French Lover; Antoine Griezmann

Chapter Four

The hotel, first. It was called The Sirenuse and, as I would happy to tell you, it was one of the most luxurious in the whole of Paris. My room was huge and didn't look like a hotel room at all; more like a guest suite in an Italian palace. The bed was king-sized with pure white, Egyptian cotton sheets. I had my own desk, a thirty-six-inch TV with video and DVD, a sprawling leather sofa, and, on the other side of the floor-to-ceiling windows was my own private terrace. And the bathroom! As well as the power shower, there was a bath big enough for a football team, and a Jacuzzi. Everything in marble and handcrafted tiles.

Picking up my pace, I dashed around the room with my phone, placing it on the living room coffee table, admiring the beautiful blue blossoms. I better get ready, it's already eight. What to wear... what to wear. I bounce through the closet looking for something casual. Oh... wait. I have to dress 'nicely'. The creamy sheets of the silk dress slipped onto my shoulders, peppering my body with soft, sensual kisses. Like a lover, it seduced the senses and conveyed with utmost skill the art of pleasing. I couldn't stand still and my body jiggled excitedly as I freshened my makeup. Checking the time, it was eight forty-five. I better go.

I wouldn't have worn this to anything else. Knowing by the look Antoine had given me, he sure had planned something else and getting my journal wouldn't be that easy. Besides, I wouldn't want to be roaming around this fine city wearing sweatpants and something less fashionable than what people wear here. I slipped both of my feet into my pair of heels before I looked at myself in the mirror once more. I took a deep breath and left my hotel room, of course, without leaving my keys behind. I wouldn't want to be locked out at night wouldn't I?

Caution; I thought. I didn't know Antoine. He was still a stranger to me. But why did I want him to like me? Not as in a 'attracted' kind of way but I wanted him to like me enough that he would regard me as someone he'd trust and be friends with. Apart form home, I never really got out of my personal space to meet new faces.

I arrived at the hotel lobby and looked around. He was late. Well, no actually. He still had five minutes.

I sat on the lounge area as I admired the lobby. There were indeed so many people and already, it was making my anxiety grow. I stood up, with the intention to leave before a man stopped in front of me.

"Bonsoir! Leaving so fast?" Antoine smiled.

He wore a black silk button up and black trousers.However,he got better the more I looked. His rich brown hair that had tousled griminess which promised finesse. The golden stands in his hair caught my eyes as well. I never noticed that he had strong arched brows and eyelashes so thick, it could be illegal. And then his eyes- they were deep and catastrophic, a vivid baby blue as a great body of water that softly melted into a milky green .This close, I could see the flecks of silver in his eyes. It wasn't my first time looking into his eyes and describing it but every time I did, it looked even more mesmerising than five minutes ago. He had distinct cheekbones and an angular jaw, his pale skin made him look devilishly handsome tonight.

Snap out of it!

"You're late," I rolled my eyes, hoping that he hadn't notice me staring at him.

"Ma dame, I'm never late. I'm right on time," he says, pulling me to the corner where there wasn't as much people than in the lounge area,

"Where's the journal?" I asked.

"I believe it's this?" he smirked, pulling out my mini sized, blue covered journal.

Before I could reach out to snatch it, he pulled it away from me, keeping it back into his back pocket.

"Until tonight ends," he winked.

"What do you mean? Your night will not even continue if you don't give it back to me right now," I said, strengthening my tone.

"Kenna, I believe this is not a way to say thank you to someone for handling your carelessness," he says, which left me in silence.

"Perhaps you did as I told and you look beautiful tonight. Don't tell me you'll be going back to your hotel room and waste your precious hours getting ready right?" he raised an eyebrow and leaned closer.

He had a point.

"OK, what?"

"See it as a favour I'm doing for you. You want to get inspired? Follow me for tonight. Don't you think it'll be more inspirational to get out of this building?"

I remained silent as I brought my hand up to my chin, as if I was thinking hard.

"Fine. And then you'll give my journal back?"

"I'll keep that in mind. Do you trust me?" he asked.

He was crazy. How could I possibly trust someone I knew nothing of, apart from his cocky attitude? But his kind of crazy was exciting and thrilling which only wanted me to learn and know more about him. Maybe it was a good chance for me. For my work.

He brought me to walk around the park nearby where it was only lighted up with the street lamppost.

"What's this place?"

"They have the best ice cream truck here," he responded before he took a seat on the park bench and then patted the spot beside him. I sat down beside him and stared in silence.

"Well?"

"It should be here soon," he responded and took out my journal. He flipped through a few pages and stopped at the one he had marked with a small book mark.

"This page really caught my eye. 'My letter to Emma'. Who's Emma?" he asked, turning to face me.

"Did you remember when I told you I'm from England?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Well, my family move around a lot as my father is a business man so we're constantly moving around from town to town, country to country. Well, we basically had a 'pit stop' at Italy, where I made a friend. She was Emma. We stayed there longer than other places and usually, I wouldn't want to make friends as I'd only be attached to them and it wasn't worth it as I would be leaving after all," I paused to take a deep breath. The memories were forever etched in my mind. Of course, something so hurtful wouldn't leave my mind that easily.

"I'm sorry if I'm-"

"No it's fine," I said, cooling myself down.

"Well, she was the only friend I had. Apart from my grandmother, she was the only one I'd open up to. She understood me so much and everything but she never told me that she was battling cancer. As expected, I moved to Canada. It hurt me to leave her but I didn't have a choice. And then, one night I had a call from her and she knew she was going any time sooner. She begged me to come but I didn't thought it was anything important and I couldn't anyway. We were so far from each other. I wished I hadn't took her words lightly. Her mother called the next day and told me she passed away and her last wish was to meet me," I continued, breaking a tear.

Without hesitating, Antoine pulled me into a hug, wrapping his arms around me. I couldn't help it but to cry even more. Even though it hurts, talking about it had made me feel as if a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

"I'm sorry I asked," he heaved a sigh.

"No, I'm glad you asked. At least I had a weight lifted off me," I smiled, looking into his eyes again. We didn't break the eye contact and we both had a smile on our faces as we shared a few seconds of silence that had to only be broken by the ice cream truck.

"There it is!" Antoine says, pulling me by the wrist, towards the truck.