For the past year, 18 year old Camille has been getting away with four hours of sleep, a nine hour school day and an eight hour work day overnight. That is until her three teachers and a mystery guy walk into her diner one night.
NOTE: THIS IS A 'W...
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Well, I could get used to this.
As soon as I walk into the apartment, Camille's flowery scent invades my nostrils, putting me instantly at ease after a day of annoying pupils acting out.
Français is a beautiful subject if they just take it seriously.
The elevator doors shut behind me and I walk towards the couch, stopping as soon as I see her.
Belle fille. ( Beautiful girl )
She's laid out on the couch, her legs curled slightly as she snuggles into the pillow she's grasping with both hands.
She sleeps with her hands tucked in, making me smile at her natural cuteness. Her brown hair is spread across the couch behind her head, showcasing the golden brown highlights that must be natural to her hair colour.
"Hey," she whispers, stretching out slightly. The sound of her voice pulls me out of my adoring gaze and I walk round to sit near her head.
She sits up slowly, blinking a few times as she wakes up fully. Her chocolate-covered doe eyes focus on me and a smile spreads across her face.
"Bonjour, mon cœur," I smile at her back, reaching to stroke a piece of hair away from her face. ( "Hello,My heart" )
"What time is it?" she yawns, stretching her arms out above her head.
"Almost 1pm," I answer as I look at my phone for the time before sliding it back into my pocket.
"Why are you back so early?" she asks me, a frown on her face.
Mon dieu, she's adorable when she's tired. ( My god. )
"Made Zander take my afternoon classes. He owes me a favour," I shrug, before standing up and heading to the kitchen. She follows me like a lost puppy, still wearing Luka's shirt.
She sits on one of the barstools, staring into space with a frown on her face.
She's spiralling.
I need to distract her.
"Are you hungry?" I ask her, making her eyes snap to mine. She smiles at me slightly but I know she's only doing it to try comfort me.
Knowing she probably wouldn't even be able to recognise if she was hungry right now, I head to the fridge and pull out ingredients for a grilled cheese. I quickly whip the sandwiches up as she continues staring into space, only coming out of her daydream when I place a plate in front of her.
"Try eat something, mon cœur," I encourage her before sitting in the bar stool adjacent to hers. She picks up a half of the grilled cheese, nibbling on it slightly. I watch as her eyes widen slightly at the taste of the French cheeses I used on her tongue.
