Leeway // Joe Mazzello

33|| "Loverboy"

They fell side by side, allowing the comfortable silence to fall over them again. They enjoyed the distant call of Paris, soaking up each other's presence.

Octavia rolled over and laid on his chest, facing him. She admired his welcoming eyes for a moment too long.

"What are we doing today Monsieur Mazzello?" She asked with a smile, catching Joe chuckling to himself.

"Well..." He took great attention to her arm, tracing it with his fingertips up and down as he pondered the question, "I was thinking we tour the Eiffel Tower, grab lunch and then see where the afternoon takes us. Dinner is the main attraction, but that's a secret." He smiled coyly to which she rolled her eyes at. She liked to pretend she hated surprises, but he knew her better than that.

Octavia began discovering new things she liked about Joe. She liked that he took initiative. She liked that he planned stuff. And she liked that he paid attention to her in the sense that he somehow always knew exactly what she liked. She liked that Joe seemed to be perfect, that he was crafted specifically for her.

For her and only her. For once she felt like she wasn't sharing Joe with a million different people being pulled in a million different directions for a million hours a day. She didn't want to share him, not after she just got him.

The world didn't deserve Joseph Mazzello. She didn't even feel like she did herself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Octavia wasn't quite sure what people wore in Paris, not that she was trying to fit in- just didn't want to look like a complete idiot.

She wore her hair long and loosely curled, accepting the fact that her hair was just simply not meant for anything other than waves or straight ends.

She opted for a plain tan skirt, adding black stockings underneath with a fitted, flattering long-sleeved black shirt. She added one of her favorite necklaces and a few rings. She zipped up her knee high black boots and tossed on a long tweed jacket to match her skirt. And a tan beret for good measure.

Octavia glanced at Joes reflection in the mirror, who seemed to be watching her meticulously, his body relaxed and leaning against the doorway to the bathroom.

"You're staring, Joe." She broke his focus.

"I'm gazing." He fought back.

"It's creepy." She turned around to face him.

"It's romantic, besides you look..." he trailed.

"Ridiculous?"

"Phenomenal."

She scoffed at him, and turned back to the mirror. Joe was just so ridiculously romantic.

"You don't believe me?" He challenged her.

"No I do believe you. That's the problem."

"That's a problem?"

"No it's just..."

"You can't take a compliment?" He quirked an eyebrow.