Dreaming Of You // If I'm Still Dreaming

I changed my entire plans. I let my mum and Gemma down. I made Liam and Zayn fly across Europe to get me to Paris before heading for England. Touring the world is the greatest experience, and to return home to your loved ones afterwards is a unique feeling, but I wasn’t going home myself. I was about to carry on with my personal quest, one particular aspect you can’t face from the safety of your home. From young age my mother had tried to encourage me to take risks and be confident about my own decisions, and even if she was disappointed at me I trusted her to realise this was just a part of that same drive.

But leaving Portugal also meant leaving Louis behind, a more gutted Louis than I had ever seen before. He was smiling when we left to the airport but by the look in his eyes I knew he was still broken. Early in the morning he found out that the Doncaster Rovers’ takeover he worked so much for had failed. I didn’t really understand why he was so eager to jump into the football business in the first place, but it was not my call to doubt him, and he was just crushed. I hadn’t heard El and Louis shout at each other that way before. Liam told me she was mad because, as a result of the Doncaster thing, Larry’s shippers had taken Twitter over another time. For a moment I felt tempted to come clean about Jeanne for them to stop, but I knew it was useless. They believe my relationships are a stunt every single time.

By the time Pat and I arrived to Orly all arrangements to travel to Sainte-Mesme the next day were already made. It was the only way to make sure she’d let me pay for anything. As we picked a taxi to 11, Rue Cujas, my uneasiness began to fade away. It had been sad leaving Louis in that critical state and mad with Eleanor, but I was just so happy to see Jeanne I knew he’d forgive my obliviousness.

The streets of Paris were deserted and I had no reasons to believe I had been spotted at the airport. Once I stepped a foot out of the taxi I glanced up at Jeanne’s building, my heart racing inside my chest in expectation. The driver and Pat helped me to carry my stuff to the doorway, but from there I was on my own. Pat was keeping my guitar until the next day when he'd come to pick us up to the Gare de Montparnasse to take our train. He kissed and patted my cheek, returning to the taxi. I slipped the spare key in the lock and deeply breathed in, opening the gate. I had been watching that key so much lately I thought I was going to worn it out.

I climbed upstairs with certain ambivalence. There was a possibility for Jeanne not to be home yet. That was the reason she gave me the spare key in the first place. Who would willingly go to the National Day’s parade? She was unbelievable. And maybe she’d join her friends for lunch too. I was dying to hold her but to be faithful, the idea of waiting on her didn’t upset me. Part of me was fond of being alone at her flat, I didn’t really know why… The second time I knocked and received no answer I realised it was the case. She wasn’t there. I slowly opened the door and went inside, to be engulfed by the smell of spices and Jeanne. That was the scent of her attic but I hadn’t realised before.

I glanced around to the place, submerged on a shivering dim light. There were fresh daisies over the table. I walked to them after I dropped my bags to the floor. Jeanne loved having flowers in the house, but somehow I missed the sunflowers. They must have withered in my absence. I found a little note next to the vase in Jeanne’s handwriting. I smiled.

If you are reading this it’s because I’m late. Make yourself at home, Jeanne.

A chill ran down my spine. How could those few words give me so many feelings? I slightly shook my head and shoved the piece of paper into my wallet. It took me a great effort to leave the spare keys over the table, but I finally did it. I removed my boots and went around for a while looking on everything, but I didn’t want for her to find me in the task so I discreetly left things as they were and decided to wait for her in bed. I must have been sleepier than I realised because as soon as I opened Bukowski’s book Zayn had lent me I fell fast asleep. I woke up to some weight on my back.

“Hey, there,” Jeanne whispered in my ear. I couldn’t help but beam, my eyes still shut, throwing my hand back to grab her.

“Hey…” I muttered as I slipped around to face her, cupping her jaw. God, it was just so good to see her.

“How was your flight?”

“Shut up,” I said with a grin and approached her mouth to kiss her. I felt like melting as her body relaxed on mine. My hands ran around her waist to bring her closer, and I sucked on her tongue and lips yearningly. I had been missing her like mad, but this time there was no rush, having two whole weeks ahead of us.

That night I wanted to go to the river to see the fireworks but I knew it would be too risky with all the tourists and the media. Being spotted again in Paris would automatically fuel the latest rumours, so I had to give up another time. Jeanne told me it wasn’t quite the same, but we could watch them from the distance on her little terrace with a bottle of wine and two glasses, so that was what we did. I held her tightly from behind with my mind on that scene from ‘Bizarre Love Triangle’ where Laila and Harry do the same. I know she remembered it too. She stated once she had a very good memory, but either of us mentioned it. We just stood there and toasted to the French Republic. There was something about being with her like that, which made all my worries from previous weeks go away, and I soon forgot about the teasing, the guys on Twitter, and everything.

When we went down the next morning after leaving the daisies to Mme. Poulbot, we found Pat already waiting for us outside of her building. I introduced him to Jeanne and he gentlemanly carried her handbag to the taxi. They kept chatting the entire ride to the railway station and it was just all right. He was going to be out of the picture soon so she and I could be on our own. We managed to make it to the train discreetly and Pat sat a few seats away. It had been a while since I wasn’t on a train. As we noticed it was practically empty we got to relax a little. Well, I relaxed more than a little and slipped closer to Jeanne until she rested her legs on my lap. She was reading her book with her back against the window and her reading glasses as I tried needlessly to catch her attention for more than a second, running my fingers around her skin and playing with the hem of her green dress. She just glanced mischievously from time to time but it was impossible for me to take my eyes off of her.

We got off the train on an isolated platform in front of a forest. There was a car park behind the railway station and I watched Jeanne walk to a blue, old and rusty Citroën 2CV. I chuckled. She was amazing. Pat giggled too. Apparently we still needed to do a little driving because her house was on a hill between two small towns. Jeanne offered me to drive. Pat flashed me a playful lop-sided glance and shook his head slightly as we approached the car. Yeah, my geisha secretly knew how to behave to make me feel like a man.

“I have never driven a French car before…” I mumbled as I took seat, placing my hands on the steering wheel. Pat let out a muffled snicker. Was he comparing Jeanne to a car? God, he was so inappropriate. Luckily she didn’t seem to care or perhaps, knowing her, she even enjoyed it. She was well aware of the fact she flustered everyone around.

To Jeanne’s indications we quickly arrived to a road in the middle of the forest. Amongst trees and bushes I was able to spy on random houses, most of them sheltered from public view with rock walls. On our way to Jeanne’s house we had to stop at Maurice’s, her father’s best friend, to meet him and install Pat. The man in his fifties gave me a great impression. There was another French speaking flawless English. He got everything set to lodge Paul and invited us to lunch. Jeanne and him seemed to care a lot about each other. She told me he was as an uncle to her, as every one of her parents’ friends. As we shared a nice meal ‘al fresco’ at his lovely house my anxious anticipation for our arrival to ‘La biguine’ began to increase, so I just started to rush Jeanne. Why was I so eager to know her house?

Soon later I finally parked the 2CV next to a kerb. Jeanne took her handbag and walked to a green iron fence. She passed the entrance, leaving the fence open for me to follow her to what I supposed was some sort of front garden. My heart was pounding furiously against my ribcage as I stepped in, glancing around. I had been in many gardens in my life, but none of them could remotely be compared to this. It was not tidy as an average French garden, but far more savage than an English one, with a magnificent willow as a main feature, flowery bushes, lavender and fruit trees everywhere. On the distance, a little higher on the slight slope I could see a stone two-storey house with a crystal front and slate pitched roof, and beyond the house, on the top of the hill, lay the forest.

“Can you fall in love with a house?” I mumbled to Jeanne, almost choking at my own words.

“Yes, you can,” Jeanne grinned, turning away.

She let her stuff on the ground and began to call a name as I glimpsed around, still amazed. The whole place had that boho, purposely decadent vibe, from the outdoor furniture to the candle holders, garlands, dreamcatchers, and wind chimes hanging from the trees, filling the air with buzzy, tinkling sounds over the mild whisper of the leaves. I noticed Jeanne was returning to my side with a tabby cat between her arms. There was the cat she was missing from the beginning, and he suited her perfectly. I smiled and walked to them, leaving my bags where they had fallen. By his face I knew it was a male. She told me it was her father’s cat and they called him Mamadou, although his pet name was Doudou. I stroked his chin and greeted him, but I guess he didn’t understand English because he jumped from Jeanne’s arms and left. We giggled and I grabbed our belongings to make it to the house. I let her walk away ahead of me and looked at her with her green floaty dress and her coppery hair. She was the main feature of that garden.

–.–.–

Notes

Been thinking of this chapter for so long it's amazing to see it published :) It's dedicated to my dear friend @afriendofjenny because great minds think alike ;) Where are you, baby?

This week we welcome a lot of new friends! I'm so excited to have you here with us, guys, @TheTroubledNeophyte and @ohhboybands. And we welcome back @Hazelsmyname29! Hey, babe <3

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