Dreaming Of You // If I'm Still Dreaming

I came back from the bathroom and Jeanne was still lying in bed, her coppery hair contrasting with the white plenitude of her sheets. Did I have to return to bed with her or get dressed and leave? As I approached the bed I perceived her soft body confusedly mingled amidst the pillows and the sheets under a warm, trembling light. Who was I trying to fool? I wanted to stay right there above and beyond her words. If only I could get an entire day with her… But could I? I knew my mobile would be flooded by messages and calls of any sorts, that I risked too much, but I wasn’t just ready to face the consequences yet.

I grabbed my iPhone and sat by the end of the bed still not looking at it, resting the rim on my lower lip. I sensed Jeanne moving into bed but didn’t turn around. She soon held me from behind, pressing her naked breasts on my back, one elbow on my shoulder.

“Must you leave already?” She huskily asked on my ear. I instinctively threw my arm back to grab her thigh.

“I surely do…” I mumbled.

“Stay,” she said quietly.

“What?” I asked, startled, slightly turning towards her.

“Stay.” She softly brushed my hair, grazing herself on me. The tact of her bare body on my back was absolutely mind-blowing.

“I don’t know if I can. I have commitments…” I stated, squeezing my iPhone between my hands.

“Why don’t you ask if you can skip them?” She suggested, whispering to my ear.

“Are you sure?–––I replied. Haven’t you something to do as well?”

“I’ll skip it for you…” She murmured, running her arms around my neck.

“What day is today?”

“18th June –––she said. Your first show in Paris isn’t until the day after tomorrow. Why don’t you stay with me till then?”

“Would you want me to stay?” I mumbled, grabbing her arm.

“Would I be asking you if I didn’t?” Something in her voice made my lower belly lurch.

“Let me try.”

I unlocked my iPhone and a hundred alerts bombarded me, mostly from Louis and Paul, but also from Zayn and the rest of the boys. I went to Louis’ thread and scrolled it up to the first message from after his call in the cafe.

Louis: They already noticed you are missing. They’re looking for you. Call me when you can. But if you don’t I’ll understand…

Louis: Paul came to look for me and I’m hiding on the bathroom. Zayn is missing too. I’ll hang on here. Call me, or don’t.

Louis: Paul found Zayn. He just texted me he was at the hotel’s kitchen. He’s so clueless.

Louis: Paul and Zayn are calling the both of us. You haven’t called so I understand things turned out pretty well. It’s totally worth my confinement.

Louis: They’re getting nearer, I can feel it.

Louis: Oh, oh…

Louis: Paul took me out of the bathroom and is glaring at me as I type. He made me explain your ‘circumstances’ and as you are not answering his calls he’s pressuring me to bring you back. I said yes but no. Stay with her if everything is OK.

Louis: The same as before. Please, kiss her for me.

Louis: Don’t be mad at me for what I just said. It’s the pressure.

Louis: I’m entertaining Paul with false promises. But I don’t know how much longer I can bear.

Louis: I think Paul is not falling for my ruse anymore. He called me immature. How does he dare?

Louis: Harry, it’s Paul. I’ve confiscated Louis’ mobile. If you don’t bring your Casanova ass back here soon you’ll be in deep trouble.

Louis: Harry, it’s Paul. Come on, lad, be responsible and do what you have to do. Come back just now!

Louis: Harry, it’s Paul. I won’t tell you again. I want you here in no time.

Louis: Harry, it’s Paul. Louis is quite persuasive. If you just ring me it’ll be OK. Call me, you little twat. Tell me you are OK.

Louis: Harry, it's Paul. Louis is right. You deserve to live a little but you risked yourself too much leaving the hotel alone to meet an unknown girl. But I get it. I was 20 too, you know. Call me when you can but please tell me you are OK.

Harry: I’m OK.

Louis: Louis’ here. By the hour I’m sure that more than just OK.

Harry: I’m more than OK.

Louis: I knew it! Yes! Now ring Paul and sort this out.

Louis: The boys and I are doing a little victory’s dance. You should see us…

Louis: Bah, forget about us!

I laughed. Jeanne was hanging from my neck, massaging her hair, and laughed with me. I kissed her bringing her closer by the nape, and pulled from her until she sat on my lap. I made her straddle me so I could graze her pubis on my pelvis.

“Ah–––she moaned, bucking her hips. You are shaved…”

“Do you like it?” I asked cheekily.

“I do.” I fell back against the bed carrying her with me. A light moan escaped her lips again. Jeanne threw her head back, tossing her hair. At her vision my stomach stretched and my hands quickly reached for her skin. She bent down and slowly opened her eyes. “You better do that call once and for all…” She mumbled.

Jeanne got off from my torso and rolled over, stretching her arms. As she faced down she got up on her arms and legs, her hair falling wildly to the side, pushing her body out of bed. She turned away and lightly swung her hips to the bathroom as I stared at her, stupefied.

I couldn’t find my boxers anywhere so I decided to ring Paul naked, foolishly covering myself with the sheets. It rang once and he picked up.

“You, bloody, little bastard of a Styles…” He grumbled. “We were looking for you an entire hour before we realised you had left the hotel. I don’t know what she had done to you but I can tell she’s something else…”

“She is, Paul,” I mumbled and he laughed.

“French?” He asked.

“French,” I asserted and he cackled loudly.

“Well done, Harry–––he said, breathing out. So I’m guessing you want to stay with her and miss every press conference, recording session and so on…”

“Please, Paul…”

“Harry…” He groaned and there was a silence. I saw Jeanne exiting the bathroom. I didn’t want to implore in front of her.

“Come on, Paul,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Fine–––he surrendered. We’ll pick you up for sound check on Friday. Send me her address later and I’ll text you the details. Are we OK?” He inquired severely. I glanced up at Jeanne, her nudity standing right in front of me.

“OK,” I hung up.

“So, are you staying?” She asked. My eyes were fixed on the soft lines of her abdomen.

“I am,” I said and she squealed, leaping over me.

She seemed so thrilled about me staying with her I wondered how her actions could be in such flagrant contradiction to her words. But above all I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d said to her. Did I want her to fall for me? It was quite obvious she and I were two complete opposites… But Jeanne was such a marvellous creature. As we fell into a poscoital slumber she was all I could care about.

When I woke up she was sitting at the kitchen table reading some book. She smiled at me. I straightened up and grazed my eyes. I found my boxers laying out near the end of the bed. She surely had put them there for me.

“I ordered sushi. Are you fine with it?” She told me casually. I glanced at her, perplexed, and nodded in acceptation. Was she in acknowledgement of my diet? I just needed to know.

“Why sushi?”

“I usually order sushi three nights a week…–––she explained, looking at me with curiosity. Is it OK or do you want something else?”

“No, it is perfect to me,” I grinned, putting on my boxers. I walked towards her. She was wearing just a nude coloured slip and had some large framed reading glasses on. I took her book from between her hands and dropped it over the table. I made her stand up and sat on the chair, bringing her to sit on my lap. She took her glasses off. “I’ll need a few things,” I mumbled.

“You just need a toothbrush and I have a new spare one on the bathroom drawer…” She smirked.

“How do you casually have a spare toothbrush on a drawer?”

“I live in Paris–––she asserted, poking my chest. You don’t even imagine how many guests I receive each year.”

“OK,” I said. Suddenly she straightened up.

“That’s Mitsuo,” she said, grabbing her wallet and jumping off from my lap.

“Mitsuo?”

“My friend from the Japanese restaurant,” she explained holding the doorknob.

“Are you opening dressed like that?” I questioned her.

“Yeah,” she muttered. As she stepped back pulling from the door I abruptly stood from the chair and walked towards the terrace window, still open from before, and stepped outside.

Night had already fallen and Paris shimmered at my feet. A strange feeling swarmed me. I approached the bench and leant out, mimicking Jeanne’s attitude from earlier. I felt so little on top of that huge city. There was a mild wind blowing directly at my face. I inhaled deeply, pushing the air throughout my body and stood there with my eyes closed until I felt Jeanne’s hands running around my waist. What was going on with me? I grabbed her wrist and turned towards her.

“I’m sorry,” I simply said.

“About what?” She asked, puzzled. She could practically be a PhD but she hadn’t realised I felt jealous.

“Would you let me pay for dinner?” I hurried to say, knowing it would draw attention from my prior words.

“By no means,” she smiled to give me a quick kiss. I cupped her face around my hands and deepened it, reaching for her tongue eagerly. Her mouth felt so fresh. She grabbed my wrists. “Let’s dinner,” she grimaced. When we got inside it surprised me she had laid a perfect Japanese table.

“Would you prefer I get dressed in order to sit at the table?” I asked her politely.

“How do you feel more comfortable?” She said, quite surprised.

“Just like that,” I chuckled.

“‘Just like that’ is also perfect for me,” she grinned, sitting down. I rushed to push her chair for her. “Thank you,” she mumbled with her hand covering her mouth. I sat down myself and we started to dinner. “So, how did you find out who I was?” She asked smiling mischievously to another direction.

“We researched,” I stated proudly.

“Oh, yes, you researched…–––she ironised. And your method was…” She challenged me.

“Deductive,” I said.

“Bravo, Monsieur Styles,” she exclaimed. Her French was so damn hot. “Well, tell me more. I want to know everything…”

“Well, the boys and I, plus Stan, Louis’ best mate from Doncaster, analysed your writing and then checked every fact you wrote on your Fan Fictions–––I explained to her. I don’t know how but Louis knew who you were from the very start. He sensed you, so when someone from a pub told Stan your name, they called every Department at La Sorbonne until they found you.”

“They must love you very much…” She muttered, lightly frowning. I chuckled at her words. She was so thoughtful.

“Then I told you I was coming to Paris see the boys, you confirmed your name to me ‘et voilà…’” I said and she giggled.

“You did a great job–––she claimed. I never imagined someone could track me down, but I guess we put too much of ourselves in our writing without even realising it…”

“Yeah, but we’re not just like anybody. We’re One Direction…” I joked.

“I see that…” She raised her eyebrows.

“Well, tell me something about yourself,” I said. Mainly all I knew about her was from Fan Fiction and I was dead curious. “I don’t want this to be exclusively about me.”

“What do you want to know?” She asked playfully.

“Everything…” I observed and she laughed.

“Well, I have two degrees at La Sorbonne–––she started and my eyes widened. One in Comparative literature and another one in Psychology…”

“Louis was right about this too!” I practically shouted.

“Well, that Tommo bear is quite an individual,” she remarked. For sure he is almost as a soul mate to me. “On my last year in college I went abroad to London to finish my first degree, but you already knew that–––she grinned. When I came back I finished the second one and simultaneously I made a Master degree on Literary Studies.” I glanced at her in disbelief. What was her IQ? “Then I took one semester off to travel. I got an Eurail pass and travelled around Europe. At some point of summer of 2012 I stopped here in Paris and watched the Olympics, as you already know. Then I went to Japan and once I came back I began to work on my PhD thesis and here I am…” She said, shrugging with the palms of her hands facing up.

“I know it’s a lot already, but don’t you work?” I asked.

“Bien sûr je travaille !–––she exclaimed, offended. Sorry, of course I work, and too much, for the record.”

“And what do you do?”

“Well, I’m not a therapist just yet; I’m not ready for that–––she explained. Besides my research assistant’s position at La Sorbonne, I work as a translator. It’s hard but pays really well. I also write articles for magazines and other sort of publications, mainly about arts, literature and culture in general. But mostly…” She interrupted herself, glancing down.

“What else?” I insisted, acting casual.

“I work as a nude art model…” She smirked.

“What?”

–.–.–

Notes

Should I have to write a little summary of facts we know about Jeanne Mars? I'm starting to believe Harry had bitten off more than he could chew... That's what happens when you jump into bed with strangers xD Check first if you can manage... Many, many more surprises to come!

Thanks to you all, lovely, clever readers, for sharing your time with this story! Thank you, girls, for your comments and constant support. Stay lovely and curious!

Love you all.