Roses and Thorns
Merci. (38th Chapter)
… The Next Day (Noon Timing)…
........................
Janelle's POV:
........................
I roam from street to the other, freeing my mind from the red and pink chains; that once bounded me to Zayn. Paris is such a fascinating city, and each street has its own reflection. I don’t know where I’m walking, and I care less if I was lost. Even though I am sure I could never be lost, considering that I am well taught in French language, and because the taxis are never vanishing off the streets.
All what I want right now, is to feed myself a huge buffet of freedom. I’m like any jailed prisoner, but my story isn’t very similar at the same time. You see, I did a lot of thinking last night, and I concluded that I was the only one responsible for prisoning myself. I closed the door on my heart, after it chose Zayn. But now since he’s not mine, and my heart has decided to live internally alone; I released my aging heart out. I was the jail officer, and the guilty person at the same time.
My eyes spot a wave of curly hair, as he enters a shop. I find my feet following his footsteps, as I read in French 'Bakery'. I follow the familiar male inside, while my eyes scan where his position is. I look to the left, noticing him standing with his elbows leaning on the glass counter. “Harry?” He turns around, as he scans me with a smile (http://www.polyvore.com/cold_flames/set?id=117993486&lid=3453986).
He tells the bakery worker to wait a second, as he walks to me. He doesn’t give a second to think, while he engulfs me in a friendly hug. I don’t want to drop the hug, and he doesn’t drop it either. For somehow he knows that I need this hug, as he brings me tighter to his chest. “(He whispers) Are you feeling any better, love?”
At his words, I break free from his arms, and force a smile; but I fail at trying so hard. “I’ll take that as a no… (He looks at me in worry) Are you ill?” I sigh, and shrug my shoulders. “(I hesitate my question) Harry could I ask you something personal?” He nods slowly, as we walk back to where he was standing previously. “Anything.” He replies verbally now, emphasising I should ask faster.
“Have you ever felt that you were attached to a certain person, and you finally realised that you could never be with her/him?” He gives me a warm smile, and breathes.“How about I answer your question, only if you join me for some cake and tea? I’m testing different cake flavors, since Zayn wants me to personally supervise the wedding cake.” I feel something pinching my chest, once I hear Zayn’s name.
“On one condition, though.” He nods, as I go on: “Let’s not mention the entire wedding for once?” He chuckles, as we walk into the large bakery to take a seat on one of the tables. Once we are seated, a tray with five plates is placed on the table.“Ce sont les premiers choix. Une fois que vous avez terminé, dites-nous s'il vous plaît à envoyer dans le prochain plateau.” Harry nods at the worker, and surprises me personally by understanding. “Merci.” He thanks the employee, and I lift my eye brow at him. “What?” He shrugs, releasing a tiny giggle.
“I didn’t know you knew French.” He shrugs as he takes the first plate off of the tray, placing it between him and I. “I learned French back in high school. (He smirks while handing me a fork) You should spend more time with me to learn more about me, missy.” I laugh a little, as we both dig our forks in the cake slice.
“Is it good? Its butterscotch.” He asks, while looking at me. I give it a little thought, rolling the chunks in my mouth to absorb the flavor. “Its okay, but I don’t want to judge from the first slice. (I find myself smiling) Bring in the next piece, baker boy.” He chuckles as he slides in a different cake plate between us. This is what I need, sugar and a friendly company…
........................
Janelle's POV:
........................
I roam from street to the other, freeing my mind from the red and pink chains; that once bounded me to Zayn. Paris is such a fascinating city, and each street has its own reflection. I don’t know where I’m walking, and I care less if I was lost. Even though I am sure I could never be lost, considering that I am well taught in French language, and because the taxis are never vanishing off the streets.
All what I want right now, is to feed myself a huge buffet of freedom. I’m like any jailed prisoner, but my story isn’t very similar at the same time. You see, I did a lot of thinking last night, and I concluded that I was the only one responsible for prisoning myself. I closed the door on my heart, after it chose Zayn. But now since he’s not mine, and my heart has decided to live internally alone; I released my aging heart out. I was the jail officer, and the guilty person at the same time.
My eyes spot a wave of curly hair, as he enters a shop. I find my feet following his footsteps, as I read in French 'Bakery'. I follow the familiar male inside, while my eyes scan where his position is. I look to the left, noticing him standing with his elbows leaning on the glass counter. “Harry?” He turns around, as he scans me with a smile (http://www.polyvore.com/cold_flames/set?id=117993486&lid=3453986).
He tells the bakery worker to wait a second, as he walks to me. He doesn’t give a second to think, while he engulfs me in a friendly hug. I don’t want to drop the hug, and he doesn’t drop it either. For somehow he knows that I need this hug, as he brings me tighter to his chest. “(He whispers) Are you feeling any better, love?”
At his words, I break free from his arms, and force a smile; but I fail at trying so hard. “I’ll take that as a no… (He looks at me in worry) Are you ill?” I sigh, and shrug my shoulders. “(I hesitate my question) Harry could I ask you something personal?” He nods slowly, as we walk back to where he was standing previously. “Anything.” He replies verbally now, emphasising I should ask faster.
“Have you ever felt that you were attached to a certain person, and you finally realised that you could never be with her/him?” He gives me a warm smile, and breathes.“How about I answer your question, only if you join me for some cake and tea? I’m testing different cake flavors, since Zayn wants me to personally supervise the wedding cake.” I feel something pinching my chest, once I hear Zayn’s name.
“On one condition, though.” He nods, as I go on: “Let’s not mention the entire wedding for once?” He chuckles, as we walk into the large bakery to take a seat on one of the tables. Once we are seated, a tray with five plates is placed on the table.“Ce sont les premiers choix. Une fois que vous avez terminé, dites-nous s'il vous plaît à envoyer dans le prochain plateau.” Harry nods at the worker, and surprises me personally by understanding. “Merci.” He thanks the employee, and I lift my eye brow at him. “What?” He shrugs, releasing a tiny giggle.
“I didn’t know you knew French.” He shrugs as he takes the first plate off of the tray, placing it between him and I. “I learned French back in high school. (He smirks while handing me a fork) You should spend more time with me to learn more about me, missy.” I laugh a little, as we both dig our forks in the cake slice.
“Is it good? Its butterscotch.” He asks, while looking at me. I give it a little thought, rolling the chunks in my mouth to absorb the flavor. “Its okay, but I don’t want to judge from the first slice. (I find myself smiling) Bring in the next piece, baker boy.” He chuckles as he slides in a different cake plate between us. This is what I need, sugar and a friendly company…
Notes
1 more, just:
KEEP READING DARLINGS <3 :D xx
*Please Don't Forget to: RATE &SUBSCRIBE*
*Feel Free to COMMENT about your questions and your thoughts whenever you want <3*
the funny part is that my name is Serenity
In chapter 44
11/22/14