Cannes | H.S

Lust

Layla

We were able to secure a table outside on the lively patio. Our detail oriented menus are placed as I search around, deciding to just order the seasonal new cocktail they're currently promoting. When I set my menu down, I have to practically pinch myself to prevent my knees from going weak. For the sight before me is one for the books. God he's so beautiful.

He's effortlessly handsome. A cool wind blows through his messy and combed curls as he reads through the many offerings carefully. The stubble around his mouth is ever growing, making him look a bit older than his actual age but in the best way. I try not to obsess over the possibility of what his mouth would feel like on my skin, especially with the hair around his pink heart shaped lips. His own skin is tan and bronzy from the sun, evident through his revealing shirt as other more tattoos are also seen inked on his chest and biceps. I don't even realize that I'm staring until the waiter arrives, practically causing me to jump in my seat out of fright. We both order the same thing, hoping to try something new as I fixate my attention on the ocean waves and breeze cooling me in the night.

"Did you have a busy day?" He asks, breaking the silence, his voice deep and smooth like butter.

"Yes, stuck in fittings. What about you?"

"Same here. My manager, Jeff, landed today. We grabbed some lunch, I wrote for a bit, talked to my mum."

"Your mother, is she doing okay?"

He smiles wholeheartedly, making it far too obvious that his relationship is much more evident and present than mine will sadly ever be. His entire face lights up at the mention of her, causing me to feel the same way at such a response. "She's good. Keeps herself busy with the garden, baking, and this evil new cat she just adopted."

"An evil cat?"

"Yes. It's a devilish little thing. I swear one of these days he's going to kill me."

"Why do you say that?" I ask, fighting a laugh.

"Because, he hisses and scratches me every time I try to fucking sit."

"You must have made it angry somehow."

"I did no such thing."

"Harry..."

He pauses momentarily, eventually admitting the truth with a shrug. "I may have locked it out of the house once."

"Harry!"

"What, I wanted to watch some telly on the sofa and the damn thing kept staring at me."

"Well, there you have it. What's his name?"

"Fred."

"Sounds fitting."

"My sister thought of it. Doesn't matter, I'll find a way to be rid of it soon."

"Harry, please. Leave the poor thing alone."

He chuckles. "I'm just kidding, relax there love."

I hum shyly at such a short nickname, hoping he can't tell of the obvious and burning flush that has found a way to creep on my face. I'm blushing because of him.

"What about you? Do you have any pets back at home?"

"No. It's not really practical with my busy schedule."

"I get that."

"I'm honestly, more of a dog person though."

" Smart woman!" He says boldly, causing a fit of carefree laughter to be shared in the air. "What kind?"