Friends did friends favors, even when they didn’t know that these favors were being done. Maanon was doing this for Carrie, heading to the gym 30 minutes earlier than her usual preferred time. It was all to meet him. Distance kept Maanon from helping her friend during their...split? The logistics of he pair’s relationship had admittedly gone over the Parisian’s head, but what she did understand was that Carrie’s heart had ached for whoever this man was. As a friend -- her designated best friend -- Maanon had to vet all men interested in Carrie, even if it seemed as if that list was growing faster than she could keep up with. Blue hues immediately searched for the description she had to go off of. No pictures, no videos, just a few words tied together with “you’ll know him when y’see him, darlin’”. What Carrie didn’t understand was that Maanon had seen plenty of fine men in her day. Moving around the skirts of the gym, her eyes searched. Bald. Short. Smelly. No. No. No. It wasn’t until she noticed a wide build, strong, as if the weight the certified trainers lifted were his warm ups. Strategically readjusting the weights on the leg press, she peered around to see the front of him. Blue eyes. Brown hair. Fine. Carrie had that kind of game? “Mon amie,” she whispered, clicking her tongue in disbelief as she wasted no time walking over to the stranger. “Pardon,” she excused herself, refusing to harden her r and Americanize what few French words she could get away with. “Walker, n’est-ce pas?” Her blue eyes found his, only so he would have seen her brows raise toward the weights with a clearing of her throat as she expected his full attention.
