Isla's POV
"Wait where are you going? Our ride's not here yet," Saskia called, grabbing her jacket as I slipped my plain white vans on.
"We're walking stupid," I called over my shoulder, hurrying down the steps. I had decided to go with a simple outfit, a pair of black jeans, a maroon lace top with a kimono that had maroon pink and green flowers.
"What?!" she shrieked from inside the house.
"It's only 1/2 a mile!" I shouted back. I chuckled as I heard her groan loudly. The kimono I wore billowed behind me as a soft summer breeze swept through. The maroon top I wore had lace criss-crossing the back, which was really itchy but it was a nice outfit. Saskia would've killed me if I tried to change anyway.
"Is she coming?" Linette sighed, rolling her eyes. She pocketed her phone before storming up the 3 steps to the door.
"Bitch I'm hungry so you better get your ass out here!" she shouted, sticking her head in the door. I blinked in surprise, she must've really been hungry.
"Damn," Mathieu mumbled, hiding his laugh. Yann chuckled, watching her petite figure storm into the house. I could've sworn I saw the ghost of a smile appear on Elliot's face before he focused his attention on his phone.
"Ok, ok, let me go! Please not the hair! OW! Ow,ow,ow,ow,ow," Saskia winced, stumbling to keep up as Linette dragged her by her ponytail. It wasn't harsh but didn't look gentle either.
"You're a Rabat-joie (party pooper)," Saskia huffed, smoothing her hair out. We laughed as her stormed off towards the main street.
"Hey Saskia!" I called. She didn't turn. "You're going the wrong way!"
With that, she stopped abruptly and turned. She bit her lip as her cheeks flushed pink.
"Oops," she mumbled sheepishly. "Lead the way."
She started up a conversation with Linette as we walked at a leisurely pace to the restaurant. I hugged my waist as I walked, something I did often if I wasn't wearing a jacket. Like, what do you do with your hands? Where do they go if there's no pockets? I observed my surroundings as we walked. I loved cities at night, they seemed so magical. Scooters whizzed by and laughter could be heard as we neared the square. The clinking of glasses and cutlery flooded my ears as my feet pattered along the cobblestone path. I could smell wine and bread as we passed several restaurants. The place we were going to was further back along the row of restaurants. I turned my head slightly when I felt a presence beside me.
"Hello," Yann grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets. I caught the sight accent in his voice. I could always catch even the slightest hints of accents in English. But I loved hearing them. Accents gave people a sense of uniqueness and personality.
"Bonjour," I replied, smiling at him.
"Tu ne parles pas beaucoup (you don't talk much)," he noted, falling into step beside me as the path grew wider.
"Hein? Quoi? (Huh? What?) Are you ok? I talk so much," I replied in disbelief. He laughed , shaking his head.
"Maybe less compared to Saskia," he said, glancing over his shoulder.
"Oh for sure. That girl has no filter."
"I can see," he chuckled. "Linette's the quietest I believe."
"Definitely, she's much more reserved than we are," I agreed. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Saskia.
"Isla you better not get us lost!" she frowned, hurrying to catch up to me. I stopped, pulling out my phone.
YOU ARE READING
Collecting Polaroids |Slowburn|
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