Misfits (#2)

35

"Sage Day would never happen if that was the case." I step around him, hurrying back into the villa as the breeze slips against my bare legs, dressed in just my silk nightgown.

"Be ready in half an hour." He calls.

"Comme tu veux, mon frère!" I call back, hearing him chuckle as I enter the villa again. The marble floors greet my bare feet, the cold sinking into my skin.

I linger my way up the curved staircase and down the lengthy halls, paintings covering the walls every now and again. I make it to my room, which is already a bit of a mess, clothes spilling out from my suitcase.

I don't care for it as I sit on my bed, cross-legged and reach for my phone. Unlocking it, I check the time. It's nearing half eight in the morning here, which means it's half two, in Kilned.

To be sure, I text Everest first.

Hi. Are you up?

He's a late sleeper and I hadn't FaceTimed him yesterday, only texts throughout the day. I had accompanied Sage to a few of his business meetings and had an all round busy day. Likewise, Everest had practice all day and a shift at work.

I go to toss my phone. He's probably sleeping. Or, he should be anyways-

The ringing sounds out and I yank my phone back. Spotting the FaceTime call from him makes something bloom in my stomach. Butterflies, I realise.

I pick up.

And then I smile, almost immediately, because he's in bed. He's set his phone on the bedside table, cheek slumped against his pillow and hair all messy over the pillow. The light from the phone illuminates the curves of his shoulder, and his face enough for me to make out the tired, genuine smile that curves at his lips.

"Hi, sweetheart." He barely whispers.

"Hi." I say back, "I didn't mean to wake you."

He shakes his head, "I couldn't sleep. It's okay."

For a moment, we just look at each other through the call. I shouldn't miss him this much when it's only been a few days but the constant texts make me miss his presence so much more.

He'd won his soccer match on Monday and Ollie had sent me the picture of him that was put in the front cover of the local paper. Everest didn't care but I wanted to see it. It was him scoring the winning goal.

He texts me when he wins. He texts me when he's bored and I text him in between the books I'm reading, or the trips I take to town.

He shifts slightly, crossing a forearm under his head with his eyes on mine, "I think France makes you more beautiful, somehow."

"That's not logical. Maybe you just miss me." I flush.

"That too, fuck yeah." He muses, "What are the plans for today?"

He asks me it every day and every day, I start rambling like a buffoon. So I try to reign it in as I tell him, "We're having a Sage Day."

"A what?"

"Sage doesn't really like Provence. He doesn't appreciate all its prettiness so it's my one, true mission to change that." I say, "Today is the day. I'm telling you, I feel it in my bones."

His lips rise, "You got this, Vy. If anyone can convince someone that fields and markets aren't fucking boring, it's you."

"Shut up. What would you prefer? Clubs in freaking Las Vegas. Or doing drugs in— I don't know where people commonly take drugs." I mutter.

His eyes shine with amusement, suppressing a laugh, "So is that all I am to you? A neanderthal?"

"Yup. You shouldn't get ahead of yourself." I start to smile.