Mon Soleil

Sol.

Good, old, Monaco. You can never go wrong with spending your precious vacation here in this lovely country. The architecture, the sky, the yachts, and the luxury. I have long been wanting to go here, but my hectic modelling schedule does not allow me to do so. Bookings for various shows and shooting for brands while flying back and forth from different countries take a toll on you, which is why I'm here now thanks to my management who decided to let me take some time off, and my dad who has always been so supportive and just letting me do whatever I want. Thanks, dad.

I sighed as I opened the windows to the cab, taking in the air as I think of all the fun things I can possibly do here. I got excited thinking about how I would spend one month all by myself. I know no one around Monte Carlo, like- literally no one, so my survival instincts are currently heightened. I usually communicate well around people as it is part of the job, but sometimes, it does get a bit overwhelming. But what choice do I have? Unless I want to be eaten alive here or be caught doing something illegal while being unaware, I have to put on my best smile and search for comrades that will aid me throughout my hardships, if ever I do encounter one.

I smiled as the cab stopped at a building and I recognized that it will be the one I'm going to be staying at, as I have seen it in the photos my dad presented to me while boasting that he knows the owner of the said structure and he will remain complacent if I stay here. It has a nice and beautiful white exterior, something very common in the buildings around here. They all scream luxury and well, you know, expensive. But I'd say that it is money well-spent.

"Merci," I ever so sweetly thanked my cab driver. Whatever the heck that sounded? I really don't want to know. I probably made my voice too thin, and he didn't even hear it, which would actually be great since my French is kind of rusty now. I can understand it in a conversational level, and I am confident that I can keep up with the locals, but I am quite insecure about my accent. Or no one probably notices my accent anyway so I should just stop thinking about it. Way to go, Sol, c'est juste incroyable.

As he dropped off my bags and drove off, I picked them up and walked my way into the building. Upon closer look, it was huge but appeared to only have five floors in total. There were two girls wearing red shirts near the entrance who look fidgety and as if waiting for something or perhaps someone to go out. I scoot over and overhear a bit of their conversation in French as they continuously giggle over God knows what.

"Are you sure this is where he lives?"

"Yes, positive. I am telling you; he is going to walk out of that door any minute now."

Sounds like a stalker if I have ever heard of one. I slowly walked up to them with my bags in tow, the wheels of my carrier making a sound as they hit the ground. Both of their heads snap up to look at me, eyeing me from head to toe. I would've thought they recognized me while I was wearing sunnies and a black Puma cap, but the roll of their eyes tells me they don't, and that eyeroll definitely meant piss off. The taller one of them kept eyeing me suspiciously, taking note of the way I stood way taller before her. The other one was still keeping an eye out on the door, possibly still waiting for the he they were referring to in their little talk I overheard.

"You are? Who?" The French accent ringing to my ears as I quickly composed myself and gave her a smile, "I live here, and, uh, you two look like you were waiting for someone so I gotta go-," their bulging eyes meant they thought of something as I said that, should I be concerned now? "You live here? In this building?" She asks again, making sure they hear it for a second time. "Um, yes? Why is that-," each one of them grabbed both of my arms and smiled up to me, the very same smile I gave my cab driver earlier. I also smile like that when I ask my friends for a favor and I know they cannot say no.