The French Girl

10

"Clay, Helmet. Your name does not belong on this list. But you need to be here if I'm going to tell you my story. If I'm going to explain why I did what I did. Because you aren't every other guy. You're different. You're good and kind and decent. And I didn't deserve to be with someone like you. I never would. I would have ruined you. It wasn't you. It was me." -Hannah Baker

BLAIR

I open my eyes to my dimly lit room, the morning light peeking through the curtains. I can't help but roll over to the other side of my bed. My arm lands on something, maybe its my pillow? No wait, pillows don't move. Or snore. I quickly sit up and looked over to my side.

"Peter?" I poke his cheek, waking him up. Well, it was stirring him more than waking him up. I poke his cheek again, this time it woke him up.

"Ow, what?" Peter finally sits up from his slumber and looks at me. I smile looking back at his flustered face. "We spent the night together?" I look under the sheets only to find my skin in its true nature and my clothes, along with Peter's, scattered on the floor. 

Peter nods, slightly moving the blanket to cover himself up as he fetches for his boxer briefs. I laugh, Peter throwing me his shirt. "Want pancakes? I'll cook for you and Snow." I put the shirt on and of course, some underwear and shorts. "Yeah, extra syrup please." I begin following Peter down to the kitchen. 

Snow meows at me, a simple greet she always does. I pet her fur, gently setting her on the couch. "Orange juice?" Peter asks me from behind the counter. "I'll make my coffee, Peter." I smile heading over to the counter top.

From the corner of my left eye, I could see Peter leaning on the table, smiling at something. "What?" I turn around, laughing. Peter shyly looks down, shaking his head. "Nothing."

"I've got to go, can I come over again tonight?" Peter holds the palms of my hands in his. I nod, "Call me if you're going to be." Peter smiles, walking over to me and kisses my forehead. Despite us being in the open for the world to see. But man, I do like forehead kisses. 

"Dear, I know you and Charlie have a thing but you just can't show up late to work." Helen hands me some brightly colored fabric. "Actually me and Charlie aren't a thing. It was just a one time thing." I say, placing the fabric on the table behind Helen. I sit in my usual seat, my sketch book feeling foreign to me. 

Helen sets her hands on my desk, right in front of my face. "Hon, I need you to get your shit together and get this company back on track. Because you know how girls are, they want clothes after the other." 

I nod. Girls don't even want clothes, so stereotypical. 

I sit there for another 2 hours, flipping through the pages looking back in my high school days back in London. Back to a time when I was inspired by the scenery, people, and the feelings I felt. Then I reached that page. The page where me and Jackson, once lived. 

My sketches were dresses, very pretty and very classic. I must say, I did like it. 

"Helen, these are your designs for this summer. What do you think?" I hand Helen the sketches I had drawn years ago. I just kept the ex thing from her.

Helen takes a minute to reply, her glasses tipping down to the tip of her nose. "It's amazing. As you always draw amazing creations, this is amazing. So whatever it is that's causing this, never let that go." Ironic.

"Blair, come on. I'll take you out." Charlie smiles, placing his arm over my shoulder. I smile, shaking my head. "I was planning on spending the day with Peter instead. Sorry, Charlie." He sits me down on a nearby bench, in front of a bakery with the smells of the pastries coming through my nose. 

Charlie clears his throat, his hands and mine in his lap. "Blair, do you like Peter? Cause you can just say so, me and you can stick to being friends. He really seems to like you, Blair. And I can't be that person that comes in and ruins something so perfect." 

I look down at our hands, intertwined. He's right, I couldn't imagine us being together in the future. Or us having kids and a future. I didn't see it. "Charlie, you're right. I can't see us being together. I really do like Peter. Charlie, I swear to you, you'll find a girl right for you. And if someone thinks they're too good for you, fuck them. You're one of the best guys I've ever met." 

Charlie smiles, letting go from our hands being together. 

"Thank you, Blair. You know, I always thought people from London were snobby. But you proved me wrong. I'm invited to the wedding right?" Charlie chuckles, standing up from the bench. I do as well, laughing as well.

"Slow your roll, we aren't even dating. It was just a dinner, nothing else." I explain to Charlie, him walking me down the street towards my place. 

"Shut up. Peter told me about the night you guys spent together. Was he good in bed?" Charlie begins bombarding me with questions.  I laugh, gently slapping Charlie. "You don't need to know anything."

Charlie smirks, winking at me. "Oh, so you guys will be that secretive couple. Not that I'm hating, but come on, I'm basically your best friend." 

"Oh as if!" I laugh, opening the door to the penthouse. "Bye, Charlie. Sorry to disappoint but me and Peter aren't dating."

"Not dating, yet."