Foreign Feelings

Pierre's P.O.V.
Pear?

Seriously? Pear?

Pierre . . . Pear.

They don't even sound the same.

Okay, so maybe they do, just a little. But she nicknamed me after a fruit? And there I was, thinking she was slightly normal.

After watching Eva ascend the stairs, I decided to try out the party again. It had been raging for about 2 hours, and I doubted it was anywhere near ending.

Inside, the noise seemed to burst my eardrums because I was so used to the quiet of the hall.

I walked outside and into the small courtyard, smiling to myself as I stared out at the dark woods.

“Hey.”

I looked over to see Eva's sister -Amelia?- standing next to me with a tipsy expression on her face and an empty glass dangling from her hand. She smiled at me. “You're the French boy, aren't ya?” She said, slurring her words the slightest bit.

“Oui, that is moi. And you are?”

She pointed to herself. “The oldest daughter of Abraham Harper. The most favourable too, might I mention.”

I nodded appropriately. “You're name?”

“Oh. I am Emilie Rose Harper, daughter of Abraham Harper and the almighty Roseanne West, God rest her soul. Beloved sister of Evarah Lee Harper and Jaimey Theresa Harper, as well as Tristan Scott Harper.” She smiled at me proudly.

“That's a lot of Harper's.”

“And who are you? Besides being the hot French guy who is staying with us.”

“Je m'appelle Pierre-” Pear, I thought traitorously, “-Fournier, son of Jacques Fournier and Josephine Franco. Beloved older brother of Adele Fournier and Myrla Fournier.”

Emilie laughed, tipping her head back, her blonde hair falling from her shoulders. That action had my mind wandering back to Eva, and how much they looked the same.

The same pixie-like features; sharp chin with a small tuck in the middle, round grey eyes, full lips, pointed nose, and even eyebrows.

The only differences were the hair colours; black as night and golden like the sun, and the personalities. They even had the same body shapes; short, slim, and petite.

I shook my head to rid it off those thoughts, and concentrated again on Emilie. She smiled at me sweetly and ran her fingers through her hair, brushing it back off her face.

“So, Pierre, do you like my dress?”

I looked at her dress, red like blood. It was strapless and tight around her chest. At about her belly button it puffed out and ended just about her knees. For a dress, it was pretty. But I'm a guy, and I don't really care.

“Yeah, sure, it's pretty.” Eva's was prettier. Dark navy, complimenting her hair nicely, falling past her knees.-

“Pretty?! Just pretty?”

“Ah, yeah . . .” I said, having fallen back into my thoughts again. “It was very nice to meet you, Emilie Rose, but I must be gone now. Au revoir.” I kissed each of her cheeks before leaving her.



“Pierre, my boy!”

I stopped and turned. Ah, it was Abraham. Wow, he had the exact same grey eyes as his daughters.

“Yes, Monsieur?”

“Oh, Abe will be just fine.”

“Of course, Abe. What is it you wanted?”

“I just wanted to officially welcome you to our residence.” He held out his arms in a sweeping gesture. “Welcome!”

I smiled. “Merci beaucoup.”

“You know, son,” Abe began, putting a hand on my shoulder and weaving us around all of the guests. “Some of this party was in your honour.”

“Merci beaucoup,” I repeated, slightly overwhelmed. “But why, can I ask? Why go to all of this trouble for me?”

“Well, Pierre, have you met Evarah, yet?”

“Oui, oui. We have danced as well.”

“What did you think of her?”

“She is a very interesting young lady,” I said carefully.

“So you liked her?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Well, you see, I'm worried about Evarah. She's, well, she always seems to be in her sister's shadow. I was thinking that, if she had a certain romantic interest, she would come out of her shell a bit, and step out as herself. Do you realise what I am saying?”

I thought for a moment. “I think I do.”

“Would you help me with her?”

“I'm not sure. It does not really seem right to me.”

Abe's expression hardened. “If you do not, then maybe you do not have a place at this house after all.”

I stopped walking and stared at him. Looking into his hard grey eyes, I saw that he was very serious.

A place to stay? A very nice place to stay, at that. Not to mention spending some more time with Eva.

But, I don't know. It just didn't sound right.

On the other hand, if I couldn't stay here, I would have to go back to France, because no other house would take me.

Slowly, I nodded. “Okay.”

Abe patted my back, back to his friendly self again. “Rightio son. Your room is the second door on the right.” He led me to the stairs and pushed me up them. “Go unpack.”

I walked up the stairs, glad that I had managed to keep this position. But no matter how happy I thought I was, something inside me just kept whispering, this just doesn't seem right.