoeing into the kitchen. I tried to fill the coffee maker with water as quietly as possible, hopping the tiny noises of ’thuds’ and ’thunks’ wouldn't wake Harry up. Every time I made a loud sound, I checked behind me to make sure he was still asleep. Thankfully, he was.

As the coffee started to percolate, I ripped open the cabinet that held the mugs. They were right on the top shelf so I had to stand on my tippy toes to reach it. Once I got a firm grasp of a cup, I brought it down. But of course, the inevitable happened.

While bringing the mug down to the counter, the handle managed to clip one of the plastic bowls on the second shelf, causing the bowl to clatter onto the counter table. It clattered loudly.

“Crap!” I cursed under my breathe.

When I turned around to look at the couch area, Harry was sitting straight up, eyes squinting in my direction.

Great.

“You alright?” His voice was hoarse with sleep. I wanted to groan out loud when I felt my skin erupt with goosebumps. He sounded so cute. He looked so cute. It was annoying.

He has a girlfriend, Vita, I forced myself to think, Ease up.

“Yeah, sorry.” I whispered back. “Go back to sleep.”

Of course, he didn’t listen to me.

“It’s seven o’clock in the morning.” He stated, now looking at his phone. He yawned and turned back to me. My stomach did acrobatic flips. “What are you doing up?”

“I’m catching the train.” I said, tapping my fingers impatiently on the countertop next to the coffeemaker. Could this take any longer?

“Wait, what?” Harry stood up and sleepily stumbled into the kitchen. He was still only in his boxers. This was torture to witness up close. “What do you mean you’re catching a train?”

I forgot that Harry was completely unaware of why we were on this trip in the first place. He wasn't with us when the group decided to come to France.

“I’m going to Saint Malo.” I told him nonchalantly.

“Saint Malo?” He repeated my words. Of course they sounded much lovelier coming from his mouth. “What’s in—” He stopped short and made a face like something suddenly clicked in his mind. “Oh my God. Saint Malo. Where your Grandparents met.”

I looked at him with surprise, eyes wide. Surely his memory didn’t serve him that well? He heard my Grandpa tell that story over a year ago.

“Yes.” I finally said. I definitely wasn’t expecting that. “You remember?”

Now it was Harry’s turn to look surprised. “Of course I remember. How could I forget? That was—” He ducked his head slightly, suddenly looking sheepish. I was dying to run my hands through his hair. “—that was one my favorite stories.”

My mouth felt dry as my heart began to swell with a new sense of fondness for Harry. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I didn’t know what to say. I was positively gobsmacked.

“How far away is it from here?” Harry inquired, breaking the silence.

“Oh, um.” I felt frantic now, trying to gather my wits about me. “I think it’s a forty-five minute train ride. Not that far.”

“Why are you taking the train when we have two Range Rovers parked outside?”

“Oh, I didn’t—” Why was it so hard for me to correlate proper sentences when he was around? “I didn’t want to wake anyone—”

“I can drive.” He cut me off. “Let me take you.”

“What?” I asked, immediately astonished by his offer. “No way, you don’t have to—”

“Please.” He cut me off for the second time, his eyes pleading. “I’d really like to go with you.”

I wasn’t anticipating anyone else coming on this trip with me. Harry, of all people, was the last person I expected to go. But he remembered the story, and just like me, he wanted to see what Saint Malo was really like.

“It’ll only take me a minute to get dressed!” He took my silence as a yes. He looked excited now, and who was I to prevent that? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want him to come with me. “Just one second and I’ll be ready to go!”

I sighed and shook my head as he hobbled around the living room, quickly yanking on pieces of clothing. First the black skinny jeans were jerked onto his legs and then a loose light grey shirt. I couldn’t prevent myself from laughing when he tripped over his own duffle bag on the floor. Idiot. But I guess he was an idiot who was trying. I realize now that maybe he saw this as an opportunity to make it up to me. Maybe he felt bad after last week, and he was trying to make me feel better. I couldn’t be sure, but if he was, it was definitely working.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” I said once we started walking towards the nearest parked Range Rover. He was walking in front of me, his head slightly facing down as he fixed his hair. He fixed it into his typical Harry Styles quaff. “Because I don’t know how long I’ll be in Saint Malo and I don’t want to hold you back, or anything.”

He stopped right in front of the passenger seat door, turning to look at me through his sunglasses. Without looking, he reached behind him for the door and opened it for me. “Get in the car, Spoelstra. I’ve had enough of your dumb talk!”

I pressed my lips together, trying to suppress the smile that began to form. Without another word, I hopped into the Ranger Rover and let Harry close the door after me.

As Harry pulled out of the driveway, I could feel myself growing more and more ridiculously excited for the two hour road-trip we were about to endure. We only made one quick stop at the local gas station to fill the tank and grab two coffees to-go. Before I knew it, we were driving away from the quaint town of Bayeux and entering the scenic route to the countryside of France. The morning sun was still low enough to cast a lovely golden light over the rolling hills of vast green trees. The fields that surrounded the country road were glowing under the morning’s warmth and the dew was still plainly visible on all the blades of grass.

I relaxed into my seat, sipping on my hot cup of coffee as we drove along the twisting thicket road. Harry and I were both silent, only the sound of whatever beautiful symphony was playing on the radio filled the space of the car. That was something I did miss about being around Harry. We were both comfortable sitting in silence. It was one of our better traits that really helped us click in the beginning.

I peaked over at him from the top of my sunglasses. He was resting his left hand on top of the wheel while he kept his coffee balanced on his thigh with his right. Occasionally, he’d bring the coffee to his lips and take a quick sip before glancing over at the GPS to check that we were on the right path. He worked like clockwork when he drove.

It must have been obvious that I’d been staring because Harry turned to look at me and let out a surprise laugh when he caught me. “What?”

“Nothing.” I ducked so my hair could hide my embarrassingly red cheeks. “It’s really different here. It’s nice.”

“These country roads definitely remind me of back home.” Harry mused. We were now passing a field full of uncut lavender. As a florist, I was practically slobbering all over the window with excitement.

“Cheshire, right?” I asked, turning in my seat to look at Harry again. It was addicting looking at his face. He had one hell of a jawline, and that stupid dumb nose…I just couldn’t take it.

But he has a girlfriend now, Vita.

Harry looked slightly taken aback. “Yeah! That’s actually right. How did you know that?”

“I have your name set up on my Google Alerts.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up, like he actually believed me. “No way…”

“Yeah right. Are you kidding me, Harry? Why the hell would I have your name set up on my Google Alerts?” I started laughing. Typical, naive Harry. “You told me you were from Cheshire a while back. When I took you to the Miami arena the first time. We played the question game.”

“Of course! I’m a proper idiot.” Harry laughed too. “Wow, you have a good memory.”

“Nah, I just remember the important things.” I immediately wanted to kick myself the second the words left my mouth. Could I have sounded more fucking pathetic? Better yet, more obvious that he was still…someone I thought about on the regular?

The uncomfortable silence that followed my statement was not hard to miss.

Harry cleared his throat before smartly changing the subject. “So what’s on the agenda today? What are we doing first when we get to the infamous town of Saint Malo?”

“Well there are two places I definitely want to visit.” I answered, carefully masking how awkward I felt by reaching into my satchel and pulling out my journal and map of Saint Malo. Instead of taking the whole map of France with me, I just cut out Saint Malo and Bayeux and glued them into the journal. “I want to see the pier my Grandpa’s Navy ship was anchored to and to find the cafe my Grandma worked at.”

“That’s right, the cafe!” Harry exclaimed. “What’s the name of it again?”

“‘Merce And The Muse’” I recited the name easily. “I remember my Grandpa telling me the business was owned by my Grandma’s best friend and her family.”

“Do you think she’s still alive? Your Grandma’s friend?” Harry asked.

I sat up straight and pursed my lips as I thought about it. “I have no idea. I wasn’t actually…anticipating that.”

It was true. I wasn’t anticipating meeting anyone who would have potentially known or met my Grandparents. I assumed that it’d been forever since my Grandma left France to live with Grandpa Gene. Surely no one my Grandparents knew still lived in Saint Malo? My heartbeat quickened, realizing I wasn’t as prepared as I originally thought. What if my Grandma’s best friend still owned the restaurant? What if she was still alive? Would she remember my Grandparents?

“Oh God.” I felt winded suddenly. I looked over at Harry’s GPS. We were ten minutes away from our destination. “My stomach hurts.”

“If today gets to be too much for you, just say the word.” Harry looked over at me briefly before setting his eyes on the road. “We can always come back tomorrow.”

I turned my head to look out the passenger door window, watching the tiny city of Saint Malo come into view. The old-fashioned churches with the pointed spires stood out promptly amongst the old buildings bordering the seaside.

“No.” I said after a moment. “It’s suppose to rain tomorrow. I want to remember it exactly like this.”

Harry parked close to the train station so I could get my surroundings. I originally memorized the directions and road names in that general area.

“’Rue Broussais’” I read the road name aloud as Harry and I began to wander into the historic district of Saint Malo. “It’s this way, I think.”

As I pulled down my sunglasses to shade my eyes from the now high sun, I heard Harry giggle behind me.

“What?” I stopped to ask, quirking an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” He giggled again, catching up to where I stood, “it’s just…you sound extra American when you try to speak French.”

“Shut up!” Without thinking, I playfully shoved him backwards. “I do not!”

He laughed harder, jogging a couple of steps to catch up to me again. Just to be an asshole, he started reciting common french phrases in an exaggerated—and awful—American accent.

“Oh my God.” I let out an exasperated sigh. “You are so annoying!”

“Nah, I’d say I’m a class comedian.” He nudged my shoulder with his elbow for emphasis.

“Done with you.” I rolled my eyes at him, although I was slightly amused by his antics. It felt weird, being somewhat normal with him again.

Walking shoulder to shoulder, we fell silent once more as we took in our surroundings. Rue Broussais was a narrow street, completely tiled with old cobblestone. Each tile completely worn down and eroded, it was the kind of cobblestone that reminded you of romantic films set in different centuries. And somehow, the old and decomposed side walls of the buildings that lined the road created an incredible flow for the eye to travel. Before I knew it, I was looking up at the slightly convex cream-colored surfaces and I was taking it all in. The open balconies with white curtains flying through the sea breeze, the bed of brightly-colored flowers sitting on every other windowsill, the thicket of chimneys, the clear blue sky above. It was magic. We started walking past an array of restaurants, but no one was sitting inside them. Instead, all the natives were sitting outside with friends, smoking cigarettes and eating their late breakfast meals. The smell of fresh coffee infiltrated the air rather strongly—it reminded me of how my Grandpa’s house would always smell like coffee when I would visit him in the mornings.

“We’ve just entered a whole other world.” Harry commented as a young French couple zipped past us on a Vespa.

I couldn’t agree more.

We turned down another road and then another, walking at a leisurely pace so we could take everything in. We stopped for a couple of minutes when we found two older men playing instruments on the street; one was playing the violin, the other on a piano. A piano! I couldn’t believe it. While other pedestrians seemed to not notice the musicians, Harry and I couldn’t stop watching with astonishment.

“Danse avec la jeune femme!” The violinist suddenly exclaimed at Harry. “Danse! Danse!”

The second the violinist nodded at me, I immediately turned red and shied away. “Oh! No thank you, I’m good.”

“Come on, it’s time to samba!” Harry started to shimmy towards me with the biggest smile on his face.

“Ok, first of all, you’re an idiot if you think samba and this kind of music go together.” I took a couple of steps back from Harry. “Secondly, you’re an even bigger idiot if you think I’m going to dance—HARRY!”

I shrieked when Harry snatched my wrist and spun me into an unwilling twirl.

“But dancing’s fun!” He laughed as he twirled me into him and then spun me out again. People sitting outside a nearby cafe clapped along to our supposed performance. My cheeks turned an even brighter red.

It took another couple of dorky moves from Harry to make me laugh at how terrible we were at this. But it was funny, and I felt happy. His antics reminded of how much fun we used to have in Miami last summer. He was always the one that made an adventure a little more defiant by adding something embarrassing or courageous to the mix. Whether it was forcing me to sit on top of a bicycle’s basket while he pedaled, dipping me into a kiss for the KissCam in an arena full of people, or forcing me to dance on a cobbled stone street in the south of France, he was the one to do it. He was always the one to initiate it.

After snapping a couple of pictures of the musicians, we were on our way once more. My stomach started to do some major summersaults when Harry’s fingers accidentally grazed the back of my hand as we walked further down the street. We both acknowledged it with an awkward smile but all I wanted to do was lean into him and lace my fingers through his. I’ve missed his touch for as long as I could remember, even though he held my hand briefly last night. This awful want for his touch in general, was easily killing me.

“Hey,” Harry came to a halt and looked right at me. I was sure he was about to address the sexual tension he could clearly feel radiating off me like the sun, but instead he pointed above my head. “I think we’re here.”

I turned around and my heart dropped. He was right. We were standing right in front of Merce And The Muse.

My nerves started tingling almost immediately, a sea of anxiety drowning out all my thoughts about Harry. My jaw tightened and my palms instantly turned moist.

The outside of the cafe was just how I imagined it. Red painted panels lined the exterior of the cafe and the windows were huge, letting you see in. A couple of people were sitting outside at the umbrella-covered tables, reading their newspapers and drinking cappuccinos.

“Oh my God.” I barely whispered, staring with absolute disbelief. How strange it was to think that I had a connection to this cafe, in a town I’ve never been to, a country I’ve never visited. Yet, I had ties to this place. I’ve heard stories about it for as long as I could remember. And here I stood finally, right in front of it.

The feeling was overwhelming.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked softly.

“Yeah, I just feel slightly faint and I kind of want to throw up everywhere.” I answered. “But other than that, I think I’m one hundred.”

“Do you want to sit? There’s a bench over there, we can sit for a second—”

“No, that’s okay.” I cut him off, not taking my eyes off the outside of the cafe. I felt paralyzed. “I’m not sure what I want to do yet.”

Harry fell silent once more as we both stood in front of it. No one seemed to notice us, which was another strange feeling, because Harry Styles was standing right next to me. Usually, he was the biggest attraction within a 20 mile radius. I had a feeling, however, that Harry Styles was nothing more than another pedestrian in a town like Saint Malo.

“Do you…want to go inside?” Harry pressed.

“I don’t know.” I answered honestly, finally looking up at him. “I’m scared.”

“Whatever happens, just know you’re going to be okay either way.” He said. “And I’m here for you, no matter what.”

I nodded, turning back to Merce And The Muse. I inhaled slowly, gathering enough confidence to stand up straight and finally say it. “Okay. Let’s go inside.”

The second we walked in, the smell of vanilla and coffee engulfed us and the sound of cappuccino machines buzzed in the background. The atmosphere immediately felt warm. The lighting was dim, there were mahogany counters, the floorboards creaked underneath our feet. It had the cozy factor alright, but the French charm was just oozing from the place.

My heart was racing faster than ever before.

“Bonjour!” A girl about our age, walked up to me and Harry with a dazzling smile. She was beautiful and you could tell she was native with her tanned skin, mud-colored eyes and her brown hair was weaved into one long braid that reached her elbows. She had a white apron wrapped around her waist. “Do you speak English?”

Her accent was incredibly heavy, but not heavy enough for us to not understand her. My eyebrows shot up, excited that I didn’t have to attempt to speak French to her. That would have been a disaster. “Yes! How did you know?”

She tapped her forehead with a grin. “I know everyone in zis town. You are not from here!” After a moment she indicated the empty seats with a wave of an arm. “Seet where you like!”

“Actually…” I took a deep breath, nervous for what I’m about to ask her. “I have a question to ask you. It’s about this cafe.”

She looked intrigued, nodding her head as she waited patiently for me to continue. I looked up at Harry nervously. He also nodded his head, reassuring me that I would be okay.

“I—this is going to sound crazy,” I continued, trying to hide my shaking hands. “I have a Grandmother and she’s…she’s from Saint Malo. She used to work here and—and well my Grandpa told me her best friend’s family owned this place. I guess my question is…” It took me a second to remember the name of my Grandmother’s best friend. “Do you know a…Claudine?”

The waitress’s dazzling smile disappeared when her face dropped. Just as she opened her mouth to respond, a thin and frail-looking woman behind the counter interrupted her.

She stared right at me, eyes wide and a shivering hand right over her chest.

“Veeta” The woman said, “Vous êtes la petite-fille de Bridgette”

The second she said my name, I knew she was Claudine.

“That’s my Grandmother!” The waitress finally said, looking from Claudine to me.

“What did she just say?” Harry asked, softly placing a hand on the small of my back. I was in too much shock to ask the question.

“She just said ‘You’re Bridgette’s granddaughter’”