The next morning we're boarding the plane to France. I can barely see straight I'm so tired and subsequently sleep for the entire flight. I find that we've arrived in Paris in no time and although all the other girls talk about the gruelling trip, all I remember are sweet dreams of green eyes and brown curls.

We settle into our hotel rooms soundly enough and Tanya, Kiana and I find a space that sleeps three, perfect for our combination. I wonder if it will be easy to get them out of the room while we're here- I wouldn't want Harry showing up unannounced just to be greeted by the two of them as well as myself.

Once we've unpacked and I've taken yet another nap, a date card is delivered to our doorstep.

"Charlotte, lets get to know each other better." The card reads. I can't believe it. I've been picked for the one-on-one date. Every girl congratulates me and claps as I'm handed the card, but I don't miss the jealous stares aimed in my direction. I can't blame them-

I was given two dates last week, as well as a group date rose. Now I've been given the first one-on-one in Paris. I'm not faring well in the women's eyes, but I don't know what else I can do at this point. Harry needs to calm down on his end- I've already made every excuse imaginable for him.

I take the card with a grain of salt, but can't help the smile on my face. Spending the day alone with Harry in Paris doesn't sound too bad at all, even if we do have to be in front of the cameras the entire time. I've found that Harry and I can still find a way to do what we want even if we are being filmed.

I walk away from the living room, where most of the girls are assembled now, and head off to my bathroom to get ready. I apply some make-up and select a short, red, flowy dress adorned with small white polkadots from my suitcase. The straps are thin, but two extra pieces of sleeve come down to rest on either side of my shoulders. It's one of the few dresses I've been able to find that doesn't reach down past my knees without being adjusted.

I slip on a pair of white converse and curl my hair before heading back out. The girls eye me enviously as I greet a producer by the front door, who leads me out of the apartment for my date.

I wonder what we'll be doing and if Harry and I will get another chance to be alone. I doubt it- there are no other girls with us to distract the cameras, but I feel as if exploring the city with Harry might be enjoyable whether cameras are with us or not.

For one, I no longer have to act like I enjoy his presence. Last week, when I hated Harry, it was hard to even look at him. The week before, I didn't really know him. Now, I'm acquainted well enough with him to enjoy his company without having to fake it, although the romance bits still may be a little tough to pull off.

I like when he kisses me and I certainly like when he does other things to me, but I'm just not good with relationships. Never have been, never will be. I'd rather have a friendship with benefits on the side rather than have to be committed to an entire romantic relationship. However, I know that's not a possibility while I'm on this show. So, although the necessity has significantly lessened, I will still have to put on an act more or less while I'm around Harry. My mind drifts back to the other night when he promised never to lie to me. I want to be able to say the same thing, but I know that's just not realistic. I push the thought out of my mind.

I'm escorted around the block by the producer and wait in front of a large building with revolving doors and a plush interior I can just glimpse through the windows. I can't help but admire the detailed architecture that seems to cover every building down the street, a welcome change from the harsh modern landscape I've become accustomed to in New York and LA.

I wait for another 5 minutes, a producer standing wordlessly next to me. A quick glance in their direction shows me they're consumed by their phone and can't be bothered in the least by my presence. I continue to marvel at the buildings surrounding me before I feel two large hands on my shoulders.

I've become so accustomed to the action, I know exactly who it is.

I turn around and engulf Harry in a tight hug, aware now that there are three cameras directed towards me.

"It's so good to see you!" I exclaim in delight as Harry lifts me slightly from the ground and spins me.

"It's good to see you, too, lovely." Harry admits with a small blush. I smile in appreciation at the endearment and he takes my hand in his.

"Well, where are we off to today?" I ask, eagerly glancing around. I forgot how much I loved this city.

"Oh, today we're going to be proper tourists, love." Harry informs me, a large grin on his face.

"Did 'ya bring your map and backpack?" I ask him, prompting a low chuckle.

"No, I didn't, unfortunately." He confesses, before beginning to walk off and leading me away from the extravagant building he'd emerged from. We stroll side by side for a good half hour and it seems that every other second I'm pointing out some unique feature adorning an apartment building, or a statue I can see off in the distance.

"Very curious thing, aren't you?" Harry asks, not having let go of my hand since we left his hotel.

"Oh, always have been, always will be. You better get used to it." I tease, smiling while sticking my tongue between my teeth.

"Already am." Harry responds, squeezing my hand briefly, and we continue on our way.

***

"Ice cream?" Harry asks, turning to me briefly as we come upon a small stall stationed on the side of the road a few minutes later.

"Of course." I answer keenly. Harry chuckles yet again and we approach a stout man standing behind a small freezer containing an array of different flavours.

"Reckon he speaks English?" Harry asks with a sideways glance as the man waits for our order.

"Bonjour!" He greets us cheerily and Harry's face falls.

"Don't know any French?" I question with a giggle.

"I said we'd be proper tourists." Harry responds with a nervous peek in my direction.

"What flavour would you like?" I ask quickly.

"Well, what's the least complicated flavour?"

"Vanilla, I guess." I answer, confused by Harry's question.

"Then I want vanilla. How do we tell him?" Harry asks. I turn away from him, choosing not to answer his question, instead addressing the man in front of us.

"Est-ce que nous pouvons avoir deux cônes de la vanille crème de glace, s'il vous plaît?" I force out the best accent I can, asking for two cones of vanilla ice cream in my broken French. I have to admit I'm a little rusty, but I wait patiently and hope the man can understand what I'm trying to say.

The moustachioed man nods kindly and begins working while Harry gawks at me, jaw practically on the floor.

"Where the hell did that come from?!" Harry exclaims, wide eyed, the hint of a smile threatening to break through his surprised expression.

"I took French in school!" I explain. He stands still, shocked. "What!? French is a common language, Harry." I laugh.

"Super genius." He grumbles and I remember the first week I met him, where he accused me of being just that.

"Oh, shut up." I tease Harry, playfully shoving him away from me. I relish in the contact but find it's short lived. Instead of backing away, Harry grabs the arm that had begun to push him and pulls me into a warm embrace, so my back is pressed to his front while his arms wrap around my stomach and his chin rests atop my head.

"My super genius, then. Sound better?" He asks and I can feel the vibrations of his laughter emanating through me. I want to melt at how cute he's being, but remind myself that he's acting over the top right now- there are a million cameras on us. He wouldn't behave this way in real life and neither would I.

"Much better." I respond cheerfully. We remain in this position for a second, but I'm forced to break free as the vendor holds up the ice cream cones intended for Harry and I. I take them both in my hands as Harry pays the required amount.

I take one lick of my cone, before staring at the two in front of me. I find that the one I haven't licked and claimed as my own is larger. As Harry turns back towards me, I quickly take a bite from his, evening out the playing field, before handing it back to him.

"What's that for?" He asks. He doesn't seem offended or grossed out- just confused.

"Yours was bigger than mine." I tell him with a sheepish grin and a shrug. He laughs, astonished by my childish behaviour, but takes the cone from me nonetheless.

We continue to walk down the sidewalk and he captures my hand in his once again. I find that I'm having a really, well, good time. A better experience than I've had on any of my dates so far, and certainly one of the best I've had with Harry. We've never been so innocent and playful around each other. Sure, when I visited his hotel room we joked around, but there was always a tiny sexual undercurrent beneath every conversation, not to mention the influence of alcohol. Now, we're just two normal people walking down the street hand in hand, nothing else but the other person on our minds. I'm not used to this, not at all, and I can't help the slight twinge of uncomfortableness that begins to present itself. I don't know exactly how to act in situations like these, but I do know I have to suck it up for the cameras. Being romantic with someone is a skill I was never blessed with.

Another 15 minutes pass. Once I'm done pointing out the different kinds of shingles topping each roof we pass to Harry, I focus back ahead of myself. In the distance, I see exactly what we're going to be doing.

"Harry, now we wouldn't be heading for that large tower over there, would we?" I ask him sarcastically, turning while taking a large lick of my ice cream.

"I'm not sure what you mean?" Harry responds with a cheeky grin, looking away and pretending to search the horizon, bringing a hand to his forehead as if shielding his eyes from the sun.

"That big, pointy one over there. I can't remember the name... Eiffel, is it?" I question further, trying to hide the smile threatening to take over my face.

"Eiffel Tower?! Never heard of it." Harry continues to play dumb and I break down in a loud laugh, pulling his arm with my own to steady myself.

"Harry!"

"I did say we were going to be proper tourists, didn't I? What's more touristy than the Eiffel Tower?!" He asks, seeming to be... delighted. Truly happy. I've barely ever seen him like this. Maybe I caught a glimpse here or there when I visited his hotel room, but this side of him has never been on full display in this manner before. It can't be because of me, though. It must be the fact that we're in France, or maybe his ice cream is really good.

"Yes, you did." I find the words to respond after marvelling at the dazzling smile he wears, the one where his dimples pop and his eyes crinkle in a way that's hard to describe.

"Then on we go, towards the big, pointy tower." Harry declares, gesturing forward with his ice cream. He turns to stare straight ahead once more, but I find I'm unable to look away when greeted with his side profile; an equally beautiful sight. I may be uncomfortable with romance, but I know how to appreciate a good looking man.

We walk for a solid minute and I'm content to gaze up at him and watch as his face makes different little expressions while he babbles on about something having to do with pesky tourists.

"Why're 'ya staring at me?" Harry eventually inquires with a small chuckle, now turning down to face me. I'm made aware once again of the glaring height difference between the two of us.

I can't stop myself and reach up as far as I can on my tippy toes to deliver a swift peck to his lips.

"No reason." I tell him sheepishly, embarrassed by my sickeningly sweet action. Sure, I wanted to kiss him, but I also know the cameras kill for the action I just executed. I attempt to convince myself that I only reached up to kiss him because of the cameras, but I know, deep down, that isn't true.

Harry smiles and stares ahead again, his cheeks slightly rosy now. I enjoy my ability to make Harry blush so easily. I have a feeling usually he's the one to make others blush and suspect that very rarely does he get compliments in the same manner in which I deliver them. Sure, telling someone they look hot is nice and I'm sure he hears it all the time, but my sentiments are much different- a lot more personal, specific. I doubt he's experienced it much before judging by how readily he seems to be embarrassed by my affections.

A while longer and we reach the Eiffel Tower. I marvel up at the structure as we come to stand beneath the framework and search for the line we'll be forced to stand in. Instead, however, Harry escorts me directly through a small gate towards the side of the entrance without so much as a second glance towards the queue.

I laugh as we step through, attempting to mask the sound with my hand, my ice cream now finished.

"What's so funny?" Harry asks.

"Never skipped a line before." I admit honestly. Harry stares down at me oddly.

"Never?" He questions incredulously.

"No, I stay slotted in with normal people most of the time." I giggle, although my expression falls just a bit. I'm reminded of my depressingly broke life back in New York. Harry doesn't push any farther on the subject.

We skip the queue for the elevators yet again and are escorted to the very top of the tower within 5 minutes. I see that it's been closed off just for us and I feel a little disconcerted- I can't help feeling bad when I know how many people are waiting down on the first floor, disappointed that they can't get a once in a lifetime view due to a dumb TV show. However, I keep quiet and don't make my grievances known.

Once we reach the top of the tower, Harry guides me outside to the edge of a barrier where we both come to stand, looking out over Paris. When I was a kid I never actually got the chance to come to the top. I never thought i'd be back again, but here I am.

"It's stunning." I remark, letting my elbows rest against the bar meant to keep me from falling over.

"Yeah, it is." Harry responds. He inches closer to me and throws an arm around my waist, pulling me to his hip. I like being connected to him in such a way, but it takes effort not to cringe at how affectionate and sweet the gesture is.

What is wrong with me? Any other girl on the show would be swooning at Harry pulling them in closer, but I'm only left uncomfortable. Relieved, for some reason, but a little uncomfortable nonetheless. I'm not even put off by the physical action of him touching me- I love that. It's the intent and purpose behind his movement that makes me wary.

I hate myself sometimes.

We continue to stand, staring out at the cityscape.

"Oh, it's just so cool that we're here!" I can't help but carry on my earlier sentiments.

"What d'ya mean?" Harry asks, turning to face me instead of the view before us.

"We're standing on a piece of history. This has been around for, what, 130 years? And now we're standing right on it! Right on top!" I tell Harry enthusiastically, wide eyes and all, letting a true piece of myself shine through. I've always been a bit of a history buff- I love reading and writing and listening and watching really anything about past events. I learned to hide the interest well, though. I wasn't regarded with a lot of respect in high school when people discovered I possessed two hanging model spitfire planes from WWII and a map of Pangea on my wall.

"Yes! Right on top of it!" Harry joins in my exclamation and I appreciate that he's not making fun of me. I know for a fact that any other guy I've talked to would. "D'ya like history then?" Harry asks and I debate between telling him the truth or lying again. I could shrug it off as a casual interest or indulge him in a real aspect of my personality. I recall Harry's words- he promised he would never lie to me...

"I absolutely love it! All kinds! Architecture, war, art, writing, all that kind of stuff. It's just so.. just so..." I trail off, beginning to lose my confidence. I decided to tell the truth and now I wait with bated breath for a snide remark, something I'm used to by now. However, it doesn't come.

"So what?" Harry urges me on and my face lights up once more.

"So interesting! To think about what every other single person in the world was doing before we had all this kind of stuff. It's hard to explain." I concede, creasing my brow as I try to figure out a way to convey my enthusiasm.

"Enlighten me." Harry implores. I look up into his eyes searchingly, and find no boredom within them whatsoever. I proceed.

"Well, for example, when we were walking down the street today. Exactly 100 years ago soldiers from World War I were walking in the exact same places as us! Every building we pass someone from 300 years ago was using their own hands to make and carve. Just think about people living, and walking, and eating in the same places as us, just at different times! Thousands of different moments have taken in place in any one spot." I ramble on. My smile growing wider with every syllable. I remember why I've come to like history so much in the first place.

Harry is staring at me in awe when I finish, eyes boring into mine with wonder.

"I've... I've never heard someone talk so highly of history." Harry confesses. He doesn't sound as if he's making fun of me. In fact, he sounds more reverent than anything.

"It's just so cool!" I exclaim, unable to contain myself. No one's ever humoured me for this long. Harry pauses for a moment, seeming to ponder something unbeknownst to me.

"It is cool..." Harry agrees with a smile, causing me to beam up at him. I feel like a child, getting so visibly excited over this topic, but for some reason I don't feel embarrassed to act as myself around Harry- not in the way I used to. I fear I may be in more danger than I originally anticipated...

As soon as Harry takes in my expression, I see adoration cloud his eyes, then he's leaned down and connected his lips to mine. I try to kiss him back, but can't keep from smiling at how happy I am. I have to strain onto the very tips of my toes to be able to reach his lips and I know he's already leaning down significantly.

Harry begins to giggle. I pull away and arch my eyebrow accusingly, as if to ask him what he's laughing at, a smirk on my face.

"You're just so short!" He exclaims with a chuckle and I swat at his chest.

"I know I'm short." I try to appear angry, but can't keep the grin off my face. I seem to be smiling a lot today.

"I love it, babe, don't worry." Harry assures, babying me as he tries to keep himself from laughing again.

"You better." I tease.

We take in the view for a couple more minutes, before retreating hand in hand back towards the elevator. I'm eager to leave- the sooner we evacuate the sooner the people waiting below us will have a chance to come up.

"You guys go down ahead of us, we've got to get a handle on some of the equipment." One of the three camera men tells us. I had almost forgotten that we were being filmed. I don't need to be told twice and hastily pull Harry towards the elevator. I'd rather not take the risk of them changing their minds. I want to be alone with Harry and don't know when I'll get another chance.

We board and the doors close behind us. Harry pulls me to his chest, not wasting any of our time off camera, and places his lips to mine, slipping his tongue delicately into my mouth. I kiss him back greedily and I feel his hands migrate to my ass, where they slip under my dress.

"Where'd 'ya get this little thing, love?" Harry asks me huskily, his tone almost enough to make me gasp.

"Why, do you like it?" I ask him innocently, smirking a little as he pulls me in for another kiss. He just chuckles then bites his lip. That's all the answer I need.

Harry leads me outside, a hand placed to my lower back, guiding me, easily disguising the passionate moment we just shared.

Once the producers and camera men have joined us, Harry sets off, yet again, in another direction.

"Any idea where we're going now?" I ask.

"Nope, just wandering aimlessly like an idiot." Harry announces and I laugh. We walk for a while longer and on our way pass a huge building. It looks nearly a kilometre square and I peer curiously at the entranceway as we pass to get a look at the name.

'Museè de l'armeè' It reads.

"Oh, Harry! It's the War Memorial museum!" I exclaim in glee, tugging him eagerly towards the entrance. Of all topics relating to history, I've always loved war the most. A little morbid, I realize, but nonetheless interesting.

"Wanna go in?" He asks encouragingly and I nod furiously. The pure history contained within the making of the building that holds the artifacts itself is enough to set my hear alight with excitement.

"Keep walking, you two, you haven't arrived yet." A producer calls from behind us.

"She wants to go in." Harry informs the producer a little strictly, I notice.

"And I want a beer. Keep walking, we don't have all day."

"I said, she wants to go in." Harry repeats, standing his ground, raising his voice a little.

The producer begins to respond with some snarky comment yet again, but I cut both of them off.

"Oh, don't worry, it's fine. I don't want to. We'll keep walking." I concede before pulling Harry along with me as I continue forwards, away from the entrance of the museum.

"What are you doing?" Harry asks me, concern engulfing his features.

"Not worth the fight. I don't want to cause any trouble." I smile up sadly at him. I try to hide my disappointment from Harry. It's difficult, but I manage after a couple minutes as we continue on our way. I look to Harry a couple times and find a deep frown set over his features.

We finally reach our destination and I realize it's the Louvre. Not a bad replacement for the previous museum, although still not my first choice. I relish in the fact that I'll at least get a chance to admire some form of history.

We enter once again without joining a queue and head off in the direction of the statue gallery. We walk around and I point out my particular favourites.

"Look at that one!" I exclaim, walking eagerly towards it. Poor Harry is dragged by me from one statue to the next as my interest is peaked countless times. However, he doesn't seem annoyed or frustrated really, but more preoccupied with me than the statues.

Harry now inspects the work of art we stand before.

"Yeah, it's nice and all. Got a bit of a small, um, lower hemisphere, if 'ya know what I mean." Harry chortles as he takes in the sculpture. I roll my eyes as I turn to him.

"A little too familiar, hey?" I ask teasingly, knowing that nothing could be farther from the truth.

"Oh, yes, definitely." Harry responds seriously, nodding in approval at my statement. I burst out into giggles but don't have much time to mock him before I rush off for another statue. Harry obediently follows as I haul him around the museum, until we arrive to a section withholding paintings. Harry doesn't refrain from making a couple more jokes involving the private areas of most of the characters illustrated, that is until I scold him for not appreciating fine art. I'm just coming to the end of the first hall, eager to move onto the second, when a producer calls out to us.

"Hey, Harry, Charlotte, time to go!" They call from a couple feet back, not bothering to look up from their phone.

"What?" I ask cautiously. Not again.

"We've got all the shots we need. We're leaving." The producer instructs. I sigh in disappointment and can't help but drag my feet a little as I trudge beside Harry back out of the museum. We barely had a chance to see any of the art at all.

The producers have us sit down at a cafe for lunch next, where they film us talking politely to each other, but my mood has been put off. I know I'm on their show and I have to do what the producers tell me, but I didn't realize they would be keeping me from seeing things I may never get the chance to see again.

We finish lunch swiftly and I know Harry can tell I'm in a bad mood. We walk in silence for a while as I try to keep from scowling at the ground. I find we reside on the same sidewalk we took initially and know we're on our way back to the hotel.

"So, who d'ya think walked right here a hundred years back?" Harry turns and asks me, nothing but interest conveyed through his tone, except for a slight hint of amusement.

"Harry..." I trail off. I'm definitely not in the mood right now.

"I reckon maybe one of them bread makers, like from Beauty in the Beast. Or like one of those French escorts from back in the day! You know the ones with their boobs out all the time!" He exclaims, looking around wildly, as if searching for the people he just mentioned. I can't help the quirk in my lips as I fight a smile.

"Or maybe that short little bloke who started all those wars... there's an ice cream named after him, you know." Harry continues.

"Napoleon?" I ask, looking up at Harry now with a large grin.

"Yeah! That's him!" He shouts with enthusiasm.

"He died more than a hundred years ago." I giggle. I can't help but correct him.

"Potato, Pot-ah-to." Harry shrugs and continues to look around. "So, who d'you think?" He asks, turning to me eagerly once more.

"Probably soldiers, or a part of the working class, from the steel mills or something. There was war 100 years ago." I tell him.

"Yeah, yeah, that's the smart answer then. Wouldn't have expected anything less." Harry sighs in mock exasperation. I laugh.

"Maybe one of those assassins! If we go back around 170 years instead! That'd be around... 1847, 1848? Time of the French revolutions you know. All those monarchs getting killed left and right." I tell him, trying to come up with a less serious answer but failing miserably in my explanation.

Harry stares down again at me with astonishment and I blush.

"My little know-it-all." Harry coos from beside me and I chuckle.

"Stop it!"

"Make me." He teases and I find myself wanting to jump on top of him and do just that.

"Unfortunately, my way of shutting you up would not be too appropriate for the sidewalk." I poke fun and I can see his eyes flash with all the possibilities I could be proposing.

"Yes, that is unfortunate." He responds and I find that we've arrived at my hotel. I remember that Harry's is only around the corner. I glance to my watch and find it's 4 PM now.

"Well, this is me, I guess." I tell him, gesturing to the entrance of the building in which my own apartment resides. He nods. "I'll see you for dinner tonight?" I ask him and he pauses for a moment.

"Actually, no dinner for this date..." He trails off, yet another wave of disappointment hitting me. Every other girl with a one-on-one has been given a dinner date to top off their time with Harry during the day.

"Ask the producers, believe me, it wasn't my decision." He informs me sadly. I nod in understanding and suddenly, Harry pulls something out from behind himself. A long stemmed rose resides clutched between his fingers delicately.

"This is for you. I absolutely loved today, you made it amazing." Harry tells me, handing it to me, and I can't help the relief I feel at the fact I'm insured to stay another week. After the rose ceremony on Sunday, I'll start making money. I can't believe it. I've succeeded in my goal. At least part way.

I take the rose.

"Thank you very much." I respond with a shy smile and Harry leans down to connect his lips to mine. He stays attached longer than normal, and turns us so that his back is to the cameras. Slowly, I feel his hand trail up my waist and rest once again against the material covering my chest, before his hand slips into my dress and deposits something. He pulls his fingers back out again swiftly, as if they were never there.

I feel paper pushing against me and realize a note has been deposited down the front of my dress.

"Goodbye Charlotte." Harry finally pulls away, affording me a small wink, before walking off down the street towards his own hotel. I try to stop from blushing out of shock and I'm relieved when the cameras lower and follow Harry, allowing me a moment to myself.

***

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L