Cannes | H.S

Inspiration

Layla

I felt foolish. Completely and utterly foolish as I debated over and over again in my mind if I should choose to proceed and step out of this hotel lobby. The staff must think I'm out of my mind as I eventually, convince myself to take another step. For I can't keep him waiting, that isn't appropriate and we don't have much time. And so, I eventually step out at such an early hour, observing the man sitting behind the wheel. For he's dressed to impressed in a floral shirt and dark trousers made evident from where I stand. His curls are tossed and styled. But those eyes, those eyes will render me weak every time. For the moment they land on me, I'm speechless.

He studies me closely as I must say some effort was put into the blush colored maxi dress I wear. Nothing too outrageous, but I did wish to look appropriate for such an outing in the morning sun. And while it hasn't welcomed us in its glorious presence yet, I anticipate its arrival soon. The streets are pretty bare and quiet as all soon get ready for another great day ahead. I, look around, fearing another step forward will have dire consequences.

"You only have two options here little darling. You can either get in this car and let me buy you that cup of coffee, or you can stand there and risk getting mobbed by the paparazzi. Take your pick."

I'm conflicted, standing by the lavish hotel entrance at such an early hour, knowing the promise of caffeine is my only chance of survival for the day. He knows it too as he sits in the classic white convertible, sporting vintage glasses as the sun decides to rise. I weigh out my options, deciding to climb into the passenger seat as he turns up the volume on a happy melody playing through the radio. He smirks largely at my actions, humming to himself as I fight a threatening smile of my own.

"Don't flatter yourself and keep your eyes on the road," I say in return.

"Yes ma'am. Buckle up."

And just like that, he removes his grip on the brakes, allowing us to venture off together into the morning sun as we create headlines.

The destined cafe is a short drive, offering serene views of the ocean as we step inside. It barely contains a handful of people, far too early to keep company. He holds the door open for me as I thank him in response, stepping foot into the air conditioned interior. A quaint sound of jazz fills the atmosphere as the smell of ground coffee and pastries captivates all who dare to enter. I look from behind the glass, craving such appetizing sweets along with a hot cappuccino. It's then in which I feel his intrigued eyes upon me. He smiles kindly, walking closer to ask such a question.

"What would you like?"

"What do you recommend?"

He looks around, pointing over in the corner. "Their scones are delicious."

"That sounds lovely. I'll have that and a cappuccino, please."

He nods in agreement, stepping forward to place our order. The poor girl at the cash register is flustered, stuttering on every other word as her face reddens completely. But instead of mocking her, he kindly makes her feel welcome, sparking a small conversation as I quietly stand to the side, gaining a small audience of my own in the process. It's then in which his eyes wander off to meet my own as he walks closer.

"You can pick whatever table you wish," he quietly states, allowing me to truly look around.

I decide for one in the far corner that overlooks the rising and tired waves of the ocean. The seats are inviting and warm as the sun begins to reflect through the glass. We sit, awaiting the arrival of our treats and drinks. At first, we're silent, awkwardly trying to pinpoint a topic for discussion.