clandestine | Olivier Giroud/Hugo Lloris

lust

Groan.
Release.

Olivier Giroud's eyes shot open. "What's wrong, Olivier?"

"Nothing," the Frenchman wiped his sweat away and looked over to Mathieu Flamini. "Just thinking about something."

"How was the charity ball yesterday? Met any ladies? Bet they all fawned over you."

Everyone did. Except for the woman he wants to fawn over him.

"Oh man, did you see Hugo's balling wife?" Alex trotted in, adding his comment to the conversation. "Too bad she's married. She'd look good next to me, right, Olivier?"

The Frenchman took a moment to respond. "Sure."

"What's up with you?" Alex replied, painstakingly placing the weight down on the ground. "Something got in your pants?" 

I wish.

"No," Olivier responded, his eyes not faltering ahead of him. "Just exhausted, that's all." Alex shrugged, and continued talking to Mathieu. 

"So about that lady," Alex began. Olivier could feel his grasp tighten on the machine. "She was so hot. That gown she rocked, man- I almost wished that she was single. I'm so glad Laurent made me go for him; I don't even speak French and I felt like I was on cloud nine. What's her name again?" 

"You don't even know her name?" Olivier felt himself getting furious, but trying hard to oppress his anger. 

"Chill, Olivier." Alex replied in defense. "I didn't even talk to her at all, I just looked at her from like, the bar."

The Frenchman set down his weight with a loud noise. "Don't you even know how to please a lady? You don't look at her without admiration, you hear me? A beautiful woman like her is already loved by Hugo. I don't even know why you were there- to just look at ladies?"

"Do you like her?"

"Shut up, Alex." 

"Do you even know her name? All you know is that she's Hugo's wife." Alex placed his utmost emphasis on the word wife. 

"Her name is Marjorie Evelyn Jones." 

"Correction," Alex quickly responded. "Marjorie Evelyn Jones Lloris." 

Olivier lifted up the metal object again, ignoring Alex. The English midfielder didn't give up speaking some sense into the Frenchman. "You know she's married, Olivier. It's not going to happen; unless you become a homewrecker, and I didn't know you had such a thing in you." 

The Frenchman continued to ignore the English lad, and Mathieu had already left the tension-filled room long ago. 

The two had almost gotten into a fight the next day ago, over Marjorie Evelyn Jones Lloris- of course, no one knew that except Olivier and Alex.

The next time Olivier saw Marjorie was in a supermarket; she was rolling her shopping cart gently down the refrigerated aisles, opening the fridge and shivering, her grey blazer hugging her figure.  He wasn't sure if he should go up to her, and say his plain greetings- did she even remember him? 

"Hi, Olivier." Fuck. 

Marjorie rolled her half filled shopping cart in front of him. "Hi, Marjorie. How have you been?" She smiled, as if she was pleased that he had remembered her. 

"Amazing," Marjorie replied, placing the pack of frozen meat into her cart, as her eyes moved to his cart, almost empty with the exception of milk and two cartons of ice cream. "You're shopping for groceries too, I'm assuming?" Marjorie rowed her cart forward, gesturing for Olivier to do the same- in which, he does, following her cart around the supermarket, somewhat blindingly.