❝I am not someone, I am your nightmare.❞ -Phoebe Yardly
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I still can't believe we are on the plane flying to Paris. The destination is far away from us by 1421 km along with 2 hours and 27 minutes to reach but my mind is still stuck with the thought of why are we visiting.
I huff folding my arms and looking at Stephan throwing huge daggers at his back. "No use for them. Go and sleep we still have more than seventy minutes in our hands."
I mimic his statement lowly, "Seventh minutes in our hand."
The grey clouds are visible at night which gives me a sudden urge to touch them. Can I touch them ever?
"Yeah, in your dreams." I look down embarrassed at my loud mouth of mine. "Whatever," I grumble and stand up to walk toward the restroom.
∞
"I have a question for you." I look down as we walk out from the plane landing on the slope. Gosh, please my legs are alright.
"Ms. Holland?" I snap my neck to look at him only to disbalance myself making me fall on the metal plane.
"Ouch." I close my eyes not intending to witness my butt red, thankfully, a stronghold prevents the situation to happen. I open an eye only to clash against the grey ones.
He looks intensely. "Look where you go. Don't think that any people will carry you as a heavy sack of potatoes."
"What?"
"The words you heard." What's wrong with him?
"If you like me at least take the audacity to respect me." I pull myself away from his touch as if they burn me.
"Yeah like, sorry but nowadays I feel like the person whom I like is the biggest thorn in my life." I look at him squinting my eyes.
"What do you mean?" I fold my arms and look at him. Who is he to talk to me like that?
He rolls his eyes. "Nothing you need to bother. Dio sa perché mi piaci però."
(God knows why I like you though.)
Acting nonchalant at his translation I walk ahead but soon stop when someone clashes with me. "Look where you are going, man."
"Oh, sorry but what to do, Oliver." I stop my chase and turn back to look at him. He smirks.
