I Don't Want It, I Just Need It.

It was Thomas who found the adjoining door between Oliver and my room. It was Thomas who found me. Cross legged, in the middle of the enormous bed. Knocking back one of the tiny bottles of whisky from the mini bar. It was his brother that had made it so.

“Ye know those things cost like a million…” His words trailed and his brow furrowed as I drug my eyes from where they’d been fixed; on the postcard, balanced on my knee.

“Why did Oliver bring me here?”

He looked a little taken aback by my question, but continued on across the room. Perching at the foot of the bed and mirroring my cross legged position. I watched his eyes flicker over the postcard, caught the smile of recognition that flashed across his lips.

“Tom!”

He jumped a little, surprised by my stern outburst. But he remained silent all the same. Instead of answering, taking a moment or two to glance around the room. Nodding his head, clearly impressed. “Ye definitely hit the jackpot on the roo…”

“Thomas!”

“Verity!”

He watched intently as I shot back the remainder of the whisky and threw the bottle to the floor, before waving my arm carelessly in the direction of the mini bar.

“Get me anoth…”

“ ‘av ye even read it?” I froze to the spot. My eyes narrowing as he reached out, and snatched the card from where it had been resting. Flipping it over between his fingers and scanning the back. I resisted the urge to read his lips as he mouthed the message silently to himself.
“ ‘s the answer t’ye question” He sighed nonchalantly, chucking the card back toward me. Nodding as it landed picture down. “Why Oliver brought ye…”

I couldn’t bring myself to look down.

“Tom, I don’t believe for a second that…”

“If ye didn’ a’ways jump t’ conclusions ye’d save y’self a lot o’ bother” He interrupted, “Maybe if ye’d stop t’breathe, t’ think e’ery now an’ again, ye might…”

“Why did he bring me here Tom? After what I did, why did he bring me…”

“It says ‘appy birthday Vee” Thomas sighed, grabbing the card and waving it in my face. “ ‘s from the ‘otel Vee. Ol told ‘em it was ye birthday, an’ t’ make sure ye ‘ad something t’arrive to”

&&

My cheeks burnt with embarrassment the moment Oliver stepped into the room, even though I knew he was none the wiser. He knew nothing of my panic a few moments before, he had no idea that mere minutes before I’d been fretting over breaking his heart, again. He had no clue of the fear I’d felt at becoming my mother.

“I thought ye might wanna…” I smiled awkwardly as he eyed the empty bottle of whisky discarded on the floor. “Bit early ‘int…”

“The plane shook me up a little” I interrupted hurriedly, my tone a touch more defensive than planned. “It’s my birthday tomorrow Oliver, I think I’m allowed to…”

He shrugged his shoulders and flopped down onto the end of my bed. Filling the space his brother had left just moments before.

“Are ye hungry?” He asked, peering at me from the corner of his eye as I bustled around the room. I was yet to unpack, and after two hours this would surely do nothing but rouse suspicion. “ ‘m starvin’…but I can’ speak French f’ shit”

I chuckled softly and turned to my suitcase. Crouching to the floor and unzipping slowly, carefully, the phantom rip I’d heard earlier still haunting me. I breathed a sigh of relief as the zip passed easily between the tracks, and a smile spread across my lips as I pulled my case open. It wasn’t as big a crisis as I’d imagined, nothing a little ironing couldn’t fix.

“What I meant by tha’ was would ye come get food wi’ me?” He pressed on, “I don’ fancy shoutin’ at some poor Parisian an’ pointin’ like a mad man”

“How could I say no to such a charming invitation?” I smirked, smoothing out the creases of my chiffon camisole. “I was asking Thomas why you brought me here. He didn’t say it was to help you order your dinner”

“What did Tom say?”

His expression and tone were mismatched. His face remained placid whilst the abruptness of his tone caused his voice to waver a little. I stood still for a second, studying his furrowed brow, second guessing his reason for moving from his relaxed state to sitting bolt upright.

“My birthday Ol. He said you brought me here for my…”

“Of course ‘e did, of course s’fe ye birthday. ‘ow often does a girl turn twenty two, I mean ‘s a big day, ‘s a big…”

“Once” I mumbled, shuffling from foot to foot awkwardly as he rambled on; words spilling from his lips at a dozen per second. “A girls twenty two once”

I was a little amused, but it was outweighed tenfold by the uneasy feeling rising in my stomach. As I watched Oliver fidget.

“Is there something you want to tell me Oliver?”

“‘s there something ye wan’ t’ tell me, Verity?” He mimicked. Completely unaware of to what extent his words rung true.

I gulped down the lump in my throat, loudly, and turned away. Sifting through my bag for something to change into. Sifting, for siftings sake. Anything to keep from looking at Oliver, another to keep from spilling my guts entirely.

Or was this the perfect opportunity, was this my chance?

“Give me a minute to change and we’ll…” I rolled my eyes as a smirk tugged at the corners of Olivers lips and his eyes grew wide, eagerly. “You’ve seen it all before, I know, but that was a lifetime ago, so please…”

A frown twisted across his lips briefly, but he nodded and climbed slowly to his feet. Appearing to bide his time as he crossed the room. His mouth opened and closed a few times in quick succession, but he thought better of…

“might be a lifetime Vee, but I still remember every single inch of ye like it were a second ago”

&&

The intensity of the feeling as the cold seeped beneath my skin and deep into my bones, was second to that of Olivers eyes fixed on me. Paris, in March, was much like home. Spending time with Oliver, alone, was home.

He’d left me completely speechless in my room. So utterly dumbfounded that in the five minutes he’d given me to change, I’d not even managed to change my socks.
I expected my ripped leggings and oversized Aerosmith shirt were being frowned upon as we strolled down the river Seine, I had the perfect dress. But I couldn’t so much as tie my converse correctly in the moments after Oliver had spoken.

I still remember every single inch of ye like it were a second ago

Oliver groaned loudly as he took a bite of his Belgian waffle. Chocolate sauce dribbling from the corner of his mouth as he bobbed his head back and forth in delight.

“It’s good?” I giggled as he smacked his lips together and his head bobbing turned to an enthusiastic nod. “So good you can’t speak?”

He rolled his eyes and pulled the waffle reluctantly from between his lips, after trying; and failing, to speak around it. “D’ye want some?”

It was just a millimetre from my face before I could even answer. The sickly sweet smell of the chocolate syrup tickling my nostrils as my mouth watered hungrily. How could I resist?

“ ‘s good aint it?” He grinned proudly as I cupped my hand to my face, shielding my mouth as I chewed. And nodding as the obscenely sweet waffle slipped down my throat.

“It really is” I smiled, wiping away any excess with my sleeve. “It really i…”

“ ‘ll get ye one” He interrupted, jumping to his feet from the bench we’d been sitting on and thrusting his hand out to pull me up to join him.

I took it, hesitantly. My skin tingling as his fingers slipped between mine and my lips twitching into an awkward smile as he dragged me behind him, toward the waffle stand.
His hand held mine tightly, but his thumb was rubbing mine softly. The contrast was perfect. “Birthday presen’…first o’ many”

I expected him to drop my hand the moment we came to a clumsy stop before the waffle stand, but he didn’t. And I received more than just a raised eyebrow when I jerked my hand from his. I smiled apologetically; though apologising for what, I wasn’t exactly sure. And fixed my gaze downward, fiddling with the frayed hem of my shirt.

“ ‘ow d’ I ask again?” He asked, nudging me in my side. A dopey smile spreading across his lips as I glanced sideways at him and rolled my eyes. “j'aimerais le….belgian…?”

“It was five minutes ago Oliver. Five. And we spent twenty minutes trying before tha…”

He made a pft noise and waved his hand to silence me. Slinging his arm lazily around my shoulder and pulling me toward him. His lips just a breath from my ear, his breath hot on my neck. The boy knew how to make me shudder.

“Ye know the only French I know is voulez-vous coucher avec moi?” He whispered.

A nervous, embarrassing, giggle escaped my lips, and I could feel the blush creeping up my neck to my cheeks.I placed my hand flat to his chest, and pushed myself from him gently. Climbing to my tip toes and peering up into his eyes, trying desperately to ignore the glint dancing amongst the hazel- green , the smirk hiding in the corners of his perfect, pouted lips.

He knew exactly what I was going to say, and I, as with the waffle, couldn’t resist….“Ce soir?”