Quiet Little French Girl. [h.s.]

Clasped Hands; Damsel In Distress.

The reason for Odette's lack of communication yesterday was due to her phone being dead, which shockingly has never happened to her before in the time that we've known each other - apparently she calmed down a lot after talking to Ben at work, he was probably the best person she talked to about it considering he's the only one who knows why she left France in the first place.

I took my carry-on suitcase over to her apartment, we had decided that it would be easier to be in one place rather than two, not that I minded much; I've grown very fond of Odette's spare bedroom now, it's simple and plain, very easily mouldable if she wishes to decorate it.

Anyway, our flight to France leaves in twenty minutes and we've already gotten ourselves checked in, the airport is its usual everyday bustle; passengers dragging suitcases through the terminals, security their usual alert selves and the cafés striving with customers. It's a nice atmosphere, but I'd still rather be seated comfortably on the plane than having to wait any longer. We got here two hours ago and have had breakfast in a local café, the pancake board hung on the side wall is what drew us in - the image was similar to those adverts on the TV with drizzling maple syrup; it was so mouthwatering we couldn't resist.

Odette is a lot more excited today and I'm immensely glad. She has nothing to worry about, although how am I to know; I really hope I find out what's happened, or is that me being too intrusive? I just want to know, I feel like that's a large chunk that is missing from our relationship. I've hit a brick wall with her and no matter how many times I get told or I tell myself that she genuinely likes me, I always find a stronger reason that persuades me otherwise. My poor girl, my poor beautiful girl, what happened to you?

Her eyes sparkle at the empty plate in front of her, stomach halted from their previous grumbles and her face etched with a content smile. I'm guessing she enjoyed it then. "Come on, we'll be boarding soon." I take Odette's hand tightly in mine, our carry-ons trailing behind us as we walk through duty free and towards the boarding gate, queuing up patiently behind the earlier passengers. 'How are you feeling?' My eyes scan her frame and I'm reminded, yet again, just how lucky I am.

'It doesn't matter. I'm here with you, and that makes me as happy as I could ever be.' She signs back and I'm surprised by her somewhat cheesy comment, though I gladly embrace it. She blushes at her own words and my unexpected small kiss to the corner of her lips.

'How did I ever get so lucky?' My question is rhetorical and one that I've asked her plenty of times before. I kiss her again and we shuffle forward with the rest of the queue, finally boarding our plane.

•••

Soft tickles wake me from my slumber, Odette's head leaning on my shoulder and her hair brushing against my face as she peacefully sleeps; her eyes flutter occasionally as she dreams, lips parting only softly to release light breathing and within seconds her face nuzzles into the crook of my neck. I can smell her perfume and the overwhelming scent of her citrus shampoo, Odette's entire body relaxed and calm, it reminds me of the day we met and that familiar smile took over her face - she looked in her element, so natural, just like she does now.

A slight movement nudges my shoulder and she sits up straight in her chair, topaz eyes scanning around her before they land on me, finally understanding where she is and what she was doing; 'we're almost there Odette. You're almost back home.' She glances worriedly out of the oblong and circular window to see a vast array of picturesque clouds - all floating peaceful across the sky like weightless balloons. My beautiful neighbour grasps my hand tightly for reassurance and the pilot warns us of slight turbulence, I interpret to Odette so she isn't spooked when the rough shaking occurs; her hand never leaves mine, just holds tighter until she feels safe enough to loosen her grip.