January 31st. It was just another day in Nathaliaâs mind. A day of catching up on laundry, cleaning up the house and most importantly: Self-care day. A day where the model took the whole day to do whatever the hell she wanted. This particular day, it was the choice of face and hair masks amd a thirteen step skin care routine while soaking her roots in coconut and vanilla conditioner and soft oils. God, it was going to be so fucking good. âOui, oui. Je vais bien maman. Je vous promets.â Nathalia speaks into her cell with her mother on the other line. Charlotte Stewart had called her daughter as a weekly check-up and had caught Nathalia as she was tugging on a pair of dark washed jeans and slipping on a black, lacy bralette after taking a thirty minute, boiling hot shower. Wrapping her hair up in a fluffy, warm towel and continues her words with a sigh. âTu sais ce que je ressens pour mon anniversaire ⊠C'est juste un autre jour, maman.â Other than being just another day for Nathalia, today was, in fact, her birthday. Of course Charlotte wanted to know what her only child was going to do with her âbig dayâ. Before Nathalia could argue with her mother anymore, and honestly, sheâs not even sure why she tried, Nathalia heard knocking at the front door that caused her to still with confusion. âC'est bizarre. Quelqu'un vient de frapper Ă la porte ⊠Ce pourrait ĂȘtre le facteurâŠâ She says to both Charlotte and herself. Nathalia, once more, groans into the phone before pleaying with the woman to talk about anything else. Anything in the world! Charlotte could change the subject to hot dogs and monster trucks and it would be so much better than the lecture she was receiving about how special a birthday is.
Opening the door, Nathalia wasnât expecting to see a figure standing there. In fact, her eyes were downcast to the personâs shoes because she was still thinking someone had dropped off her mail. Then, when her own chestnut hues met his mischievous hazel orbs, Nathaliaâs mind goes into a stunned moment of silence. âOooh. Ce n'est pas le facteur. Ahhh, quelqu'un de mieux.â Wrong choice of words. After that, her mother becomes a little too excited to the point where Nathalia was sure Mars was able to hear Charlotteâs fast talking speech. âJe te rappelle, maman. - Non, maman - Maman ⊠Ok. Je raccroche maintenant. Au revoir. Au revoir maman ⊠Au revoir!â Fumbling with her phone, Nathalia desperately tries to hangup her phone call with her mother as quickly as possible before she was able to to yell anything else in french. Her eyes gaze upon the sunflower and a card in Marsâ possession and she canât help but think that she did not deserve any of this from Mars of all people⊠From the moment they parted sheâs thought about their last moments together. Their last hours, their last minutes before she left to go back to L.A and meet Declan for the first time.
Slowly, Nathaliaâs features melt from surprise into something a little more challenging. Alright, if she was going to enetertain the idea of celebrating her birthday, shouldnât it be Nathalia making the shots and not Mars? Albeit, his demanding side had always been a good look on him. Gently narrowed eyes, relaxed shoulders and lazily lifting an arm against the doorframe to lean on it, she asks in her own beguiling voice, â⊠What if I donât?â
A bashful grin made landing on his overworked features as he couldnât help but release his hazel hues to scan down the frame in front of him. Right brow elevating marginally. If there was ever a moment to challenge just how tenacious his restraint was, this â was the preeminent trial. The indelible attraction he harbored for the woman didnât vanish when she did. Instead, it was veiled away into the dusty & dank corners of his mental; as he recognized they would never meet âthat placeâ again. Or even come remotely close â for both of their sakes. But that still couldnât prevent him from wondering. Wanting. Wishing, even. And fuck was it goddamn annoying. How deeply pitiful to find yourself discretely yearning for someone who payed you no real mind to begin with?Â
âAh, heureux que tu me trouves mieux que le facteur,â was all he could manage to launch from the bonds of his lips, as he offered the woman both the card and sunflower from his grip. Hues casually â consciously â making their way back up towards hers. Subtlety had never been a strong suit of his. âGotta say though, mailman must love delivering for you.â His smile is impish; body resting upon the door frame that separated them. Surely it should have been Nathalia calling the shots today; her birthday, her rules. However, Mars couldnât help himself from taking on the burden of concocting a full day of venture for the two. Making it just one less thing for the woman to fret about. That â and heâd never really been good at giving up control. No matter the occasion.Â
Her inquiry was met with a cursory tilt of the head. Hues hyper-focused within hers. He knew exactly what he wanted to say. He knew all too fucking well. But they were friends; only friends; and it was imperative that he remained friendly. So instead, his friendly return was, âYouâre saying you donât want to spend the entire day with your good oleâ pal?â