Jolie Nana - [Pierre Gasly]

Siete

Farah woke up with the urge to go to the restroom. She turned to her back, shielding her eyes from the light that wasn't blocked out by the curtains in front of the window. Right, Formentera, clubbing, the drinks, the party, the dancing... She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She had drank two more glasses of water and had taken an aspirin before going to sleep. She hadn't had that much to drink, but she knew it would still affect her sleeping cycle and her body the day after. She had slept around six hours, and she was awake now, she decided not to go back to bed when she was done in the bathroom. Farah had been lazy when they came back to the apartment last night. She had kicked her sneakers off and her clothes were messily thrown over the other side of the bed, her bra had fallen onto the floor. Sipping on another glass of water, she was desperate to hydrate her body after the alcohol, and then clean up her messy room. Farah doubted if anyone else in the house was awake already. Rebecca for sure wasn't, and Sean and Stoffel had come in around six in the morning. Their trip to find a burger had probably taken a couple side turns.

Perhaps Pierre was awake. Farah let out a breath, a smile forming on her lips as she replayed the scenes of last night in the club. It was clear that there was mutual attraction, and they both weren't sure about what move to make. She folded the skirt she had been wearing last night, brushing it off before placing it in the closet. Farah liked dancing with Pierre, she liked having his hands on her waist, on her hips. She loved the hug before they went to bed. It would have been so much easier to not get involved in any kind of bond with Pierre if he was an asshole. But he wasn't. He was far from an asshole. Next to him being incredibly handsome, he's very kind and caring, a good friend, intelligent and social. Farah sighed at herself. Just nine more days to survive without falling in love. She reminded herself that he was getting back to his racing career at the end of August. And there would be no way that they would keep contact while she was on the other side of the world. Farah shook it off and made her bed, she laid out some clothes she could wear later today, but she wanted a cup of coffee first.

Farah made her way downstairs, and was met with the quietness of the apartment. Everybody was still asleep. She made a cup of coffee for herself, and took a banana from the fruit bowl before moving outside. The sun was brightly shining, the breeze of the sea blowing into her face. She curled up on the sofa and enjoyed the couple of minutes for herself. Farah looked up when someone knocked on the glass door, and it was Pierre who leaned against the doorway. "Good morning," Pierre said, his voice a little raspy, his hair messy, body shirtless. Enough to catch her off guard after a night like yesterday's. "Hi," Farah replied with a smile, recovering quickly. "Can I join?" he asked. "Sure," she nodded. Pierre moved to sit down next to her, the sofa slightly sinking under his weight. "I wanted to go for a run, do want to come with me?" Pierre asked. "Is that even a question?" Farah answered, causing the corners of his mouth to move up. "What about the others?" Farah asked then. "I'll text Sean. I suppose they're going to the beach anyway," Pierre shrugged. He didn't seem to care a lot about it.

"I'll get ready then," Farah nodded and got up, taking her empty cup with her. Pierre agreed, and he followed her example. They both got dressed in proper running clothes and shoes, and Pierre had put a cap over his messy bed hair. He still hadn't bothered to put a shirt on. Farah put her hair in a ponytail and carried her phone in the case she could strap around her arm. They quietly closed the door behind them, which locked automatically. Pierre had the keys in his pockets. They started to run, making sure they kept a pace that was comfortable for them both. "Feeling hungover?" Pierre asked. "Not really hungover, just tired," Farah breathed. "Same," Pierre chuckled. "We're the only ones awake in the house, too," he added. "We didn't drink that much," Farah said. "Rebecca's going to be hungover," she laughed. "Poor Tom, having to take care of her," Pierre snickered. Farah looked over at him as they ran up the hill. The sun was illuminating his skin that was glistening with sweat. The cap backwards on him looked great. Yeah, she could get used to this.