rosie | griezmann

15

Rosie lay on her stomach with her head facing Antoine, who propped himself up with his arms. She was admiring his toned stomach and his inked skin; she observed the tattoos, most of which were religious. 

"I didn't know you were Catholic," She stated, motioning to the huge Rosary on his forearm. 

"Yeah." He responded, blushing a little. "It's very important to me." 

"Can you say the Rosary?" 

"Of course." 

"In French?" 

"Uh-huh" 

Amused, Rosie placed her head on her elbow and smiled. "Say it." 

"The whole thing?" 

"Yes. Anything to hear you speak French."

"Well, I can say many more things in French than the Rosary." 

"I know." She spoke, with a small eye roll. "But if you said the Rosary, it would make me feel better. Like I'm pardoned of sin." 

"Well, Rosie, you aren't a sinner." 

"Sure I am." 

Antoine sighed and began to speak, slightly rolling his eyes. "Au nom du Père et—"

Rosie giggled. Antoine paused, raising an eyebrow at his girlfriend. "What's so funny?" 

"Nothing. I just get this tingly feeling in my body whenever you speak French, and it makes we want to smile. I don't know, it's stupid." 

Antoine felt his face burning. "No it's not."

"I feel like a schoolgirl in love." 

Antoine poked his tongue out. "You mean to tell me that you aren't one?" 

"Oh, hush." Antoine chuckled, tilting his head back and letting out a handsome, robust laughter. Rosie rolled her eyes. "Want to know my hidden talent?" 

"I feel like there are many." Antoine spoke, moving so that he lay facing her. "And I want to know about them all." 

"I can say it—the Rosary, I mean—in German and Spanish and English." 

"You can speak English?" Antoine's eyes widened in wonder. "No, I don't believe you." 

"Sì!" Rosie grinned. "I can say all sorts of things. I love you and how are you and what's your dog's name." 

Antoine drew in a breath of admiration before he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the German's, placing a hand on her bare waist. The kiss took Rosie by surprise—after all, she didn't think that listening to her speak English was in any way a turn on—but she was quick to adjust to the kiss, fervently moving her lips against his as she climbed on top of his body. 

Antoine let out a small groan at the feeling of Rosie's burning flesh pressed to his own as he placed his hands on the curvature of her back, quickly tracing his fingers along her waist until they messed around with the strings of her black bikini bottom. Rosie broke her lips away from his and grinned down at him, eyebrows risen. "In public, Antoine?" 

The Frenchman did nothing but allow a look of mischief to pleasurably taint his handsome features as he wrapped his arms around Rosie's waist and held her, softly. He sat up, her legs wrapping around his waist, and she sat facing him in his lap as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I love you so much," He finally spoke, his azure eyes bearing a look of nervousness along with enchantment. 

"Are you happy?" Rosie spoke, as he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She chuckled a little. He still had that habit—pushing her hair out of her eyes—which Rosie was forever thankful for; if it weren't for that awkward habit of his, there never would've been any awkward tension, and the two may have never discovered what they felt for one another. 

Antoine parted his lips and, mindlessly, he responded. "Define happy." 

"I could never define someone else's happiness. It's subjective." 

"Could you define yourself?" 

Rosie looked at the sky, then nodded and shrugged. "Certainly, because I'm not subjective." 

"Alright," Antoine licked his pearly white teeth before nodding. "Okay. Well, you are my happiness. As incredibly stupid and cheesy—"  

"Antoine, it doesn't sound stupid or cheesy." Rosie rolled her eyes slightly and placed her hands on top of his, which still lay on the sides of her hips. "It sounds like the truth—and it better be—because I feel the same way."