“Yes, Liam–––I grunt, frustrated. The girl from that night when you dragged me to the Funky Buddha…” The memory is returning full form to me, standing barefoot in the middle of the garden, but it’s just too much for me to manage.

“Noooo…” Liam says quietly.

“Yes.” I stay in silence for a second, squeezing my eyes and shaking my head ‘no.’

“It’s impossible, Harry…–––he retorts. Are you sure?” ‘Of course I’m sure, Liam!” My mind grumbles. Why is he always questioning me? Does he think I’m a useless arse?

“Yes, I am!–––I snap, annoyed. She just told me she went dancing the night we bumped into each other near King Street, and she just showed me how she danced!” I move my hand emphatically as if he were in front of me. “She was doing the pose of the freaking Venus Of Milo!” A sudden flash of Jeanne in black leather shorts and nude lace top makes me tremble completely.

“The Venus Of Milo?”

“The freaking statue, Liam!–––I exclaim, losing my temper. The same she did at the fucking Louvre! And she had that grimace, Liam, because when she dances she makes that grimace–––I whinge, throwing a hand to my forehead–––the grimace she does when she’s playful…” I grip my brow. God, I just want to cry so badly. “I always feel like dying when she grimaces but I had forgotten everything about that night until just know!” I don’t want to take it on Liam but he’s not cooperating, and I’m such an anxious wreck.

“Well, let me tell you it’s not the grimace I remember, Harry–––he claims jokingly after a moment–––but the way she was shaking that body…” I hear him chuckle lightly and clear my throat. “OK, out of place–––he states. My God, I just can’t believe it…” Neither do I, but it’s just so clear now.

“Liam, do you remember?”

“I remember I insisted a lot for you to come with me as I didn’t want to go on my own–––he giggles. We were in London with the X-Factor tour! Do you remember, Harry?” He practically shouts, all excited. Well, I remember now. Why couldn’t I check a schedule from 2011? I’m such an undisciplined dick. “We had just arrived from Sheffield the day before…–––he muses. We were at the bar and we noticed some sort of commotion because a girl was dancing over a table and we went to snoop around and you stared at her as an absolute fool!” Liam claims, amused. I clench my teeth. I certainly don’t need him making fun of me just now. And I remember that part too well. “Oh, this is too good! You made me come back the next day after the show to see if you were able to find her…”

“She was with someone as we saw her…–––I stammer–––we saw her kissing that guy when she went down of the table, but anyway…” I can’t believe I’m actually talking about Jeanne… Part of me is incapable of fully realising it, but that fact doesn’t prevent my soul from turning blue. I had seen her with another guy, and back then the image got stuck in my mind for months… Now it’s returning to me and I just want to keep it away.

“The guy she kissed?–––Liam asks as confused. Don’t you remember, Harry? He was at the bar talking to me five minutes earlier. He was from Germany…”

“From Germany?–––I blurt out, my heart bouncing inside my chest. Did he tell you he was with her?” It’s him, the German guy from ‘elsewhere’… Elsewhere was London.

“Harry, he didn’t know her more than we did…–––he mumbles cautiously, trying not to upset me. She just chose him randomly…” What? I shake my head. She didn’t tell me because she knows she met him the same day she met me, and that I was going to freak out as I’m doing right now… Of course she thought I’d never find out because she doesn’t know that I was there…

“I was standing by his side…”

“Tree palms and she would have chosen you…” Fuck.

“Do you realise what this means, Liam?” As I speak the coincidences crash all at once into my mind; arriving to live in London at the same time, bumping into each other on the street, seeing her that very night and being so fixated on her, becoming who I am; Jeanne watching the Olympics and writing Fan Fiction about me; me reading Fan Fiction randomly until I found hers, and completely falling for her writing; Louis stepping in and forcing me to meet her… And it is like a perfect circle… Everything led to the next one until we met again… I’m going insane.

“That your obsession for Jeanne is growing exponentially…”

“Liam, it’s her…” I repeat, impotence crawling into my heart.

“I know it is mad, Harry–––Liam says thoughtfully. You dreamt of her for quite a while…” It is true. I did, and I told him every time it happened. And it’s the same girl… “You went to the Funky Buddha for some time to look for her and I didn’t even need to insist until, I don’t know, you finally gave in…” I did, I finally did, but some force just brought her into my life…

“Do you remember the song she was dancing to?”

“OK, it was a long time ago but I guess it was…” He ventures, making a brief pause. Come on, Liam, just be your perfect self…. “‘Bizarre Love Triangle’!” I throw my head back, palming my face. Again! She didn’t want to tell me because she knows it means something… I bite my lower lip, my hand coming to rest on my waist, and glance towards the house. “Harry, are you OK?” Liam asks, concerned, as I don’t say another word.

“No, I’m not,” I state.

–.–.–

What did all that mean? My mind couldn’t reach it and my heart… My heart was barely able to catch up on everything. It was her. It was Jeanne. Jeanne was her, my unknown crush, the girl I watched for a few minutes and then disappeared from my life; the girl who got so stuck in my mind but then disappeared from my memory to become a simple idea. But I know some part of me held on to her, the part that stirred inside me when she did her little grimace for the first time, the part that left me breathless at the museum when Jeanne showed me the pose, the part that stroke me that night until I finally realised who she was. How was I to face her now? How could I return to her and just tell her something like that, as surreal as it was?

I was freezing but I couldn’t come back inside. I needed more time to make up my mind, to try to put my ideas in order. I went to sit on the swing of the mulberry tree. The memories from the morning when I returned from England flooded my mind, making me shiver out of control. We had a story together, Jeanne and me, and then that episode of my life that just belonged to me was suddenly becoming part of that story too… For a few minutes I alternated gloomy glances towards the house and stares into space, completely oblivious of time, until I saw her coming out of the art studio, obviously searching for me. The light setting from the garden was on, so she quickly spotted me and started to walk on my direction. I straightened up a bit. It was the moment of truth. What was I going to do?

“Mouth, are you OK?” She asked in a caring tone as she approached me, and for some reason it felt as seeing her for the first time. God, she was just…

“I’m sorry I stormed out–––I muttered, avoiding her confused gaze. I remembered one thing I got worried about…”

“Oh,” Jeanne just said. She was that impossibly discreet. I knew she would never ask what happened, and somehow I adored it. “Are you OK now?” She asked placing a hand on my shoulder. I looked up at her… She had that loving gaze I knew so well and particularly remembered from the pub in Paris. I reached out for her waist and brought her to sit modestly on my lap.

“I’m OK now that you are here with me…–––I mumbled, trying not to sound too needy, and caressed her chin with my finger. Just kiss me.”

–.–.–

I almost didn’t sleep that night. I just kept staring at Jeanne, sleeping placidly by my side, as I tried to caress her lightly enough not to disturb her, my head full of questions. I recalled all so well now I couldn’t help but tremble from time to time. Jeanne dancing over a table, shaking her hips, flicking her hair around, and the lights making her appear more redhead than she is. And soon as I saw her from the distance I felt so drawn to her I approached her amongst the anonymous people just to stare at her while the song lasted. I got to see her face so clearly, that face I know by heart now… Her eyes were closed, and I really thought I could remember that grimace and those soft features forever, but I just didn’t. Once I had her right in front of me again at the bookstore I didn’t get to recognise her. I kissed that girl unknowingly as I just did in so many dreams I had and I wasn’t aware of… I returned to that freaking club to search for her in the crowd for so long, and never got to see her again, but she was so near anyway, so near… She had been so near all these years, and at the same time, so far away.

I wasn’t able to remember King Street though, but I knew. As I told her in Rue Mouffetard, I just knew it that day. I knew she would be all this since DreamingOfYou first mentioned the incident. For some reason the part of me that hung on to her managed to let me know… The way my heart rushed when Zayn confirmed it to me, but even before… And the void and guilt for letting her go I felt afterwards… Everything had a meaning. I had run into her twice on the same day as impossible as it might seem, but it’s just what happened, even if I didn’t recognise her from the street at the club, probably because of her own impact on me that second time. I remembered Liam telling me he never portrayed me as a potential romantic when we met because I seemed so comfortable flirting with everyone. But he knew. He got to see this side of me and realised I had my heart too. And because he’s so proper, feature he definitely shares with Jeanne, he never told the boys about my dreams. They would have teased me to my deathbed. I was pretty sure now he would tell them the breaking news before I could have the chance to, but he was the only one mentioning the issue on his messages. By then things were cold between me and Louis, and it is fairly possible than the others were thinking it was better to keep it quiet.

I remained deranged for the rest of the week, absentminded, just hypnotised by Jeanne. But I couldn’t tell her though, and I knew there were so many things about me she was keeping to herself too. Was that she was in love with me one of those things? I knew she noticed something was going on with me, but she just kept acting as if nothing was happening, neither with me, nor the fact our time together was coming to an end. Perhaps that was the reason she was extra pleasing during those days, walking around naked most of the time, coming to lay on top of me every time I was resting, allowing me to make love to her all around the house. She seemed to forget about the photos we were going to develop. I felt particularly sorry because of that one I forced her to take with me, but maybe it was better this way. I knew she wouldn’t return to ‘La biguine’ in a while as she had to work on her thesis, but she would eventually, and I would have my copy.

I really struggled not to become obsessed, but it was a hard task with the latest events looping unstoppably inside my head. I couldn’t deny that my feelings for Jeanne were growing stronger by the second, and it wasn’t just because of the facts Pat remarked about us anymore. By that time I had quite assumed we seemed very different on the surface but there were deeper things we had in common, even if no one else could see them. There was that force pulling me towards Jeanne… Even in that mad state I didn’t want to be anywhere else as I was in that mad state for her.

The previous morning to our return to Paris I couldn’t help but contemplate Jeanne while bathing on the tin tub in the garden. Her hair was down and wild, and as it was wet, with the sunlight falling over her it turned into an unseen shade of dark reddish brown. She was mesmerising. I couldn’t take my eyes away from her but she didn’t notice me, as I kept pretending to be reading ‘Women’ quite successfully. Pat was right about her. There was something in her movements. She had that particular grace; it was something coming from within, something magic, because it worked on me as a spell… Who was she? Who was that creature that had completely captured my mind? Did I know the answer? All I knew was that I had dreamt of her even when I didn’t know who she was, and that I wanted more of her and my inner being was screaming that her feelings were the same as mine, in spite of everyone and every doubt.

–.–.–

Notes

The chapter of the grimace.
The chapter of the Venus of Milo.

I've been building this for so long I can't believe it is out. But don't get fooled. This is not an answer, but a new question. You know Jeanne doesn't feel the same about fate than Harry. Is this the reason he is keeping it to himself? Or do you think it could be something more?

Don't exhale just yet. You don't know what's coming ;)

Thank you for sharing your time with this story. Your honest support makes me work harder. Love you all.

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