Cannes | H.S

Evermore

"I'm sorry, Miss James, but you're going to have to take your seat. The plane is about to land."

I nod urgently and without genuine confirmation of such a reality, focusing my upmost attention on the stunned man before me. His lips turn into a small smile as he continues to meet my eyes, yet the very moment I place my hand over his, he gasps as I ask the question on my mind. "Are you okay?" I say, remembering the horrific events in my dream just prior to our spontaneous meeting.

It's as if nobody up until this very moment had ever asked him this sort of question as he looks at me in complete and utter awe, unsure how to proceed forward without causing any further damage. It's only when the presence of a single tear rolls down his face that I have the answer to my question. He continues to look at me, but with a sort of familiarity as if I too have been the source of his dreams.

"Miss James, please, I kindly ask that you take your seat," I'm informed once more, breaking whatever this could have been in the meantime.

The man I've entangled chuckles, brushing off our odd exchange, offering the same hand I once held out of friendly comfort to stand on my own two feet. Only, this time, when our hands meet, it's as if the spark I've desperately been searching for my entire life has been started, shining brightly and with full force. He seems to feel the same way, furrowing his brows together, looking at me with increasingly growing recognition. Before he can say anything, the flight attendant escorts me back to my own seat for the purpose of my safety of course. I thank her and apologize for being such a nuisance, buckling up for a swift landing. Alfonzo eyes me suspiciously, curious for the cause of my growingly odd behavior, but thankfully decides against it.

When the plane does in fact land and it's okay to be escorted off, I linger around for far too long, wanting one more glance of the familiar stranger. However, that's deemed impossible as security informs us that the paparazzi has grown at a rather large and quite dangerous scale. I sigh disappointedly, moving my way through customs, insisting that I pick up my luggage here and now instead of waiting for it to be delivered to the hotel room. And as I await for its arrival, I spot its unique design from pretty much a mile away. I rush towards it before it falls into a familiar cycle, reaching for the handle, flabbergasted that another begins to do the same. The man quite literally of my dreams stands before me, a bit confused as to why I'm holding this suitcase. He eyes me a bit subtly from head to toe, a hint of playful mischief adoring his face as he bites harshly down upon his lips.

"Love, you've already ruined one of my shirts. One more is going to cost you," he teases, holding his hands up innocently, allowing me to see that he did in fact change his shirt in such a short amount of time.

"I know this is rather weird, but this is my suitcase. And I can prove it."

"Can you now?"

"I can promise that you didn't pack this," I state, opening the case just a little to show a peak of the infamous pleasure toy tucked carefully in the pocket.

His face blushes profoundly as he clears his throat, wanting to rub off the unexpected. I gather my belongings, noticing the persisting faces of security informing me that not much time is left before we need to leave. "Are you taking the back exit?"

"What?"

"That's a paparazzi trap. They expect you to take the back. If you quite literally go through the front doors of the airport you'll have a greater chance of avoiding crowds."

"Speaking from experience?"

"What can I say, I'm quite the experienced chap." This time, I'm the one who blushes like a complete schoolgirl for the first time in my life. He notices my response, smirking in satisfaction as he toys with the many jeweled rings upon his fingers. "Come on little darling, follow me."