A/N: This was a request from the lovely @pzb2006 who asked for an imagine about a girl names Paris who was in Italy while Harry was shooting for his Golden music video and he wanted her number.
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Paris was never a particularly adventurous girl, she always wished to be and fantasized about a life of excitement and travel, but she was sure she would be doomed to boredom for the rest of her life. Nothing exciting ever happened to her. It was like she lived her life like the movie Groundhog Day, the same day repeating over and over and over. She was sick of it. And it was on her eleventh straight day of eating the same, boring old cereal for breakfast when she decided she needed a change.
Immediately, she began to do research. At first, she was thinking of something more local; maybe a trip to the city, or the beach. Then she started to broaden her search. Maybe something on the opposite coast. That could be exciting. But, then she paused. If she was going to go on an adventure, she wanted to make it big. She decided to explore the idea of another country. There were so many to choose from. Africa always sounded interesting Then there was Greece; she’s wanted to go there since she was little and watched Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. And, of course, there was Paris, the city of which she was named after. The City of Light.
But only one country stood out to her. Italy. She found herself constantly circling back to Italy, imagining herself strolling along the Amalfi coast and having lunch, alone, in the park. Meeting some mysterious and handsome Italian boy in the shops along the cobblestone. Relaxing alone along the shoreline, watching the sunset. It sounded like a dream. And finally, she booked a flight for her week-long vacation.
Paris spent the first day exploring the ruins of Pompeii and getting warped into the history of the city. She spent the second day at the beaches of Sorrento, letting the sun kiss her skin and the calming water rinse her of her worries. On the third day, she woke up energized, excited for her full day ahead. Paris enjoyed waking up knowing there was no set-schedule, nowhere she had to be at a certain time. She could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted.
In the morning, she took a stroll from her Airbnb to a little coffee shop down the street, deciding to have her little pastry and coffee outside on the patio, again, letting the warmth of the sunshine on her face. She stayed there for an hour, watching the locals walk by, smiling and laughing at each other. Everyone here seemed to be full of life and love; they all seemed genuinely happy. And, at this moment, so was she.
After breakfast, she decided to walk around some more. She visited shop after shop, never buying anything, but making mental notes on shops she wanted to return to before leaving to grab a few souvenirs. Finally, she ended up in a quaint, local grocery shop. Paris had every intention of just grabbing a few things to make back at her Airbnb, but when she saw the picnic basket, her plans changed. She wanted to have a picnic at the park across the street from where she was staying. It was the whole reason she booked it in the first place. It was large and spacious with beautiful cyprus and fruit trees scattered about, overlooking the ocean. And from what she could tell, hardly anyone ever went there. It sounded heavenly.
She went about the grocery store picking up way too much food for one person. How could she not? Everything looked so much better in Italy. Strawberries, a sandwich, pastries, soft pretzels, cookies, and two bottles of water. There was no way she’d be able to eat everything, but she’d sure give it her best shot. But first, she needed to stop by her place. Although it was warm, she thought it would be a good idea to grab a light sweater, just in case. Besides, there was a book in her luggage that she fancied a read, and this would be the perfect opportunity.
Her stomach grumbled when she finally got through the door of her lodgings. ****** Better make this quick, she thought, ******* I’m starving. She set everything down on the dining room table as she hurriedly rummaged through her belongings for a sweater and her book. She upturned everything, unsure of where they were when she remembered leaving them both out on the balcony the night before. As soon as she grabbed it, she flung her sweater over her shoulder, palmed the book, and shoved a pair of sunglasses on top of her head before rushing in, grabbing the picnic basket full of food, and heading out the door.
Paris fast-walked down the cobblestone hill, hiking the sweater that was slipping down her one shoulder while trying to carry the heavy basket and book with both hands as her sunglasses wobbled further down her head, practically sitting on her forehead, now. There was a crowd of mostly girls lining the road at the end of the street, all looking in one direction. ***** Maybe there’s a parade, she thought to herself as she neared, closer.
There was no time to stop and watch, the basket was getting heavier and she was certain she would burst if she didn’t get food in her soon. As she reached the crowd of girls, she noticed a red convertible mustang drive past with people hanging out the back and sides of it. The girls began to scream and jump up and down. Paris tried to look over the heads of the girls, but couldn’t see anyone else coming and figured it was a good opportunity to cross the road.
She squeezed through the crowd but was grabbed at and bumped by the girls, making her sunglasses fall lopsided over her face, tripping off of the curb and sending her book and picnic basket crashing to the ground, her food, which was thankfully wrapped, spread across the road. Hurriedly, she bent down, pushing her sunglasses back and attempting to collect all of her things as gasps, screams, and incoherent Italian babbling sounded behind her, not wanting to be in the way of the parade when it eventually made its way to her when a shadow blocked the sun from her eyes and a large, veiny hand held out her book.
“Are you alright?” she heard a deep, soft voice speak in clear English.
Paris tilted her head up and squinted, freezing for a moment as the condensation from her cold bottle of water trickled down her hand and onto the pavement. Suddenly the line of giddy girls made sense. It wasn’t a parade, it was Harry Styles. Quickly, Paris got to her feet, grabbing the red bound book from his grasp as she tucked hair behind her ear.
“I’m so sorry, I thought it was a parade. My sunglasses fell off my head and I couldn’t see and I tripped off the sidewalk, I’ll probably have to throw out my cookie,” Paris trailed until she heard Harry chuckled and put a warm hand on her shoulder which made her stop. She hadn’t realized until then that he was panting and a little sweaty, but his curls were still perfectly intact.
“No worries,” he reassured her, “Let me help.”
He bent down with her to collect her things as girls just stood back, giggling, and taking pictures. Harry did his best to entertain them, saying hello and responding quickly to things they shouted out like ‘how are you?’ and ‘I love you’ all while carefully placing her sweets and food back in her picnic basket.
When they had gotten the last soft pretzel in, Harry took hold of the basket and stood up, “I’ve got it,” he offered, giving her a nod that made her know that it was okay for her to follow him.
He waved goodbye to the girls that stood off to the side of the road and slowly walked down the middle of the street where, just yards away, that red mustang was idling with several men and a camera strapped to the back of it waited. He held a hand up with his finger waving to signal that he just needed a minute as he helped her cross the street.
“There’s a lot of food on this. Is it just you?” he asked.
Paris blushed, shoving her glasses back on top of her head, “Yeah. My eyes are bigger than my stomach.”
He chuckled again, stepping up on the curb, “You’re not from around here?”
She shook her head, “No, I’m from the states. Just needed to get away for a bit, so I took a solo trip. It’s my first time here.”
His eyebrows raised, pursing his lips in intrigue, “I took a solo trip once. Probably one of the best vacations I’ve ever been on.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to feel that way,” she bit her lip to hide her smile, looking down at her feet. Her butterflies were going berserk, trying to figure out if this was real, or not.
Harry smiled, looking down at her as they slowly walked down the sidewalk, side by side. She was quite beautiful, with soft skin and a bright smile, and her eyes reflected the light in a way that reminded him of stained glass. He nudged her a little, joking, “Don’t look down. That’s how you tripped in the first place.”
She let out a breathy laugh, looking up at him, “I think I’m just inherently clumsy.”
He grinned, keeping his eyes on her as they walked before he realized that he probably shouldn’t stare and looked straight ahead, asking, “So where are you headed with all this food?”
She nodded her head and pointed a little further ahead at the path that led into the park, “Just in there. Was going to find a tree to sit under for some shade and have some lunch.”
“Ah. Lunch and a view,” he noticed the sea waves crashing into the coast just below the cliffs, “Sounds wonderful,” he stopped as they reached the path, looking down at the basket with food, “Well, save me a pastry. In case I see you again,” he handed the basket over to her.
She giggled, taking it from him and heaving it into the crook of her arm, “Thanks. Sorry again. Have fun doing…..whatever it is you’re doing,” she motioned to the mustang.
He laughed, walking backward and waving, “I’ll try. Bye, it was nice meeting you!”
With a tight-lipped grin, she nodded, watched for a second longer, and turned to make her way down the path. But with the loud, echoing sound of his voice, she heard him yell, “Wait! What’s your name?”
She turned, laughing, and shouting, “Paris!”
“Paris,” she barely heard him repeat as his smile widened toothily and he shouted back, “See you later, Paris! Don’t forget! I want that pastry!” And with one last wave, he took off down the street, running as his puffy white top flowed and rippled behind him.”
A few girls ran up to her right after he left and asked her what he said, but there wasn’t much to tell. When they realized she didn’t have much information, they all stuck around for about an hour longer, waiting, in hopes that he’d come back. And as she ate her lunch, even she found herself looking around for any signs of him. After a while, she realized he probably wasn’t going to be back and attempted to read her book, but it was next to impossible to focus on any of the words after that.
The girls eventually left and Paris was one of the few people left in the area, leaning against the tree, picking at the strawberries beside her, book unread and open on her lap as she stared out at the ocean. She could hear a little dog barking in the distance, birds tweeting as they swirled in the air, the rustling of leaves as the ocean air blew through them, and the soft sounds of waves crashing against the shore. She had never been so relaxed before in her life.
She must have zoned out and been there for hours because by the time she came-to and something was trying to get her attention, it looked as though the sun would be starting to set shortly. Her name was being called, echoing somewhere behind her. She straightened up, hearing the ruffling of feet against the grass and twigs, turning, only to see Harry Styles making his way over in a hoodie, shades, and carrying a lump of fabric.
He smiled when they made eye contact, and as they approached, he held up the lump of blue and white fabric in his hands. “Blanket. Noticed you didn’t have one earlier and didn’t trust it to not be muddy.”
Paris smiled, standing up and moving out of the way so that he could lay the blanket out. And with a shake, he spread it out evenly on the first try.
“Was hoping you’d still be here,” Harry admitted, sitting down on one side of the blanket with a grunt, “I was afraid I wouldn’t make it in time.”
Paris blushed, reaching into the picnic basket and pulling out the now-cold pastry, “Couldn’t leave you hangin’.”
Harry’s eyes lit up, taking hold of the pastry and ripping a piece off, handing it to her before taking a bite. Moaning, he muttered, “These are my favorite pastries here. Still good, even if it’s been sitting out for hours.”
She smiled, staring at him in wonder. How was this happening? Why was this happening? She relaxed her shoulders, leaning back against the tree with her legs stretched in front of her, shoes off as they had been for hours now, looking down at both of their feet with the sea landscape before them.
“So, why are ***** you here?” Paris asked, turning to him, “I mean, clearly you’re not here on a solo vacation.”
He smiled, taking the last bite of his pastry and swallowing it down, “I’m shooting a music video.”
Paris nodded, trying to hold back a smile, and reaching for the spare bottle of water to offer him, “Makes sense. All the cameras, and the unnecessary running down the street in puffy white shirts.”
Harry chuckled, taking hold of the water, “Well, why are ***** you here? You said you needed to get away? What from?”
Paris shrugged, letting her head fall back on the tree and picking at the strawberries again, “It was just getting boring. I was living the same day on repeat for months, it seems. The same boring desk job, the same boring town, with the same boring people. I just needed to get out of there for a little before I went stir-crazy.”
Harry nodded, understandingly, “I’ve been on the go for so long that it’s almost impossible to stay still for too long. Sometimes it’s nice to sit and do nothing somewhere **** else. Somewhere that’s not home.”
Paris twisted her head in his direction to see he was sitting just like her, their shoulders touching. They didn’t say anything, but their eyes seemed to share the same understanding. It was so easy to be caught up in day-to-day life; doing what you’re told and switching to autopilot just to get through it. But it was times like these that made you sit back and just enjoy life for what it is and what it could be; beautiful.
Harry watched as a soft, closed smile stretched across Paris’ face and he felt his stomach start to do flips. This was new to him. He had never been so forward before. Sure, he’s gone back to places in hopes to get a girl’s number. But he’s never felt this inclined to stay and talk. Heck, they could sit there in silence, for all he cared. But something about her seemed to make his stress vanish.
He suddenly didn’t have to worry about waking up at the ass crack of dawn to continue shooting, he didn’t have to worry about the twelve-or-so people back at the rental who was probably waiting for him to get back or the dozens of emails he needed to respond to. He didn’t need to worry about the multiple contracts that still needed his revision and approval, and the legal battles he was in the middle of, and he didn’t have to worry about being seen by fans. Who cared? They weren’t important. This was. Sitting on a blanket, underneath a bug-infested tree, watching the sunset over the sea with a stranger.
They chatted for an hour about life and goals. Harry was a dreamer, and so was she. There were many things they wanted to do or accomplish, some much bigger than others. But, it seemed as though there was always something getting in the way. Paris wanted to get out of her small town and travel more. She couldn’t do it often; finances and lack of time off from work made it difficult, but if this trip taught her anything, it was that she needed to take time for herself.
Harry, on the other hand, wanted to do so much more with his time in the way of helping out any way he can. Wanting to volunteer to help out on trips to third-world countries and set up his own charities to help those less fortunate. Paris wasn’t exactly surprised by all of this, but still found it refreshing to hear his passion for it. It truly was something so heartwarming.
“How much longer are you here for, Paris?” he asked, digging into the container of strawberries that Paris had set between them.
Paris set the leafy bit of her strawberry on the container’s lid while she swallowed her food and muttered, “Three more days,” clearing her throat and turning her head to his she frowned, “Not nearly long enough.”
He nodded, solemnly, “It’s never long enough here. Funny, though. I leave in three days.”
“Yeah? What are you doing for the rest of your trip?”
“Well, I’ve got to finish shooting this music video, but I’ve got nothing planned tomorrow night. If you’re not busy, maybe I can treat you to dinner? As a, uh, thank you for saving me your pastry?”
Paris looked down at her feet, smiling shyly, before looking up, trying not to seem too enthusiastic as she nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear, “Yeah, sure. That’d be nice.”
He nodded, smiling himself, “Great. Do you, uh,” he cleared his throat, “have your phone on you?”
Paris perked up, feeling around her pockets and rummaging through the picnic basket before closing her eyes and sighing, “I left it in my room.”
He smirked, furrowing his eyebrows, “You’ve gone hours not realizing you didn’t have your phone?”
She shrugged, laughing, “I’ve been distracted by the sea.”
He chuckled, shaking his head and pulling his phone out of his pocket, glancing to see the dozens of missed texts and calls he had received since getting here. He groaned, mumbling under his breath as he scrolled through his apps until he reached his contacts, “I should probably get going soon. Do you know your number?” he asked, handing it over to her.
Paris took hold of his phone, the latest and greatest, not a scratch on it. And as she began to input her information into it, her mind raced. She was holding Harry Styles’ phone. She was holding his phone because he wanted her number. He wanted her number so that he could call or text her. He wanted to call or text her so that he could take her out to dinner tomorrow. Harry Styles was taking her on a date tomorrow. Was it a date? Or was it just a casual dinner? What was running through his mind right now? Did he like her? He must, why else would he take her out to dinner? Did he think she was cute? Would he try to kiss her tomorrow? Would she see him again after that?
She handed his phone back and he grinned, hesitating for a moment before asking, “Should we take a picture? Capture this moment? It’s golden hour in Italy. Seems fitting for the occasion.”
Paris grinned, nodding, “Yeah, sure.”
The two shuffled about on his blanket so that their back was towards the ocean, huddling in close. Harry pressed his shoulder to her back and bent his head down so close to hers that their cheeks were touching. She could smell his shampoo and musky cologne, she could feel the warmth from his body on hers. They smiled as he positioned the phone in front of them and double-tapped the camera button, taking two pictures.
“One more. A silly one,” he said.
She giggled, sticking her tongue out and scrunching her nose while Harry puffed up his cheeks and pursed his lips, clicking the button once more. He brought the phone down and turned to her, grinning.
“Thanks for letting me join you on this picnic,” he grinned.
She nodded, getting to her knees before standing up, Harry following suit, “Yeah, of course. Thanks for bringing the blanket.”
Harry chuckled, helping her pack her things back into the picnic basket while she folded the blanket nicely for him. He carried the basket while she hugged the blanket as they slowly strolled back towards the front of the park. The little dog was gone, now, and the only people in sight were an older couple on a park bench too far away to see clearly.
“I’m parked just over here,” Harry motioned to the left, “Can I give you a ride back?”
They stopped walking as they reached the entrance and Paris turned to him, shaking her head, “Oh, no, that’s alright. I can walk. I’m only two blocks that way,” she pointed to the right, grinning.
He nodded, not saying a word as they stood there for a moment. Finally, he held her basket up for her. She smiled, taking hold and swapping him with his blanket, “See you tomorrow?” he verified.
Paris let out a breathy laugh as she confirmed, “See you tomorrow.”
Harry smiled wider, outstretching an arm and giving her a tight, warm, side-hug before pulling away and walking backward, waving, “Bye, Paris.”
She grinned, waving back before she began her trek back to her Airbnb. She turned back to look only once to see Harry, who had been just sitting in his car for a couple of minutes, start up his car and drive off in the opposite direction. Paris twirled and giggled on her walk back, the smile never leaving her face.
When she finally got back to her lodgings, she dropped everything on the dining room table, racing to her room to find her phone, wanting to see if Harry had texted her at all. And, to her astonishment, she had one missed text from an unknown number, opening it to see one picture of her and Harry Styles smiling, and a second picture of them making goofy faces, with a text underneath that read ‘Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Love, H.’.
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