rosie | griezmann

18

Rosie woke up before Antoine the next morning and could tell just by the way he slept, his eyebrows slightly furrowed while his lips were parted, that he'd fallen asleep unhappy.

She felt a sense of guilt wash through her. It had to have been her fault and she knew it—as conceited as it sounded, she knew that no one or nothing could have such an affect on the Frenchman as much as herself.

Sighing, Rosie slipped out of the bed and kissed Antoine's cheek before she went downstairs to the kitchen. There she was greeted with a surprising sight; a shirtless Olivier Giroid was fixing himself a hangover omelet and Rosie froze when he turned around and spotted her. "Bonjour, Rosie."

"Guten tag."

"German, is that?"

Rosie nodded. "I, um..." she tucked her hair behind her forehead and blushed before motioning to the window. "I thought you were staying next door."

Olivier ran his eyes down her body, covered by a thin slip, before his eyes found hers and he sighed. "Yeah, but you know...I think I might've had a little too much to drink last night. I ended up passing out on the couch."

Rosie didn't respond, and Olivier's eyes didn't leave her body. Instead of speaking she smiled and threw her curly hair into a ponytail before she made a smoothie and waited for Olivier to finish making his omelet so that she could make one herself before she went back upstairs, holding the plate in one hand while in the other she held the smoothie.

She entered their bedroom to see that Antoine was now awake, staring at the ceiling as he lay in silence. "Buenos dias, amor." Rosie moved to his bedside and sat what she'd made on the nightstand. "I made you something for your headache."

Antoine sat up and placed a hand on his forehead. "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to."

Antoine's eyes watched Rosie's. "I'm sorry about last night."

"It's okay." She placed her hands on his shoulders before sitting on his lap, straddling his waist with two of her bent legs. Antoine blushed, as though Rosie wasn't his girlfriend and this kind of intimate positioning was unusual. "How did you sleep?"

Antoine placed his hands on Rosie's hips and squeezed them, leaving her to jump out of surprise and then tilt her head back in slight laughter. Antoine kissed her neck, exposed, and spoke. "Okay."

Rosie sighed and motioned to the door. "Olivier is still downstairs. Apparently he spent the night..."

Antoine's eyebrows immediately knitted as he heard Rosie mention Olivier's name. "You saw him?"

"Yeah, while I was making you breakfast." Rosie tilted her head. "Why, is something wrong?"

Antoine's blue eyes scanned her body before they landed on her caramel colored eyes. "Were you wearing this?" He inquired, fingering the thin strap of Rosie's slip before pushing it off her shoulder.

"Well...yes, but..." She blushed. "I didn't expect him to be there, Antoine."

Antoine sighed. "Rosie—"

"He's a married man. His wife is here."

"He's a married man who's cheated on his wife on several occasions. I just don't want him to get any ideas. All I'm saying is that I know Olivier."

Rosie frowned. "What makes you think that I would cheat on you?"

And they were back to square one. Antoine sighed. "Because I'm me, and Olivier is himself. Tall and...you know—" Antoine waved a hand. "—whatever it is women like in men."

Rosie tucked her hair behind her ear and stared at Antoine for a few moments, causing him to grow self conscious under her gaze. "You're right. You are you. And I love you." Rosie rose her eyebrows. "And besides, Olivier doesn't even compare to you in terms of looks. And I like your accent way better than his, and—"

She stopped as soon as the corners of Antoine's lips broke into a smile and he let slip a beautiful laugh. Then she stood up and stretched, as she could hear Jade and Angel talking in the other room which meant that the day—Christmas Eve—was about to begin; and it was sure to be a long one.

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a/n; I have total writers block when it
comes to this story so here's a terrible update but it's something