Page 59 of Blue Gold

“Who knew you were so cold and empty?” he muttered, and I sighed at his words when he clenched his fists and looked up. The look in his eyes, so full of hurt and vengeance, burned deep into my soul.

“Wait and see. I will be famous model, so everyone look at me.” He’d suddenly switched to English, which, for some reason, made him sound so much colder.

“Elliot—”

“And you, too, will look.” His expression closed up, making him seem like a muse, an untouchable muse, before he placed his hand against my cheek. “And you’ll hurt, like I do right now. You’ll hurt knowing that all eyes are on me and that you’ll never, ever have me again.” This last part of my ruling, he spoke in French, which, once again, sounded like poetry. Only now, this was no lullaby but a ballad for what he’d sentenced me to. My crime? Falling for him when I couldn’t afford it.

Then, without so much as wasting a breath and with his head held high, Elliot turned around and walked away, leaving me all alone to burn in the fire he set that first time he smiled my way on a rainy day.

PART TWO

Plat Principal

18

ELLIOT

“Bonjour, Madame Dubois,” I called, not slowing down my bicycle as I passed by the old lady.

“Where are you rushing to?” she asked, her Midi accent carrying through her voice like ringing bells.

“To buy some cheese,” I shouted over my shoulder, my bicycle already rolling down the hill leading from Madame Dubois’s house to the Bouviers’ family farm, where they had a small shop.

The August sun hung high in the bright blue sky, its rays covering the world like a blanket of golden silk. I admired the summer and its heat, especially because it meant swimming in the creek by the lavender fields. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath of the fresh air. Nothing smelled as good as summer, with the strong scent of blossom the wind carried. A honk made me open my eyes just as a small truck with its cargo filled with apricots passed me. Remembering to be careful so I wouldn’t crash my bicycle as I did last fall, I grabbed the handles harder and pedaled as fast as I could until I reached Bouvier’s shop.

Getting off my bicycle, I leaned it against the back of the shop, near the old shed. Ready to circle the place and go inside, I stopped to fix my hair and wipe some of the sweat away. After all, I wanted to look good when Jacq⁠—

“Hey!” I yelped, my lips curling into a big smile as I was grabbed from behind and pulled away from my bicycle. “Jacques, put me down!” I laughed for a moment before he bucked me against the wall, his taller form already shielding me from the world. It took him no more than a few seconds to start kissing me. Everywhere. And I fought hard to keep my voice down so we wouldn’t be caught.

“I’m all sweaty from cycling here,” I whined, trying to get him off me by slapping his thick arms. It didn’t help, and instead, the bastard just kissed me behind my ear, in the spot he knew was my weakness. Closing my eyes, I bit my bottom lip as heat rushed through me and butterflies filled my tummy, when he suddenly stopped and pulled back just a bit.

“Bonjour, mon chaton,” he said with a lopsided grin plastered on his full lips, the same grin that made me fall for Jacques Bouvier all those years ago.

“Mon chaton?” My kitten. “You’re the reason we’ll eventually be caught.” I slapped his chest.

Covering my hand with his, he held it closer to his heart. “Me? You’re the one who came here in the first place.” He pretended to pout, and I sighed.

“To buy Camembert,” I grunted and pushed away from him when he grabbed my waist and pulled me back into his arms.

“Stop being so cruel, mon chaton.” He planted a kiss on my neck. “And just admit you came to see me.” Another kiss. “Even better, tell me you love me.”

My heart fluttered at his words because they were true, and they had been true ever since we were kids. What could I say? Those thick brows and green eyes that shone whenever he smiled were my Achilles heel. An obsession that only bloomed stronger once we entered high school, and he grew much taller than me. Maybe it was from helping his dad on the farm all the time, but now, at eighteen, Jacques was as broad as his older brothers and as strong. The strongest guy in our village, with a heart of gold, who just so happened to love me, too.

“Jacques,” I said, watching his smile grow.

“Yes?”

“Can we go swimming?”

“So, as you were saying?”

Snapped out of my memory, I looked up at the report that sat in front of me. We’d been sitting here, on the set for a magazine cover, for the past fifteen minutes doing this interview that would also be featured in the article they were doing about me. A year ago, the idea of getting my own cover would have excited me, but now, after having had about a dozen, not as much.

“Oh, oui, of course.” I took a drag from my cigarette before tapping the tip in the ashtray and blowing out the smoke. “What made me come to America… Euh, the same as everyone else, how you say that?” I wiggled my hand in the air. “Euh… The American dream. Tu vois, everything can happen here. Oui?” I smiled warmly at the reporter, who seemed about my age.

Her lips curled up before she nodded and wrote something in her notebook. “Of course. And clearly, you’ve proved it right. I mean, in the past year, you’ve been on every major cover and catwalk. Not to mention, the top designers in the industry are practically fighting over you, so one could only admire your success story, Elliot.”

She talked way too fast for me to understand anything, but I nodded either way. After enough time here, I’d learned that nobody actually cared about what I thought, as long as I smiled and nodded. Nobody but… A bitter taste filled my mouth, and I quickly took another drag of my cigarette… And another one, and another, until I had to light up a new one. And in between smokes, I sipped my iced Americano. I couldn’t say the taste of coffee had grown on me, as it still tasted like shit, but it kept me up and going.