novacane | griezmann

19 // ANTOINE

"Well, all it ever takes for anyone to fall in love is a trip to Paris, don't you think?" Olivier had been teasing me ever since I got back about Elliott and I, leaving me to roll my eyes.

"Sure, Olivier."

"You are in love, aren't you?"

"I don't know, honestly." I responded, scratching my head. "When I'm with her I wonder how things came to be, what I've done to somehow win her and what she sees in me."

"I wonder the same thing." Olivier responded, with a snicker. "Especially because you were an ass in high school. Tell me, Antoine, is this why you picked on her? You must've known all along."

"Known what?"

"That you loved her." Olivier responded like it should've been obvious.

"No, certainly not." I responded, with a frown. "It's terrible, actually, and I think we both know it. I wish that I'd realized how much I love her in another form other than that of pausing in the middle of sex and realizing that I was tired of just sleeping with her, and that was because I wanted more."

Olivier did nothing but raise his eyebrows. "And you've corrupted her while at it, I bet. Remember how she joined that religious group at school and gave a passionate talk about abstinence?"

"Mon dieu, yes." I squeezed my eyes shut. "Oh, I feel terrible! I completely forgot about that, actually. What do you think happened to her faith?"

"I don't know. Perhaps she lost it," Olivier blurted. "And now she invests it all in you. Which is why you can't fuck up this time, not like what happened with Erika."

I frowned. "Erika. What does she have to do with this?"

"I'm just saying," Olivier muttered. "The last time you were in love, someone ended up dead."

"Well, why does everyone act like that was my fault? Erika was broken, she was damaged! Elliott is so much different—"

"Is she really that different, Antoine?" Olivier frowned. "After all that you've done to the poor girl, I don't know how she can't be broken, either. And had you actually invested your time in helping Erika, she wouldn't have gone mad. We all know that she ended her own life because she didn't think you truly loved her, Antoine."

"How could you blame me for her death?" I gasped and stood up, feeling myself ball my fists. I didn't want to get into a fight, especially not with Olivier; but he was practically accusing me of murder. "I didn't put a gun to her head and force her to do what she did."

Olivier didn't respond. Frankly, I didn't want to talk to him anymore. Erika died a year ago, and had there not been people like him to remind me of it, maybe I would've been able to move on easier. I opened the door to my room and froze as Elliott stared up at me, her brown eyes wide and shiny.

She was smiling. "Antoine."

"Elliott, what are you doing here?" I stepped out of the room and closed the door, staring down at her.

Her eyes grew wide out of worry. "Well, I just feel like we haven't talked in some time." Is all she responded, her lips trembling. "Why, did I do something?"

"No," I responded. "I'm just upset right now, that's all. Did you get the money I sent you?"

"Yes. But the bail was only five thousand euros, not ten. So here's a check for the extra five thousand that you gave me." She forced an envelope into my hands. "I get that you're probably a millionaire, but I don't really want your charity."

I didn't respond; just took the envelope and flung it behind me as we exited the house—today would be someone's lucky day, I thought. Elliott stopped walking and stared at me. "Are you out of your mind, Antoine? What the hell is wrong with you?"