Curry Munching with the French Boy

28

AN: CONSIDER THE NEXT 2 CHAPTERS AS THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM

I woke up with sunlight streaming in through the open window. I rolled over lazily, my body feeling oddly relaxed considering what Devin and I had done the previous day. I patted the bed next to me, but it was empty. I shot up immediately and looked around.

Devin was gone.

I dragged myself out of bed, limping as I walked. I could hear clattering from the front door and moved toward the noise.

Devin had his back to me and was attempting to try and open the door. He was dressed in a white vest paired with basketball shorts and sneakers. He had a bag slung over his shoulder and looked like he was going to the gym.

"Good morning, handsome." I interrupted his actions and he dropped his bag in surprise.

"Shit, I woke you up." He muttered under his breath.

"Where are you going?" I asked, more curiously than suspiciously.

"I was going to the gym. I didn't want to wake you up since you were so exhausted." He explained, grabbing his bag.

"And you were going to leave without telling me?" I pouted. I sauntered towards him, swaying my hips suggestively and Devin caught on. He grabbed my waist and pulled me against him. I slid my hands over his arms, feeling the firm muscles as I slung my arms around his neck "Pity you can't stay. I can give you quite the work out."

Devin chuckled and shook his head, "No, Lea, you need to rest a bit. I promise when I come back we can do whatever you want." He said stepping out into the hallway. I leant against the door frame and stared at him sadly.

"Fine. Come back quickly."

"I will, kitten. I'll be home around lunch time." He responded and placed a lingering kiss on my cheek before leaving. It was a sweet kiss, the kind I expected husbands gave their wives in the 50's before leaving to work each morning. I watched as he walked down the hall and disappeared into an elevator. With a final wave he left and I really did feel like a doting wife from the 50's seeing my husband off. It felt nice to think about Devin in that way and I wondered if he would feel the same too.

I happily made my way around the kitchen, throwing together a breakfast of toast and orange juice. I settled on Devin's bed, reading a book I found on one of his shelves. It was by some author I had never heard of before. The story was about a girl who had the ability to fly, but was scared of heights. Every day she would climb the stairs to the very top of her apartment building and try to look over the ledge without freaking out, and every night she bailed. One night there was a man on the rooftop. She watched him and found that this man could fly too. She stared in amazement as he dove off the edge of the building, only to come spiralling upwards in a blur of black feathered wings.

The girl longed to join him, but was too afraid. Every night she came to the rooftop and watched him from behind the safety of an air vent. One night though, when she was least expecting it, the boy swooped down and picked her up in his hands. She kicked and screamed, suddenly very afraid of the boy whom she had once been intrigued with. They flew over the city, her legs dangling from beneath her. She was enraptured with the beauty of city lights as the roads appeared like golden veins, pumping cars like blood through the night.