Chapter 2 - Petite Elizabeth

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My mind wouldn't wrap around the fact that he had been in something I liked, loved even. He was talented which made it even harder for me to believe that Father worked with him.
For the next couple days of the realisation, I found myself studying him from afar, in his garden from mine. He was either sunbathing, flaunting his body or reading. It was like seeing your favourite character in person, all seeming like a dream I was about to wake up from. There was a moment I was glad to not have friends so I wouldn't let my mouth run and it to be the gossip of the school if people knew who I was.

The sun sparkled down on him as if it too knew he was a star, millions admiring him, his talent and his beauty.
I pressed my headphones into my head, making the music even louder so it felt like a movie, a movie I didn't belong in. He seemed to be chiselled by the Greeks Gods, the jawline being his main feature, his torso only a small minority. Jealously wrapped around my corrupted head because how could one look as good as he did? He was your fairytale prince everyone dreamed of being or being with. Neither occurred for me, not wanting to confuse his character for who he was. I planned to keep it as so until I went back to school, back to unfinished A-levels and a friendless existence.
"Elizabeth?" Father called rather loudly, disturbing Mr Saunders, his head wandering over to look at him at our back doors. "Could you go into town for leg of meat for tonight's dinner?" My eyes still focused on Saunders, his lip tugging up slightly as he watched Father. "You can get that book." I nodded, not wanting to cause attention to myself in any way shape or form.

I tugged on my shorts that laid on the table in front of me, covering the swimming costume I much rather preferred to the bikini Mother picked out.
I set off through the archway of flowers and leaves at the start of our garden. Dust from the path kicked up to my calf sticking to the suncream I laid over it 40 minutes ago, but it didn't care if I looked a mess, nor did I.
Someone ran behind me, I assumed Father to tell me to also add olives to the mental list. "Hey," his voice far more British than mine, Mr Podcast also known as Andrew, and Saunders.
I only turned my head a little, checking if I wasn't going absolutely crazy and it was Father wanting more olives. However, still to my surprise, Saunders was still the one saying "hey" but also still the one acting as the fictional character I had fallen in love with. "Can we go into town another day?" His eyes traced my face for an answer before quickly continuing, "it's just because I have a lot to catch up on. So can we?"
Again, that day felt full of silence as all I did was another nod. He shone his smile as if he knew it was a ticket to get through, as if that was my "yes". He wandered back up the small path I had just taken, the smile he once had shown had vanished, all traces of it ever being there, gone.

His hair bounced as he wandered back into my garden, gently brushing the edge of the archway and how I wanted to replay that moment forever.
I nodded to myself once again, letting my body spin back around to watch where I was going. My arms wrapped around each other as I wandered along, behind my head. My mind was on a repeat of Saunders, not being able to distract my mind even for a second before relating it back to him, every thought. I didn't want to admire him, I wanted to tolerate him.

"Ah, Elizabeth!" A quite friendly voice called, hardly meaning we were friends

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"Ah, Elizabeth!" A quite friendly voice called, hardly meaning we were friends.
Remy was peculiar, unique almost. He was a boy who knew how much her irritated me, and yet kept on doing so. I could never wrap my head around the fact that Mother and Father actually enjoyed his parents company. Yet again, I was surprised that they enjoyed something else other than; working, working, socialising with hardly anyone ever, working, loving me to bits, telling me how impressive I will be and did I mention working? It seemed as though that was their main focus of life. However, the two didn't do it as much as I had preferred, always trying to talk to me about me and how I was doing with friends. I'd rather not say, or even think about friends or anything related to the subject matter, loneliness seemed to be my comfort.
I smiled at him seeming as friendly as I could as he started again, "I haven't seen you in ages, what have you been doing this fine Summer?"

"Reading, mostly," Remy leans against the stack of strawberries. His treasures I always gravitated over to.

He smirked, "not worrying over nonsense yet? Or is that later on?" Remy loved to tease, especially me and my endless thoughts.

"I'm thinking it will be scheduled closer to when I have to leave," I pinched a strawberry, the biggest one that caught my eye.

He didn't seem to mind this time, mouth open slightly, "not staying for an extra month?" I shook my head, trying to contain the strawberries juices inside my mouth. "Someone important back home?" He questioned, looking at his fingers that fumbled with each other.

"No, no one." There wasn't a single soul that I was bothered about back in England, the land of rain and bad weather. Friends ceased to exist, any love connections had never been, it felt as so. "Is my sorrow your laughter, Remy?" I noticed him smirking to himself.

His eyes met mine, not leaving mine as he took the strawberry out of my fingers that I had just taken, "not in the slightest. It just leads me to believe that you're," he paused, "free." He bites the strawberry that was mine.
I didn't exactly know what he meant by this or if he was simply observing that I was alone, it all aspects when I was in England.
There were others in the small corner of town, the same corner me and Remy were in. All speaking French that I could hardly understand. "I'll be off, then." He takes the batches of strawberries in his hands, "au revoir petite Elizabeth."

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