Cannes | H.S

Truce

Layla

My essentials are packed and gathered as I take one final glance around the suite before tying my cover up with a precise knot. I've got it all—shades, a newly created playlist, and my decadent lunch. Grace is not pleased as she sits at her desk, typing away tomorrow's heavily planned schedule.

"The paps will be scattered everywhere. Are you sure you want to go out?"

"I've been stuck inside ever since we landed."

"Layla..."

"See you later Grace," I say, rushing out the door before she can book another shoot before the afternoon is finished.

Alfonzo and I venture out towards the elevator as we're taken into the lobby, finding the private beach access before stepping out into the warm and inviting sun. Immediately, I remove my sandals, tossing them into my bag to allow the white sand to warm up my feet. People are joyful; out and about, loving every moment of such fantastic weather. Men and women are out surfing and catching strong waves while others hope to improve their golden composure under the sun.

Alfonzo, who I know is still angry with me from my little adventure two days ago, guides me towards my favorite spot to lounge. Colorful umbrellas are scattered about, hoping to offer up some cool shade while refreshing drinks are passed out to enjoy. And as I get closer and closer towards the end of the row, I find my seat to be taken. Low and behold, the same man who had the balls to claim my suitcase as his own rests on my chair. Sure, my name isn't printed on the side nor do I have a reservation. Yet, it's nearly the only spot on the entire beach in which your photo won't be captured by paparazzi. His chest is bare, revealing many more drawings as he wears a thick pair of tinted shades to hide his eyes. I clear my throat, hoping to capture his attention and clear out such a misunderstanding. Thankfully, I thought I had seen the last of him since our unfortunate encounter. But now, it appears I'm not so lucky. When he doesn't bother to respond, I clear my throat even louder, much to my dismay.

"You may want to get that checked out," He mutters, removing his shades to take one good look at me. His eyes land on the irritated glare on my face, casually falling to observe the orange one piece that has slipped through my white cover up. "To what do I owe the pleasure, little darling?"

"You're in my chair."

He frowns, pouting as he takes a proper look around the area while shaking his head in the aftermath. "A simple hello would suffice."

"Must you be so infuriating?"

"Must you be so demanding? I've done nothing wrong. Simply minding my own business, enjoying the sun."

His tone is sincere, making me feel bad in the slightest possible way for behaving rudely towards him. It's just that through the course of this entire trip, these precious few hours sitting by the ocean is all the time I have to be alone and carefree.

"I'm sorry," I say genuinely. "It's just, that chair is practically in the one spot in which my photo won't be taken. And I only have two hours."

A pause.

He takes a moment to look at me entirely, meeting the sadness that must be evident in my eyes. And so, it doesn't take long at all before he moves his towel and novel to the chair on the left. I can't be bothered to hide my excitement as a large smile partakes on my lips. Alfonzo proceeds to sit a few feet away, giving me some much desired privacy.

"Thank you," I reply, knowing he too doesn't wish to have his time captured for the world to see.

I lay out my towel, leaning back before unwrapping my delicious lunch made exclusively for me by the kitchen chef. For I've looked forward to such a meal for nearly an entire year. The smell of such a hearty burger is enticing as I happily study the many toppings of veggies and cheese. It's then in which I realize that my actions must seem odd to others as I sit here, basking in the presence of a sandwich. But as I quickly look to my left, a certain musician doesn't utter a single word as he remains lost in his current read. And I don't know why I do it. Perhaps it's because I feel responsible for my cold behavior earlier or it's the warmth of the sun. However, I find myself cutting the burger in half, offering the second piece.