Foreign Feelings

Evarah's P.O.V.
“Good morning to all,” I mumbled as I dragged my feet into the kitchen. “What's for breakfast, Dire?”

“Belgium waffles,” the cook replied, smiling at me and wiping my face with a wet cloth. I turned my head away and wiped the water off.

“I've asked you repeatedly not to do that, Dee. Please don't.”

“I'm sorry, Eva. It's just that you had sleep under your eyes and, well, a drool mark on your face.” Dee smiled at me apologetically, while Emilie, who was shoving down waffles, laughed loudly.

I sat down at the table and sighed, rubbing tiredly at my eyes. “I'll take four. Topped with ice-cream and maple syrup please.”

As soon as Dee had turned to prepare the waffles (handmade of course. God forbid I eat anything less then perfect.), Pierre popped down beside me. I immediately tried to tame my hair by pushing it down and behind my ears while I yawned.

“Not a morning person?” he guessed.

I nodded and looked over at him. He of course, looked amazing, in a simply way. Jeans with white joggers, a black singlet with a red checked shirt over the top. Hair damp and hanging in his eyes.

“How long have you been up?” I asked, rubbing at my heavy eyes again.

“A couple of hours.”

“What the hell?! I just got up!”

Pierre laughed. “I can tell.”

I raised an eyebrow and he ruffled my hair. “Very messy.”

I swatted his arm. “Shut up, Pear. It's too early for you to be annoying me. There should be a law against it.”

“Too early? It's almost 9.”

“My point exactly.”

He rolled his eyes in exasperation. I was about to say something when a plate of waffles was set in front of me. I fingered the ice-cream, spreading it all across the waffles before taking a small bite.

“Do you always play with your food?”

I rolled my eyes and nodded. “Yes.” I glanced up and met Emilie's eyes across the table. I widened mine in a show of annoyance towards Pierre, and Em's lips twisted up in a smile. She pointed at Pierre and mouthed, “That the one?”

I shook my head so hard some of my hair fell in my food. I groaned and dropped the waffle, sucking on my hair.

That was when Dad walked in. He smiled at Em, shared a long look with Pierre, and then turned to me. “Eva, honey, I was wondering what you were doing today.”

I lifted a shoulder. “Nuthin.”

“Good, good. Does that mean you could show our boy Pierre around town today?” I stared at him. “For me?”

“Ugh, fine, whatever. I'll do it.” I looked over at Pierre, who was smiling kindly at me.

I smiled back at him, but dropped it as soon as his next words left his mouth. “That is, if you're going to be ready before it gets dark.”

“Oh hardy ha-ha.” I stood up. “Thank you Dee.” I returned to room where I made my bed, pulling the plain green doona up and tucking it. Then I went into my bathroom and made myself presentable.

When I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I gasped and covered my mouth with my hands. I had mascara-smudged eyes, deadly pale skin, and my hair was standing up all over the place. And Pierre saw me like this!

“Crap, crap, crap, crap,” I muttered as I splashed my face with water, trying to get rid of the awful black-eye effect the mascara was causing. How could I have let him see me like this? How could I have walked down those stairs this morning and not even bothered with my appearance?

Simple; I forgot he was here.

I ran a brush through the thick brown, shoulder length hair and fixed my fringe by ruffling it with my fingers. Mascara, eye-liner, lip gloss, and concealer for those stubborn pimples on my cheeks, and then I decided I was presentable.

I walked into my closet next and rummaged through the huge pile of clothes. God, I really did not need all of these. I could give half of them to charity and still own more then your average person. As I pulled out a pair of faded three quarter-length denim pants, I decided that, yeah, that was exactly what I was going to do. I was going to give my clothes to charity.

Today was quite warm, so I grabbed my purple bikini and a matching singlet, putting them on. Black thongs, wallet, sunglasses, camera, and I was ready to go.

Downstairs I met Dad and a smiling Pierre.

“Eva, Pierre will be driving, since you don't yet have your license.”

“But- Dad! It's my car!”

“Eva,” he warned.

I huffed. “Fine. Whatever.” I opened the door and walked to the car, unlocking it and throwing my keys on the driver's seat. I crossed my arms and looked inside to wear Pierre was talking to my dad. I groaned impatiently. “Hurry the hell up Pear!”



“Welcome . . . to The Big Banana!” I yelled, throwing my arms wide, spreading them towards the huge, yellow banana.

“That is one huge banana,” Pierre mumbled. “They're gonna want a picture of this.”

“They?” I asked curiously as I walked up the steps.

“My family.”

I looked back at him over my shoulder, pausing at the top of the steps. I smiled. “Tell me about them.”

He shrugged. “Not to much to tell.” But by the way his eyes were shining, I could tell there was. “We're just a normal family.”

“Oh God, you're so lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“Being normal. I doubt you have people recognising you everywhere you go. It's horrible.” I sighed. “I wish I could be normal.”

Pierre raised an eyebrow at me and joined me in leaning against the horrible green railing. “Normal is over-rated.”

“So is money.”

“Touché.”

“Well, tell me about your family.”

“I have two sisters. One younger; Myrla. And one older; Adele. Well, she's only older by about 7 minutes.” He sighed and ran his hand back through his hair, making it puff up like a duck's tail. “But God no, she won't let me forget it.”

I laughed and turned so that I was hanging off the rail. “What are they like?”

“Myrla's an amazing cook, even though she's barely a teenager. She's funny too, I think you'd like her.” He chuckled deeply, and his eyes seemed to unfocus as he thought about his family. “And Adele. She's, well, she's beautiful. Over-protective and annoying too, don't get me wrong, but she's a great friend to have.” He met my eyes then. “If you ever end up meeting her, don't let her grumpy façade get to you. She's cool.”

“Your parents, what about them?”

“Lovely, lovely people. I'm extremely lucky to have them.”

“You miss them,” I stated.

He looked away from my eyes and out at the busy highway. “Yeah, I do. This is the first time I've been out of the state without them.”

“Wow. That's a big deal. I can't imagine being so far away from my family.” I paused and titled my head to the side. “Well, besides the fact that Jaimey is all the way in France.” I sighed. “Well, come on, let's go check out the rest of this place.”