French Lover; Antoine Griezmann

Chapter Two

The airport was unusually quiet. Usually, there would be people swarming around but not today I guess. 

There were plasma screens of arrival and departure times on the wall of the airport. People were lined up at the check in desk with suitcases and baggage. There was a sculpture of a whale with water cascading from it's mouth and flowing down it's tail flukes. In the background soft classical music played. In the arrivals lounge there was a curious mixture of bored and excited people. Some looked like they were waiting for a bus, others like they were children waiting for Santa himself. Some lounged on the low comfy chairs and others bounced on their toes. The airport had been derelict since the uprising. The mall area had been looted a decade ago and the once automatic doors lay permanently open. People used to come here to sleep in the early days, snoozing on the uncomfortable chairs or lying on the floors like corpses. They assumed that the government would get control again soon and they could just wait in the airport to be fed. Meanwhile they surged into the food court and ate like locust until their bellies were full and the kitchen's empty. All that was left of them now was their detritus, the litter that blew like tumbleweed in the gusts from the open doors.

From the window of the plane the wing engine is semi illuminated, the lower half shining around the rim, the upper half several shades darker. As the plane dips the line between shadow and light moves, and all the while Olivia listens to the hum of the rotors.

It wasn't my first time on an airplane but every time I am, the scenery never fails to impress me.

Fragments of cloud scatter the ocean, as if painted by an artistic hand - delicate inflections of the brush spreading white over blue. As the morning light becomes more brilliant, clouds shine like nascent snow, stretching to the horizon. The clouds move constantly, flowing as sheets hundreds of feet apart, yet giving the appearance of one dense layer from the land below.

Where ocean meets sky a hazy pink band separates the delicate hues, as if mother nature were rebelling against the endless blue, adding the colour of blushed petals.

Sometimes dense cloud sits over the water like sky-bound icebergs as cracked and rigid as the Canadian mountains of only a few hours before. Other times the white is almost uniform and the blue shines through like rivers through snow.

Soon, the sky outside reflected darkness as nightfall came.

"Are we there yet?" the man beside me spoke.

He was asleep from the start of the flight until now, three hours later. Even when I've just stepped foot on the plane, he was already snuggling to find a comfortable spot. I never really looked at him as I was busy admiring the view from the window. Of course, having the window seat has its perks.

It has been at least four times where an air stewardess would come over to ask if 'my partner' wanted to eat. After a few times, I reckoned it would be easier to keep the food for him and avoid trying to explain that he was a total stranger.

"4 more hours to go buddy," I responded, not meeting his eye.

"Alright," he says, unbuckling his seat belt to go to the toilet.

I continued watching the movie I was totally focused on before I was interrupted, 'Twilight: Breaking Dawn'. It was definitely an old movie but it brought me back to the days of my teenage life, crushing hard on Edward Cullen.

"God, I'm starving," the man beside me said, pulling out one of my ear piece.

Rude.

"Hey!" I snapped before I turned to face him.

I'd describe him as a small sized man, with beautiful brown locks with a few gold here and there. A beautiful face. Well defined, with a sharp jaw and angular cheekbones. The complexion of his skin going well with his ocean-like eyes. He looked down for a moment, finding himself a drink and bringing the bottle of water to his lips. The burning sensation pouring down his throat, creating a warm feeling deep inside of his stomach. He had the kind of face that stopped you in your tracks. I guess he must get used to that, the sudden pause in a person's natural expression when they looked his way followed by overcompensating with a nonchalant gaze and a weak smile. Of course the blush that accompanied it was a dead give-away. It didn't help that he was so modest with it, it made the girls fall for him all the more. Despite all the opportunity that came his way he was a one-woman-man who prized genuineness and thoughtful conversation above lipstick and high-heels. He was handsome alright, but inside he was beautiful.

"Hello?" he snapped me out of my thoughts as he waved his hand before my face.

"Oh right, here," I responded, handing him the food I kept for him earlier.

"What are you, a witch?" he asks, opening the packet of food and started eating it hungrily.

"I decided to keep one for you while you were asleep," I replied.

He remained silent as he gobbled up his food.

"You're welcome. And also, it's not very nice to be calling someone a witch," I added before I continued with the movie.

4 hours later, our flight has reached the beautiful place. From a distance, the Eiffel tower caught my eyes. I gazed at it, not looking away. Indeed, it was my first time in this fine city, capital of France.

I noticed the man beside me looking out through the side of my window as well.

"Isn't it beautiful?" I asked.

"Neh, it's alright," he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"What do you mean alright? It's magical," I raised an eyebrow.

"I could've sworn you don't have an American accent but I'm guessing you're a foreigner?" he asks, feeding himself with nuts.

Man, he sure loves eating.

"I'm from England actually," I replied.

"Ah, British. Well, all I could tell you about this place is that it'll bore you sooner or later. What you see in the pictures from Google, it's pathetically photo shopped if I must say. This place is 'rank' if that's how you British say it," he commented.

"That's unnecessary and rude of you. Tell me, what do you know about this place? From my eyes, you just seem like an unhappy man who only comments on he negatives," I said, defending this country I knew not much about.

"I know too much," the man winked, pulling out a burgundy/maroon coloured passport.

Crap, he is a citizen!

I remained silent in embarrassment as I sensed him smiling at the fact that he have won this conversation. This conversation I was having with a complete stranger.

*Hello there! I hope you like the story up till' now. More chapters are coming soon so vote & leave a comment if you have any thoughts! Lots of love xoxo*