The Love Club

Harry’s kiss leaves me disoriented, but at some point I stumble back to my hotel room and find the time to change into work clothes. The boys have another interview in an hour, which leaves me off the hook as far as the fake personal assistant gig goes. Just as this thought crosses my mind, a knock is heard at my door.

I drag my feet to the peep hole, unwilling to face any members of One Direction after the embarrassment of breakfast. I’m surprised to see Lou, arms crossed over her chest as she waits in the hall. Slowly, I pull open the door to reveal her. Her hair is up in a messy bun, a mirror in one hand and a brush in another with her arms crossed over her chest. When she looks at me, she has a fire in her eyes, but she smiles kindly at me.

“Just the woman I was looking for,” she says.

I’ve spoken to Lou only in passing, mostly in the dead time before shows. Occasionally, I’ve taken to helping her clean up her mess of hairsprays and make-up cases, or at least entertained Lux long enough to let her do it without the toddler demanding attention. I know she’s one of Harry’s good friends and confidants, and I shift my weight from one foot to the other as I try to puzzle out what she’s doing outside my door.

“Lux is feeling poorly,” she says with a sigh. “I have to get the boys ready and she’s screaming about her stomach. I really hate to ask, but could you possibly sit with her while I finish getting everyone camera ready?”

My plans this morning mostly had to do with petting my cat and wallowing in self pity, but I suppose I can put it off for this evening.

“Sure,” I shrug. “No problem.”

She lets out a breath of relief, a smile breaking out on her lips that lights up her entire face.

“Thank you,” she tells me earnestly as I shut my door and step out into the hallway with her. She wraps her arms around me in a hug and I let out a nervous chuckle, standing awkwardly before she lets me go and begins to lead the way.

“I meant to ask how you’re doing,” Lou says once we’ve arrived at the elevator. She presses the button for the top floor before taking a few steps back and leaning against the rail that runs the perimeter of the lift.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you were a little uneasy there at the beginning of tour, but it looks like you’re doing okay now. You seem a lot more at ease,” she continues.

“It took some time to adjust, but I think I’m getting used to it,” I answer.

She doesn’t say anything else as she studies me through a reflection in the mirrored elevator. There’s something knowing about her stare, the way her eyes bore into me, that makes me nervous. I cough noncomittaly into my sleeve as the lift stops and we step off it.

“Mina!”

My name sounds like a harmony, said simultaneously in Lux’s high-toned voice and Liam’s lower one. The blonde-haired toddler sits on Liam’s lap in a chair sat beside Zayn, whom Lou is getting to work on. On the other end of the room, Harry is being fitted by Caroline while Louis and Niall joke with the journalist interviewing them. Cameras are being set up by men in bootcut denim and nondescript tee-shirts. They wear baseball caps and quietly do their work without comment on complaint.

“Hey, guys,” I answer them, making my way over to where they sit.

“This one,” Liam says, pointing to the girl pouting in his lap, “Demanded your presence.”

He stands, picking Lux up with him. She reaches out her arms for me and I accept her with a soft smile. She feels light in my arms as I hold her to me, using my other hand to brush a piece of hair from her face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, frowning at her dissatisfied facial expression.

“Tummy,” she huffs, slouching into my arms. Somehow this makes her feel heavier, and I take the chair Liam has vacated.

“What will make it better?” I ask.

She doesn’t respond but to rest her head on my shoulder. Her eyes fall shut and I reach up to feel her forehead. She feels warm, slightly feverish, and I voice this concern to Lou.

“Not much I can do at the moment. When I finish cleaning up here, I guess I’ll call in someone else for the show so I can take her to a doctor,” she replies.

“Do you want tea?” I ask, looking down at the three-year-old in my arms. She only nods her head.

I bite my lip as I glance around the room, unsure of how I’ll manage to make tea and keep Lux stable at the same time. My eyes meet Harry’s, who must have been watching for a while now. He blushes slightly at being caught, but I’m not about to pester him when I need his help.

“Lux wants tea,” I call to him.

“What do you want me to do about it?” he asks, as if he’s perplexed as to why I’m voicing this to him.

I roll my eyes, knowing he’s only teasing. He makes his way over to the far corner of the room where a small beverage and snack bar has been set up.

Lux groans in my arms, and I loosen my grip on her as she shifts her position to something more comfortable. She keeps her eyes closed as she yawns.

“Here.”

Harry’s voice is velvet, soft and smooth as he hands me the cup. Goosebumps prick on my arms, but I accept the cup from him with a quiet thanks and begin to blow on the liquid to cool it down enough for Lux to drink. Her left eye opens slightly to look at Harry, who stands over my shoulder. He makes a face at her and she giggles.

“Harry!”

It’s Niall who calls to him, and I follow the sound to see the rest of the band has settled into their seats for the interview. Harry reaches forward a hand to soothe down Lux’s back before walking over to where he’s needed. Lux reaches for the tea and I allow her to take it from me as I watch the boys begin the interview.

For the most part, it’s routine. The journalist asks a general question and each boy takes a turn answering. Every once in a while Zayn gets a question about his engagement or Niall is asked about being recieved back in Ireland. It isn’t until the end that they address Harry separately.

“So Zayn’s engaged and everyone’s in a committed relationship apart from Niall, so what’s up with you, Harry?” the man asks as he leans back in his chair, his leg crossed over the other.

“Just a world tour. The usual,” Harry shrugs jokingly as he adjusts his weight in the chair.

“Well it’s easy to link you to almost any girl in England at this point, if the tabloids are to be believed,” the journalist quips with an easy smile. “But surely by now you’ve been in love at least once?”

Harry chews at his lip as he contemplates this, his head cocking to one side as he tries to decide the best way in which to answer. Lux wiggles in my arms, the tea half-gone. She’s tired of holding the cup, so I take it from her and sit it on the ground, slightly annoyed at having to focus my attention elsewhere for a moment.

“The thing about being in love,” Harry begins, and I’m nearly leaning forward in my chair at this point, “is that I think it only really happens once. Like, you might think you’re in love, but then that relationship ends and you see everything that was wrong with it. It was just this temporary illusion of love.”

He pauses a moment, running a hand through his hair, and the journalist opens his mouth to say something, but Harry picks up again.

“With that being said, I also think the word ‘love’ alone has sort of lost its lustre. I can say I love my mom in the same way I can say I love cheese fries. So I’m much more careful about saying if I’m in love, because that holds a different weight for me. And I think when you’re truly in love, that’s a for life thing.”

“So that’s a no then,” the journalist grins.

Harry laughs. “Yeah. That’s my wordy way of saying no.”

“Thanks again, Mina,” I hear quietly in my ear, and I start slightly, blinking in surprise as I turn to look at Lou. She leans down and scoops her daughter into her arms, a dead weight now that Lux has fallen asleep.

“No problem,” I reply just as quietly, wary of how much those boom mics can pick up in a room. She smiles at me before glancing over to the boys. I can’t be sure, but I think her eyes land on Harry.

“Smart kid,” she comments. Then, with a sideways glance at me, “Great taste in women.”

She’s gone before my blush has fully formed on my face. I wonder what she knows, if he’s spoken to her at all about me. Heart beating wildly, I stand and straighten my dress. I try to ignore Harry’s gaze as I make my way to the door and take my leave.

–

Lux had the flu.

I have the flu.

My week has been spent in bed, or in back seats of tinted SUVs alone. I feel like I’ve been run over by a frieght truck, even after the vomiting and chills are over. Quarantined from the boys, I’ve been getting updates on our whereabouts via texted photos. Today, it’s France.

Perfect.

I’m on the mend now and should no longer be contageous, at least according to the doctors Niall has been sending my way every few days. Mostly, I feel weak as I lay in bed and pet Gatsby, glancing wistfully out the window every so often at the Parisian streets that lay beyond my grasp.

I haven’t had human contact in three days now, which is why I’m so startled by the knocking that sounds at my door. Gatsby looks to the door, then to me, just as stunned as I am. This last week has been her own personal heaven; nothing to distract me from giving her my undivided attention. She’s had more petting and loving in this past week than she probably has her whole life, and I can see in her eyes that she senses it’s about to disappear from under her. She hisses.

Rolling my eyes, I throw the blankets back from the bed and gather the strength to stand and cross the room. I’m wearing a pair of black sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt of my dad’s. When I Skyped him earlier with Felicity, he looked glad to see it. I think it makes him feel closer to me, so I made mental note to wear it more often.

I stand on my tip toes to look out the peep hole, surprised to see Niall in the hall outside my door, hands shoved in his pockets. For a moment, I hesitate to open the door, unsure if it’s really safe to let him in. I can’t imagine the flack I’d recieve if I was the one responsible for the whole of One Direction coming down with influenza.

“What is it?” I call.

Niall frowns at the small glass window in the door. “Let me in and you’ll find out.”

“I might still be contageous.”

“You’re not contageous. You haven’t been for a few days, but I thought I’d wait it out just in case. Let me in,” he answers.

With a defeated sigh, I undo the deadbolt and pull the door open. Niall moves past me without comment, only turning to look at me once he’s inside and I’ve shut the door.

“You look like death.”

“Good to see you, too, friend,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. With my red nose and hollow cheeks, the dark circles beneath my eyes and the pallid color of my skin, his thoughts aren’t far from mine but I still don’t appreciate the comment.

“You should probably clean yourself up for tonight,” he replies easily, throwing himself backward on my bed as he reaches for Gatsby and pulls her to his chest. She doesn’t resist, despite the fact that she was hissing at him not five minutes ago. She takes affection where she can get it.

“What are you talking about?” I wrinkle my nose at the thought that I’m going anywhere tonight.

“Tinley’s on her way in. I need you to show her where the restaurant is, since I’m going there straight from the venue,” he explains.

“What is Tinley doing in France?” I ask, taking a seat on the bed beside him. He pauses in his actions as he furrows his brows and gives me a look.

“Mina, we’re in Paris. It’s the city of love,” he tells me.

“Actually, it’s the city of lights,” I correct him. He continues as if he hasn’t heard me.

“It’s the city of romance,” he stresses.

“How did you talk her into that?” I ask skeptically.

“She’s never been to Paris,” he shrugs. “Not a hard trip to sell to anyone, really.”

“You bribed her into spending time with you by promising her a free trip to Paris,” I conclude.

“I didn’t bribe her into anything,” he responds, glaring at me. “We had a good time the last time we went out. We’ve been texting since.”

“Good to hear,” I conclude. “But why can’t you just send her in a car?”

“You’re the only other person she knows here. I want to make her feel comfortable, not abandoned and left to fend for herself,” he scoffs.

I roll my eyes as I lay down backward in the bed beside him. He looks over at me and I make a face at him. He’s unafraid to make one back.

“I’m sick,” I whine, a last-ditch effort to get out of leaving my bed before I’m fully recovered.

“You were sick. And now you’re recovering. A night out would do you good.”

“It’s not like I’m sitting in on dinner with you,” I roll my eyes. When he makes no response, I freeze. “I’m not sitting in on dinner with you,” I repeat.

“This restaurant we’re going to, it has these rave reviews. Really cool location, it’s one of those total blackout places...”

“Niall, I am not third-wheeling your date. I’m your matchmaker, not your chaperone.”

“Funny, I thought you were my friend,” he says.

Damn. He got me there. Sensing victory, he smiles.

“The driver will be outside at ten,” he tells me. “Wear something nice.”

With that, he pushes himself up from my bed and strides over to the door. I glare at him the entire way, up until he disappears into the hall. When he’s gone, I force myself up and to the shower, grumbling and cursing him the entire way.

–

In a black dress with gold detailing, Tinley is a total knockout standing in the streetlight beside an idling car. The summer air is cool, and she hugs her arms to herself as she shifts her weight from one platform heel to the other. I’m feeling less than enthusiastic as I push my way out of the hotel lobby and stumble out into the cobblestone street in a pair of shiny new stilettos I haven’t had the occasion to wear yet.

“Thank God,” she breathes at my appearance. “I wasn’t sure you’d show.”

“Niall didn’t give me much of a choice,” I grumble in response before thanking the driver for opening the door for us. I slide in beside her in the back and sink into the leather seats with a sigh of relief. I’ve nearly used all my energy already and we haven’t even left the hotel yet.

“He’s quite persuasive,” she agrees. Then before I can make comment about anything, she says, “You look great, by the way.”

I mumble a thanks, frowning down at my dark green dress. It’s more appropriate for winter, but it’s all I have clean. The skirt is detailed in lace and it itches my legs without stockings, but I appreciate the compliment nonetheless. Especially when my make-up hardly does anything to bring any sign of color to my lifeless face, despite the layers of blush I’ve piled onto my cheeks.

“It’s good to see you again,” I tell her, leaning back into my seat. In this near reclining position, I feel slightly less nauseous.

“I hate admitting defeat,” she sighs.

“Then don’t,” I shrug.

She eyes me warily, but I’m indifferent. Exhausted more than anything, I’m not up to hearing any sort of apologies she has to offer me. I just want to move onto the next stage, which is getting her into the restaurant and distracting Niall long enough to let me slip out early.

“I was really shitty toward you,” she admits.

“Forgiven. We’re here now, so it’s all good,” I answer.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“You don’t want me to apologize or grovel?”

“I’m grovel-free.”

She seems offput by this, but doesn’t say anything else as we make our way through the streets of downtown Paris. Since this is my first time actually venturing out in it, I can’t help but stare out the window in awe. I lean forward in my seat, trying to catch a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower in the street ahead of us. It slowly becomes larger as we approach it. On either side of us, trendy Parisian residents walk confidently down the sidewalk, not batting an eye at our inconspicuous car as we bound through the city.

We pull up curbside to a nondescript building. Much like the neighboring structures, this one is white-washed brick and slightly eroded with age. Tinley steps out first, and I follow, shutting the door behind us as I try to get my bearings.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Getting over the flu, actually. I’m weak, but I’m not contageous.”

She nods before taking a deep breath and plunging forward to get the door. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was almost nervous. I eye her curiously as I step into a brightly lit room. A host stands behind a podium with a waiter beside him, but the room is too small to be the dining area. I bite my lip nervously as Tinley tells him we have reservations.

“Zachary will show you the way. If you could place your hand on his shoulder,” the host says, gesturing to Tinley. She furrows her brows at the odd instruction, but does as she’s told. The host continues, gesturing for me to take hold of Tinley’s shoulder next.

Zachary begins to walk forward slowly, Tinley following with me holding up the back. He opens a door into a dark hallway and asks me to shut it behind me. When I do, we’re immersed in complete darkness. I glance behind me at the small sliver of light that is cast beneath the door. Ahead I remember seeing a black curtain, which parts to allow us in. Here is the normal commotion of a restaurant; the clinking of glasses and the sound of conversation and laughter. I see nothing, stumbling forward uncertainly.

Vaguely, I remember Niall saying something about a blackout restaurant, but I had been too preoccupied to ask what that meant. Now the picture is clear, and I sigh inwardly, blindsided quite literally. Maybe in the darkness, if I keep quiet enough, no one will notice when I slip away.

“Your table is just to the left,” I hear Zachary say to Tinley. She moves out of my reach and I freeze in panic for a moment before I feel a hand on my wrist, the other on my lower back guiding me forward. My knee hits a chair and I gasp in shock, but Zachary guides my hand to the back of it and I slowly lower myself down.

“Thanks,” I breathe out, still completely freaked.

“Your server will be with you shortly,” I hear him say. I can’t be certain he’s gone, but there’s a silence that would surely indicate that he has disappeared. Hesitantly, I reach forward for the table. My fingers are met with rough cloth, and I feel around until my nails click against cool, wet glass that I assume is water. Grateful, I take it in my hand and raise it to my lips. I almost sigh at the feeling of water in my dry throat.

“Fancy meeting you here,” a low voice says beside me, and I almost spit out my drink.

“Bloody hell,” I groan, and hear Harry’s answering chuckle.

“Just what I like to hear from a woman after a week of being gone,” he jokes.

“I should have seen this coming,” I think aloud.

“You should have seen this coming,” he agrees.

“Niall, where are you?”

“I’m not sure I should answer that,” I hear in his thick Irish accent.

“He’s generally to my right?” I ask in Harry’s direction.

“Roughly, yeah,” Harry answers.

I reach forward a stilettoed foot until I feel Niall’s calf. Once it’s located, I give it a good kick and he yelps in pain.

“This wasn’t even my idea!” he whines. I roll my eyes, though I know he can’t see it. All the better to hide my blush at the mention of it being Harry’s idea.

This is so far up his alley that I can’t believe I didn’t realize it earlier. A restaurant with a dining room immersed in complete darkness right in the heart of Paris. It’s quirky and cute and just a little romantic, and it’s then that it occurs to me that I may have just stumbled into a date.

A date.

I feel a nausea consume me that has nothing to do with the virus I’m getting over. Luckily, a waiter greets us in the darkness before I have the chance to overthink this and vomit. He recites a long list of food that I barely have time to process before he’s asking for our orders. I allow Niall and Tinley to go first while I think this over.

“What are you going to get?” Harry asks, his voice low near my ear. I can feel where his arm is slung over the back of my chair, which he has somehow managed to locate even in the pitch blackness of the room. I surpress a shiver.

“I’m not too hungry, honestly,” I tell him.

It’s the truth. After all the vomiting I’ve done in the last week, I don’t feel much up to steak or salmon. Let alone trying to figure out a way to eat it in the dark.

“You should still probably eat something. It might make you feel better.”

“I don’t want to,” I whine.

I expect to hear a chuckle, but instead I’m met with silence. A heartbeat passes, and then, “Do you want to share?”

I’m glad for the darkness, because I can’t help the smile his suggestion causes.

“Depends on what you’re getting,” I respond easily.

Oh, good one, Mina. Smooth. It’s amazing how sassy I can get when I’m not under that god-awful green-eyed stare.

“Well I might get stoned if this leaks to the media, but honestly I’m just craving some chicken tenders.”

I laugh, leaning over to one side. I hit the side of his body on accident, not realizing how close we really are, the way he’s leaning toward me while we decide on what to eat. He’s warm and tempting, but I automatically sit straight up again. Reflex.

“Sounds good,” I tell him earnestly, and he repeats the order to the waiter.

“Chicken tenders for the lamest couple in the European Union,” Niall says sarcastically. I flush scarlet at the use of the word ‘couple’ in reference to Harry and I, but Harry rises immediately to our defense.

“At least I didn’t sound like Tourist-y McTourist trying to speak French. You can’t pronounce for shit.”

“True,” Tinley chimes in.

“You’re supposed to be on my side.”

I can practically hear the frown in Niall’s voice, and I throw my head back in laughter. When it comes forward again, Harry’s hand moves with it, coming to a final rest on my shoulder. It’s a casual move, but one that I couldn’t ignore if I wanted to. I find myself leaning into him.

“See, you take a girl to Paris and you still can’t impress her,” Harry jokes.

“Well I could say the same to you,” Niall immediately replies. “Could hardly persuade Mina to leave her hotel room.”

“Didn’t know I’d be here, did she?” is Harry’s answer, and he reaches up in the dark to find my cheek to poke it. I respond by nudging him hard in the side.

“I’m sure that would have made the situation infinitely harder, not easier.”

The banter continues until the food arrives. It’s easy this way, Tinley and I chiming in occasionally while Harry and Niall bicker. I’m surprised at how relaxed I feel, sitting in a lightless room beside Harry, picking at a plate of chicken tenders. His arm stays slung around my shoulder, even when the food arrives. He’s somehow managing to only eat with his right hand, and while it’s something that would be comical in the light, I appreciate the gesture in the dark. It’s almost funny how I’ve felt his lips against mine, his breath on my cheek and his nose tracing freckles up my neck, but somehow this feels more intimate. Simply sitting in his heat, his arm around my shoulder while our fingers occasionally brush on accident picking at food, quiet apologies we’re really unapologetic about passing between the two of us. It feels right.

When we’re finished eating, Niall suggests we take to the streets. It’s nearly midnight, but I don’t feel so tired. Unfortunately, I do feel a little weak still, something Harry notices even in the dark as he leads me by the hand to the exit.

“Are you feeling all right?” he asks as we walk down the corridor that leads back to the lit entrance.

“Just a little exhausted physically, but I’ll survive,” I answer.

Niall pushes open the door and I blink up at the sudden influx of light. It hurts, so I shut my eyes a moment before bracing to open them. When I do, Harry’s before me, watching me curiously. I swallow thickly.

“Do you want to go back to the hotel?”

I bite my lip as I consider this. The door opens and I glance over to see Niall with his arm wrapped around Tinley as they step outside. He’s making some sort of lame joke and she laughs, bending forward toward him when she does.

They don’t know it yet, but they’re in love. When I look back at Harry, I want to be, too.

“No, let’s see the city,” I say.

His green eyes study me for a moment longer before he breaks into a dimpled grin. Whatever he reads in me must give away what I’m feeling, because he easily slips my hand in his and holds the door open for me. I thank him quietly.

Standing on the street with our fingers entwined, laughing while we watch Tinley try to teach Niall a proper way to waltz in the street light slightly tipsy from the wine at dinner, my heart swells. I look at the boy beside me, trying to imprint the way he looks standing there into my memory. His black button-up is buttoned down in his signature look, his dark skinny jeans tucked into a pair of Chelsea boots. His hair falls in curly tendrils to his shoulders and when he laughs, his eyes crinkle at the edges. I think that despite the fact that he makes music for a living, there’s no other sound I’d like to hear more from him.

For this one night in the most beautiful city I’ve ever laid eyes on, standing hand in hand with a boy who could light up Paris itself, I don’t think about the logistics or Victoria or my imminent departure from this tour now that I’ve done what I’ve come here for. For just this moment, I choose to be selfish as I lean into Harry’s side and we make our way further into the heart of the city.