Author's Note: This is an idea I've had in my head for a while. I've always loved the idea of romantic Mallison so this is just me playing around with dynamics. Not sure how long this will be. Basically Malia is a foreign exchange student doing study abroad in Paris for college because we all know how much she wanted to see France. Enjoy and let me know if I should continue.

Chapter One: Girls Like Girls Like Boys Like Boys

Song Inspiration: "Bubble Gum" Clairo

MALIA POV:

Yawning, I remove the duvet off my bed and blow wisps of hair out of my face as I wrap the silky beige sheets around my naked body. My red and black lingerie discarded in the corner of the room, I shuffle to the double doors that lead out to the balcony of the French Suite that would be my new home for the next six months.

I turn over my shoulder and bite my bottom lip, seeing a boyish, messy bed head falling in golden-brown ringlets of the guy I'd met at the bar last night. Isaac, I think his name is. His accent is what initially caught my attention, the suave charm falling off of him in waves, every word he said dripped in sex. He'd offered to buy me a drink and I'd casually shut him down resulting in his raspberry lips pulling back in a smirk and asking for my name.

"Wendy" I had supplied with a coy smile which he playfully narrowed his eyes at.

"That name doesn't suit you, Wendy darling." He supplied cheekily with reckless dimples peeking out below the sharpness of his cheekbones. He scooted a little closer and was even so bold as to brace his hand flat against my knee and leaned in to whisper, "You look more like a… Shelley."

I'd smirked at that and decided to play along for the rest of the night. He was cute and had a sense of humor, might as well see what else he had going for him. It was my first night in the lighted city and I figured I deserved to have a little fun. And nothing is more fun then a steamy one night stand with a beautiful stranger. And for the record, he really is beautiful. And lets just say by the end of the night he was eating me out like I was a fucking French cuisine.

My dimples pull at the corner of my lips as I fight the memory away and strut out to the terrace with the sheets still wrapped around me.

The morning is melting pot of pastels: lavender, dusty rose, and splashes of peach. The smell of croissants and brown sugar fill the streets down below where adults and children alike roam the streets: some on a nice stroll, a few risking it on a bike ride, and others coupled up like young lovers do, holding hands as they gravitate towards each other.

I feel Isaac's heat signature behind me just as a knitted navy scarf wraps around my bare shoulders. He leans over me trailing kisses down my neck until he reaches my sweet spot and I'm melting in his hands. He chuckles at my moans and strokes the soft skin there, "You'll catch a cold out here, Shelley."

I shove him away playfully and skim the silk sheets further down my shoulders teasingly to expose my collarbones and the mounds of my breasts, "It's Wendy, or did you forget?" I murmur in a raspy lilt.

He chuckles as his ocean blue eyes sparkle with mischief, "I wouldn't be opposed to you reminding me again, Mon chérie." Those disarming dimples making a reappearance.

"Maybe some other time, Blue eyes. I don't have time to be one of your little French girls today." I flirt with a little quirk of my lips. "I have sight seeing to do and a ton of paperwork to catch up on before my first day of class tomorrow." I say, shuffling around him and throwing on some underwear deciding to forgo the bra. My tits are perky and cute, why not flaunt them on my first day in the city of love?

I pull out a chic black form-fitting dress from my walk-in closet that's casual enough that I don't look too dressed up, pair it with some strappy ankle boots, a vintage Gucci belt, and throw on my favorite slate grey trench coat. Moving around Isaac as he watches me in fascination, I apply a natural warm eye shadow and coat my long lashes with some mascara and run a bit of the brown shadow underneath my eyes for a dewy effect. Lastly, I apply a thin coat of bold red lipstick to make a statement.

Today is the day that I get to live again.

My brown hair falls in tumbling waves a little down past my shoulders. I grab the floppy black hat off the coat hanger by the door and blow Isaac a kiss, "Be gone when I get back." I mutter sharply with an arched brow before making a move to leave. I stop and throw a charming smile over my shoulder, "And the name is Malia, by the way."

I wave to the doorman on my way out the revolving door, "See you later, Harold." I smile lazily as I wrap my coat a light tighter around me. The morning has a bit of a chill to it, but it's a good kind of cold.

"Of course, Miss Malia, I'll be here. Should I be expecting another visit from that handsome fellow you brought home with you last night, your boyfriend, perhaps? He was rather fetching if I do say so myself, Mademoiselle."

I throw him a sly wink, "He's all yours, Harold."

He blushes but doesn't say anything in return.

With my satchel over my shoulder and my computer case in my hand, I move into the sea of people and become one of them, another faceless stranger in the crowd. Beacon Hills is a small town where everybody knows everybody. I guess it's nice to be nobody for once.

Speaking of home, I do miss it a little. There were moments before stepping on the plane that I wasn't sure if I could do it or not. I'm eighteen and I've never been anywhere. Never gone off on my own, been on a plane, or even a train. Scott held my hand and walked me to the doors.

"I'm going to miss you, Lia."

I snuggled into his arms, "You know I'm not good at this." I mumble, looking up at his warm brown eyes, "I'm not good at- saying goodbye." I whimper, silent tears spilling down my face like a leaky faucet.

He pulled me closer with his nose in my hair, "I'm so proud of you for making it this far. I know finishing high school wasn't easy for you. I know that you've felt stuck for a while and you weren't sure why, but I did. You'd outgrown this place a long time ago. It is time you start living for yourself, even if I really don't want to see you go."

My cheek presses against his as I lean into his ear, "Come with me."

I could feel his warm breath against my neck and his smile against my shoulder, "I'll just cramp your style. Paris is a very fashionable place and I don't think I'm cut out for it. I'm just- me." He teases but I can tell he feels some truth behind that.

"You're Scott." I confirm, cupping his cheek, memorizing those kind eyes and the way his crooked jaw off-sets his whole smile in the most unsuspectingly cute way, "And you'll always be home."

A film of tears fogs his eyes and I can tell there's something he wants to say but he swallows it down, too selfless to say anything that might change my mind. His lips press into my forehead, "Take care of yourself and keep in touch. I don't think I can go too long without hearing from you."

My eyes close as I grip onto his Henley with shaking fingers, "I always do."

He backs up away from me, the proximity between us growing fainter as he puts distance between us, "I'm looking forward to a postcard." He smiles softly in a way that is so Scott McCall that it hurts.

I run to him, filling the distance between us and leap into his arms for one last hug, "I'll call you when I land."

The memory tickles at the edge of my mind and I let out a sigh. Scott and I have always been complicated. We've been friends for years. Friends- but never quite just friends. We've held a quiet intimacy that isn't lost on either of us. But neither of us ever took the plunge into the unknown, never dove headfirst into the possibilities of what we could be to each other. Something similar to what we already are. Unspoken, of course. Sometimes I regret it. Sometimes I resent him for being so soft spoken and reserved. But another part of me is relieved. Because if he would of said something sooner, I don't know if I ever would of left that sleepy town behind.

I duck into a quaint little coffee shop on the corner of the cobblestone street when it begins to rain. I find my footing in the homey feel of the little cafe; plush couches, mahogany tables, vanilla in-scents, and the wobbly piano that sits in the corner of the tiny floor space demanding all the attention.

Shrugging off my trench coat, I find a small table and set my stuff down, fishing my wallet out of my purse and make my way to the check out counter. I scan the array of different pastries and delicacies that make my mouth water. I have my eye on a loaf of bread in the back when a silvery voice catches my attention.

"The pumpkin bread is to die for. We're known for having the best in all of Paris."

I look up and I'm drawn in by the sight of smokey brown eyes falling underneath long dark lashes. I follow the path of her face; plush pink lips, a cute button nose, peaches and creme skin with flushed cheeks, and a head of medium length chestnut hair. I'm going to be honest, she's probably the most enchanting girl I've ever seen.

I swallow the lump in my throat and pull myself together, "Those are some big shoes to fill." I acknowledge with a soft smirk which she returns.

Her low-lidded eyes dance across my face. She peeks down at my lips before meeting my gaze with a faint blush when she realizes I noticed her checking me out. She bites her lip and looks down at the counter as her lashes fall against her cheeks.

Everything about her is so soft, delicate. But something tells me that there's more to her than that.

She looks back up at me with a shy smile, "Were you ready to order?"

I give her an encouraging smile, "I'll take the pumpkin bread and an iced soy latte, please."

She nods her head nervously and meets my eyes again, "Can I get your name for the order."

I lean in a little closer until I can smell her cherry blossom scent, "Malia." I supply.

She smiles widely, jotting down the name on the cup with her mouth opened in a little 'o' and her tiny pink tongue peeking out in a look of concentration. I inspect her script to see if she spelled it right and she did. She even dots her 'I' with a heart. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

She purses her lips as if trying to fight a smile, herself. "I'll have it brought out to you in a couple of minutes."

Our fingers brush when I hand her the cash and I hear her exhale at the simple touch, "Keep the change." I mumble a little more than friendly, walking back over to my table to wait for my order.

Over the next couple of minutes, orders are called and hand-delivered to different guests around the shop. I make eye contact with the mystery barista across the room a few times, catching her sneaking a look every once in a while but she always looks away before I can hold her gaze. Finally my order is announced and she brings me a generous helping of pumpkin bread on a fancy plate and my coffee. I noticed that she hadn't ran any of the other orders out herself, choosing to hide behind the counter until my order was ready. The realization makes me internally smirk.

I sneak a glimpse at her name tag when she bends over to set the silverware and napkins down, "Thanks for the recommendation," I peer a little closer at the name, "Allison."

Her cocoa eyes carry a flirty edge to them, "The pleasure was all mine. Let me know if I can get you anything else." She says with a subtle dance of her eyes over mine and a tone that leaks of implication before she walks away with a sway of her curvy hips with my eyes following behind her.

Author's Note: Should I continue? Leave some feedback if you're interested in more.