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“And tonight,” Harry goes on, lips curling, “since we’re in Paris—she did the Eiffel Tower.”
A beat.
Then Louis says, “No wonder you like her music so much.”
Harry full on cackles into the pillow, his voice breathy and sweet. “….I want to try it.”
There’s a pause, longer this time.
“You want to be Eiffel Towered?”
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