French Beauty (gxg)

6

The song for this chapter is "Dream a Little Dream of Me" sung by Amy Vachal. Her voice is so unique.

Giselle POV:

Rose was lying on my bed, still in her dress that she wore to the party. I have no idea how she managed to get here so fast. Matt told me he dropped her off at her house, but here she is.

She doesn't live too far from me, but not close enough that she can somehow get to my own house before me. Although, to be fair, I was taking a long time to get home. I had been searching for her at the party for at least ten minutes, then the walk to the car was about 5 minutes, plus I stayed in my car for a few minutes to call Matt. Also, I tend to drive slower when it's dark out, just to be safe.

She was facing the wall so her back was to me. I wasn't sure if she was awake or asleep, and I wasn't sure what I would say to her. Do I bring up the kiss or just act like it  never happened?

She didn't respond when I said her name earlier, so I tried again, "Rose?" I kept my voice quiet, just in case she was asleep, I didn't want to wake her.

She didn't respond again so I figured she was asleep.

I turned off the light and climbed back under the sheets. I made sure to keep a distance between myself and Rose because even though I wanted nothing more in this world than to snuggle into her, I knew that at the moment she is probably overwhelmed and would not be pleased to wake up with me holding on to her.

A few minutes later I felt her shift in the bed. My back was facing her so I wasn't sure whether she was awake or just moved in her sleep. I assumed it was the latter and tried to go to sleep.

"Giselle," she said with her velvety voice. My name sounded different rolling off her tongue than when others said it. It might be because she pronounced it as a french name which made it more beautiful than when people who speak English as their first language say it.

I turned in her direction surprised to find the she was facing towards me. Even though it was dark, there was a little light escaping the sides of my curtains allowing the street lamp light through. I could barely make out the figure of her face.

"Rose," my voice just as soft as hers was.

She brought her hand up from underneath the blankets, placed her hand on my face, and lightly ran her thumb back and forth on my cheek.

"I'm sorry," she breathed. It was hard to understand her since she was speaking so quietly, but because of our proximity I was able to hear her.

"Don't be," I knew she was referring to the kiss. I didn't want her to feel guilty for kissing me, I know I sure as hell didn't feel guilty for kissing her.

"I-I," she took a deep breath, "I shouldn't have."

"Rose," I gently placed a hand over her hand that was on my face, "don't be sorry. Please, don't be sorry."

She stayed silent.

"Le seul vrai langage au monde est un baiser," I said.

Translation: "The only true language in the world is a kiss."

She still didn't respond, but I heard her take a deep breath.

"Why did you kiss me?" I asked.

"Je ne sais pas," she replied.

Translation: "I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

"Non, c'est vrai. Je ne sais pas pourquoi."

Translation: "No, it's true. I don't know why."

"I don't follow." I had no idea what she meant. She doesn't know why she kissed me? She seemed to know when it was happening. Clearly she had to have been thinking while it happened since she had pushed me against the wall and kissed me.