Day 64
Arianna pushes her fingers into my hair and ruffles them from my scalp, giving it volume. Stepping aside, she gives me an overall look, studying the long hair strands she has stuck to my short ones in the past two-and-a-half hours.
Turns out, she enjoys having someone to try her wild makeup imaginations on. Not that I'm complaining. I like how she transforms me. It makes me feel feminine and normal.
"Perfect," she gushes. I smile, watching her reflection in the mirror. "We're readying the set. Your dress is in the bathroom and wear the shoes. They will be visible," she repeats herself for the hundredth time.
"Why can't it be you instead of me?" I whine, turning to face her.
She rolls her eyes, placing her hands on her hips. "Seriously? El, you know none of you guys are as good as me in photography, and I want flawless shots. It'll be a part of our YouTube videos' intro! And in my professional photography social media account. I'm not risking. Plus, you're in only two other clips that we're putting in the intro. So it has to be you. Quit whining." She spins and walks to the door but halts as her gaze lands on the loveseat. She faces me, pointing at the black jacket Adrien had given me in that insane night. "What's that?"
I shrug, "A jacket?"
"I can see that myself, smartass." She walks to it as she continues, "But whose? You don't have single black clothing in your wardrobe,"
"Adrien's," I mumble.
She twirls her round blue eyes locks with mine before passing the distance and picks it up. Her eyebrows jump so high she appears similar to a cartoon character. "He gave it to you?" she gasps. I frown. What is wrong with her? Arianna checks its collar, and another gasp falls from her parted lips. "Spill!" she squeals.
I squint as I tilt my head and stare at her with confusion. "In Florence when we were running away, we ended up spending a while in an alley near the river. My skirt was short, my feet were aching, and we were going to walk all the way back to the hotel. He tied it around my waist so I could sit on the ground for a while. We didn't stay anywhere in Italy long enough for me to give it for dry cleaning. But I did yesterday when we got here, and now it's ready. I put it there so I won't forget to return it to him," I explain.
"Holy shit," she breathes out.
"What?" I ask, getting more curious and a little annoyed.
"Adi has a couple of borderline rules and goes nuts if you do them. One of them is going near his stuff," she begins, not that she's making any sense, and nor can I find the connection. She sighs as she recognizes my confused expression. "Okay, let me tell you, if you touch his watch, he loses his shit, especially when it comes to the Patek Philippe or Louis Moinet. Combined, he paid for them about ten million dollars, but it's not the money, he's emotionally attached to them. He treats them like they are his babies," she speaks with disbelief. I giggle.
Ten million dollars. All caps lock fuck! Geez, that's a lot!
"The other are his cars. Don't touch them, even if your life depended on it, or go close to them. He will give you hell. I have firsthand experienced his wrath. He was a second away from murdering me when I shut the door a little too hard," she rolls her eyes at the mention of it. I swallow my giggles.
"Then his instrument collection. If you ever visit their house, don't even look at that room's direction. If you lay a finger on his guitar or any of the other instruments, consider yourself dead already. Rachel saved me from that fate, bless her soul," she rambles and I laugh receiving a playful glare from her. "I'm serious! It is unimaginable how much he spent on those. The piano is only worth five million dollars!" she exclaims.
I choke on my giggles as my eyeballs almost pop out of their sockets. "Shit, that's too extreme!" I breathe out.
"I know right! Designed with diamonds, twenty-four-carat gold and platinum, custom made for him. It's fucking insane, and I can't blame him for keeping everyone far from the room. But the last and final thing he's on the same level possessive and crazy are his clothes. Imagine someone ruining his piano, the reaction is predictable, now make that fifty times worse for touching his clothes. You get the idea," she pauses and I nod but barely able to wrap my mind around it.
"He was dating one of his classmates, I think it was the first semester of college. It was a weekend and we were chilling in his beach house. The poor girl wore his hoodie, didn't realize the psychopath he is, and the tantrum he threw when he saw her was awful," she waves her hands while talking.
She glances between the jacket and me and says, "So it's really surprising he gave his favorite Valentino jacket to you just so you can comfortably sit on the ground,"
"Maybe he has changed," I shrug.
Arianna snorts, "Sure,"
I squint. Why is it so impossible for her to believe he might have changed?
"El, you change when you sense the need to change, and trust me, a guy like Adrien won't,"
"Perhaps he wanted to be nice," I suggest.
A mischievous smile arches her lips, her blue eyes glinting, "Probably," she drawls.
I'm tempted to ask why she's behaving in this manner. Before I decide what to do, she adds, "Want me to return this to him," she holds up the jacket, and as I nod and thank her.
Arianna walks to the doorway, her hand rests on the doorknob as she turns to me. In a pointed voice says, "I'm waiting for you," and opens the door and walks out.
With a sigh, I rise and tread to the bathroom.
She can be weird sometimes and confusing.
I stare at my reflection. Long hair, similar to my natural hair's color, she has attached. It reaches my chest. The smokey eye shadow, starting from lavender to deep violet, makes the green and the small flecks of yellow around my pupils in the base of my grey eyes stand out. I carefully push my newly long hair behind my ear and pick up the dress.
Arianna ordered it before sharing her plan of making an intro for our YouTube videos, mostly to celebrate hitting ten thousand subscribers.
As I unzip the cover, the brand catches my notice. She has a strange habit of purchasing extravagant stuff for onetime usages.
I smile to myself and shake my head.
Staring at the wonderful black dress drives me to consider the importance of money in everyone's life.
There will be thousands never knowing what it's like to walk into a shop and buy whatever they please without checking the price tags. Let alone shopping from brands such as Burberry or Prada. And the sad truth is, rich people keep getting richer, the path is always easier for them. The average and below hardly ever reach the top.
Money fixes anything and promises a bright future to even the most unqualified individuals. Perfect school leads to a perfect college and therefore lands a perfect job.
I wonder if Theodor and I didn't attend that school, would we still have been able to make it to first ranked universities? Am I who I am today only because of my parents' wealth?
An unfair sorting from the beginning of life. Nobody chooses to be born poor. It's deplorable thinking there must be hundreds who have the potential to do wonders but can't because they're financially unstable.
What if Mom and Dad are right, and I still do not understand or value living comfortably? Maybe chasing after things that don't ensure significant salary was wrong.
Maybe gazing at the stars and dreaming was a mistake. Perhaps hoping to decipher their patterns was never meant for me. How stupid and impractical of me. Emotions lead to pain.
At least, I know I couldn't have planned to travel the world for an entire year while staying in luxury five-star hotels and buying whatever the hell I wanted.
I sigh and push aside the thoughts.
I take off my robe and wear the black dress made of chiffon, lace, and silk.
After minutes of struggling with closing the zipper, I put on the necklace and stumble of the bathroom. With the ridiculously high, needle-like heels, I trudge out of the room with unsteady steps.
I hold the dress up along the bag containing my keycard and phone with one hand. And using the other to keep from falling. I manage to get myself to Arianna's suite without breaking a bone. I knock, only to remember I have her spare keycard.
With a shake of my head, I search my handbag for the key.
The door flies open. My eyes meet Adrien's widened ones.
I offer him a small smile. It takes him a few seconds to turn the corners of his gaping mouth upwards.
"There you are!" Arianna pops out from the corner of the wall. "Adi, help her, I doubt she can walk in those heels." And disappears.
As if finally snapped back to reality. He nods with hesitance, clearing his throat and avoiding to look at me. He offers his hand to me.
Without a second thought, I accept it and with his support, I walk farther in. Glancing at him, I notice his cheeks have turned bright red.
"Damn!" Dylan's voice draws my gaze to him as he stares at me with wide eyes.
"I will not let you chop off your hair anymore," Arianna jokes as she walks to me with a grin. She locks my arm with her own and guides me to a chair. "Quit staring and do your work," she snaps at Dylan and then shoots a pointed glare in Adrien's way.
The following hour gets spent by her ordering the guys to focus and telling me what I need to do.
Adrien keeps watching me the whole time, only looking away when I catch him or after Arianna's countless scoldings.
I wonder if it's because he thinks I might not be able to do the task on my behalf. There aren't any other practical reasons for it.
But Dylan justifies his goggling by claiming he's not used to seeing me with long hair and makeup, and with no glasses on.
The French music Arianna plays on her phone helps me stay distracted and ignore all the nerve wrecking sense of being the center of attention of three people at the same time.
✈︎ ✈︎ ✈︎
Day 65
I bring my knees closer to my chest as I adjust my book and sitting position again.
Fresh paint's scent has filled the air. The soft piano being played from Adrien's phone, and the view of Eiffel tower gives a weird sense of nostalgia for a memory I don't have. As if I'm in an artistic French movie.
After Adrien and I finished editing and preparing yet another video for the channel, including the intro Arianna was so excited for. I was leaving when he asked me with flushed cheeks that if I have any plans. If not, would I spend the remaining hours of the night in his suite. And for a more convincing deal, he rambled that we could each do our separate things.
It would've been awkward if I had refused. But now with a novel on my lap and his back facing me, I can't find the main reason I wanted to decline his offer. It's pleasant being here with him, even though we're busy with our own hobbies. I feel less lonely.
I'm starting to enjoy his company. It's fascinating how in a matter of lesser than two months, Adrien has shifted from being the guy who bullied me for over eight years to a guy that I can somewhat count as a friend.
And being with him in the same room doesn't make my palms clammy, my fingers fidgeting and heart-pounding out of anxiety the way it did before.
Time, by true means, does wonders.
I sigh and close the book, deciding to give a rest to my eyes.
A cup of coffee would be nice, if only I knew how to use a coffee machine.
I watch Adrien as he carefully moves his brush across the canvas, drawing the exact outlook visible from the window on his side. The lights, the buildings and Eiffel tower. I wonder how he managed to show the clouds in the dark sky.
"Done with the book already?" He asks, surprising me as he angles himself in my direction.
"No," I smile at him and he returns it, before returning to his artwork.
A comfortable silence takes a hold of us, the melody playing from his phone is the only source of sound.
After a long moment, he turns to me, removing his glasses and placing them on the nearby desk. "Wanna try?" he suggests with a wide grin as he holds out the brush for me.
I shake my head. "No! Absolutely not!" I hug my book.
Amusement lights up his eyes and he steps to me, "Why not?"
I glower at him, and he chuckles. Because he exactly knows why. I almost failed every art related class we had since elementary till graduation. Stick figures are the most advanced form I can draw.
"C'mon," he stretches his arm towards me, eyes twinkling. "You're telling me, a girl who loves challenges, has been the topper her entire life, can't even hold a paintbrush,"
I cross my arms and look away, glaring. He chortles and stands in front of me. After his laughter dies out, beaming he says, "It isn't that hard,"
"You know I can't-" I start, but he interrupts me.
"About time to change that. Eleanor, seriously, it's shameful to be a genius in maths and physics but cheat to pass your art classes,"
I point my index finger at him. "I did not cheat!"
He tilts his head to the side, with an arched eyebrow he gives a pointed stare and I roll my eyes.
"That was not cheating!" I defend and his smile grows.
Okay, yes, maybe it was, but I will not admit that!
Our school strove to prove all the students are multidimensional and excel in more than academics. And painting was one of them, but drawing was not my strong point, until halfway through middle school we could finally go our different paths. I obviously chose the instruments I already played.
He grabs my finger that is pointing at him. "You want to learn, otherwise why were you staring?"
"No, I do not. And I wasn't. I was just looking at it, because it was nice," I state and try to wiggle out of his grasp.
He raises his eyebrows with a lopsided smile. "Don't you want to give it a shot, though? To make one yourself?"
"Honestly? No," I shake my head and he laughs again.
He places the brush behind his ear, and leans forward, picking my book from my lap with his now free hand. I glare at him as he offers a cheeky grin and sets the novel on the coffee table.
"Eleanor, you're being painfully partial," he complains as he takes in my other palm in his.
I open my mouth to object, but then realize that somehow he is right. I've done whatever Arianna has asked me to do so far. Or even Dylan. Including helping him for the audios of our videos so he can have his usual one-night stands and always give him all the booze in my room's refrigerator.
I know better than to continue with this discussion, he won't drop it. I turn and stand. A wide smile breaks on his face.
For a second too long, his gaze remains on me before releasing me and we walk to the canvas.
"I'll ruin it," I tell him.
He replies while dipping the tip of the brush in dark blue paint, "Impossible," and holds the brush out for me.
I sigh and take it from him, and stare between the brush and canvas with a blank mind.
"You're holding it wrong," he informs me, and I'm tempted to rub it on his face.
Placing himself next to me, he adjusts it between my fingers and then offers an encouraging smile.
"I-" I begin, glancing up at him with desperation, but something in his green-blue eyes makes me pause. Unsure, I hold the brush an inch above the white side of the canvas. As much as I'm all about trying different things, this wasn't part of the plan. Yesterday's Pastry Tour of Le Marais was. Which I might add, was one of the parts I'd been excited for from Geneva when we planed everything, and it did not disappoint.
I peer at him, and he nods, the corners of his mouth turned up.
With a deep breath, I gather my courage and attempt to copy what I've seen him do multiple times.
"You need to relax and loosen your grip," he adds with a satisfied smile.
I stop and turn to glare at him. With a toothy smile, Adrien places himself behind me. His hand envelopes mine, and rests his other palm on my other shoulder. In slow movements, he guides me. With each passing second, the task seems easier.
I ignore the scent of paint mixing with his cologne and our closeness.
I wonder if we're crossing the friendship borderline. But I can't seem to be able to focus on the motion of my hand and the thoughts at the same time. So I chose to forget the thoughts, for now at least.
"See? You aren't ruining it, you're doing great," he praises and I glance at him.
"Yeah, sure, you should definitely start learning from me," I tell him with a fake serious expression, making him shake with laughter.
His eyes lock with me. His chuckling subsides, leaving a ghost of it on his features. Adam's apple bobbing, he squeezes my shoulder in the most gentle way possible.
For a moment his lips stay parted before he speaks in a low voice, "Thank you for giving me a chance,"
His words render me speechless, the emotions swarming in his eyes too much and too new for me to comprehend or make something out of it.
I try to look away, hoping to come up with an answer, but the intensity of his gaze acts like a black hole pulling me into its core.
My heart races, but I doubt it's out of anxiety.
Adrien lets go of my fist as he pulls me closer to himself, his grip tightening. He slides the brush out of my fingers, dropping it, and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. My breath hitches.
His face nears me, eyes linger on my lips before fixing back on my eyes.
"Eleanor," he murmurs, his fingertips rest on my cheek in a feather-light touch. "I-" he starts after a long pause but gets interrupted with his phone going off.
Not a beat later my phone rings too snapping me to reality, I break away from him, blinking a few times. Adrien turns around to retrieve his cellphone as I put more distance between us and pick my iPhone from the coffee table.
With deep breaths, I try to calm my drumming heart before I receive. My eyes widen as it lands on Arianna. Without a second of hesitation, I accept the call.
"Hi," I start, unsure.
"Hey girl, thought you wouldn't answer,"
"Yes, Dad, I did that... because I wanted to. Those were my shares," Adrien's sharp voice cuts through the air. I glance with narrowed eyes as he opens the glass door to his balcony and steps out. Even from here, it's visible as he reaches the railing, his free hand grips it tight enough to turn his knuckles white.
"So..." Arianna draws my attention to her. Not wanting to be face to face with Adrien if he turns, I spin.
"Is something wrong?" I ask with concern.
"No," she replies in a pitch tone.
I squint with suspicion as I chew my bottom lip. Something is definitely wrong.
I hear her sigh, "Okay, so... can we change the plans?"
"Why? Did something happen?" I question, trying not to sound worried.
"Um... let me just tell you. Dylan and I were in the club. Then a few minutes ago the gang called, saying they want to meet up. I told them we're not staying in Paris for long but they weren't buying it. And then there is Dylan who can't stop not fucking Amanda. Anyway, I said we'll be in Amboise when they get here, but they kept insisting to return to Paris so we can see each other again and..." her voice trails down.
"And you agreed and now we have to come back and stay for an entire day," I complete for her and she sighs yes. "We don't have any rooms booked for that time and-" I begin, as I push my glasses up my nose, but she interrupts me.
"That's why I called you. Please plan something, and don't worry about the hotel reservations, tell Adi what happened and to inform his dad's assistant. He can do wonders." she rambles and after a moment asks quietly, "but Ellie, are you okay with it? I can convince Dylan not to meet them. You know I'm not that much into seeing them,"
Of course, I don't want to spend my last day in France, especially in Paris with them, but they are friends with them. It wouldn't be fair to keep them from their friends. "Yes, Arianna, I'm fine with it," I reassure her as best as I can.
"You're the best El," she squeals and I smile, shaking my head.
I hope I don't end up regretting it.
+++
(( =))))) So, what do you think about the 'moment' El and Adi had? =))
Also, what are your thoughts on meeting the gang again? =)
Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading =) Lots of love <333
Next update: Wednesday))