Pierre tugged me downstairs, where the rest of his family was eating breakfast. I was just a little nervous to meet his family, I mean, I had slept in their house without them even knowing!

     "Come on Blonde! They'll love you. It's me I'm worried about." Pierre groaned.

     "I know, I know. I'm coming." I muttered. I was still dressed in my clothes from last night, but Pierre assured me it would be fine.

     Stepping out of his room and into the hallway, I got my first real look at the Renoux's house. It wasn't a large house, more stuffed and cozy. Pictures covered every available wall space. I cooed over Pierre's naked baby photos and laughed at ones of a fat, toddler Pierre, teetering around the very same house I now stood in. Needless to say, Pierre was bright red by the time we made it down the narrow staircase. The downstairs was very much like Pierre's own room. The dark blue walls were covered by bookshelves. There was a small kitchen stowed away in one corner of the house and a comfy table crammed in the other. It was like a Library turned Bed and Breakfast.

     "Bonjour Pierre! Où étiez-vous la nuit dernière?" A cheery French voice rang out through the small kitchen. A short, plump woman walked through the door. She had dark, curly hair and pale skin. I knew at once she was Mrs. Renoux, Pierre's mother.

     "Désolé maman! J'étais dehors." Pierre answered his mom sheepishly.

     Mrs. Renoux did a double take when she saw me, smiling wide.

     "Oh! Mon petit garçon a finalement ramené une fille à la maison!" She cried happily. Even though took French for 5 years, I had no idea what they were saying.

     "Maman! Non! She is American!" Pierre said, his face red.

     "Um, Hi!" I mentally cringed at my pathetic response.

     "Oh! Hello Dear! What's your name?" Mrs. Renoux said kindly, in the same accented English as Pierre.

     "I'm Olivia. Olivia Monelle." I put a bit more confidence in my words this time.

     A new voice rang through the house. "Monelle? Bientôt Renoux après que mon petit frère l'ait épousée!"

     A busty, dark-haired girl trotted down the stairs. The girl's outfit caught my eye first. She was wearing a bright blue beanie on her dark, curly hair. Black glasses framed her startling blue eyes, ringed by long, black lashes. Her pale skin had a perfect cupids-bow and she had glossy pink lips. Spikey, blue earrings dangled in balls from her ears. She had on a royal blue tank top showing a lot of cleavage, along with denim overalls with one strap off her shoulder. Finishung it off with black converse high-tops on her dainty feet.

     I didn't know what she said, but Pierre turned the color of a red delicious apple. He snapped something in French at her that sounded like: "Tais-toi Roselyn! C'est une copine."

     "Whatever you say, Baby Brother." The girl teased Pierre.

     "Olivia, this is Roselyn, my older sister. She's home from college right now." Pierre gestured to the girl, who busy giving Pierre bunny ears. Roselyn smiled at me before making a face at Pierre, causing me to giggle. Pierre sighed, waving his hands above his head, making both me and Roselyn break into a peal of laughter.

     "Oh, Rose! Leave your poor brother alone." Mrs. Renoux chided. Roselyn grabbed Pierre into a side hug.

     "Aye, Mama. I was just playing." Roselyn chuckled. I liked her already.

     "So, Olivia, join us for breakfast?" Mrs. Renoux asked.

     "Oh, if you'll have me," I replied, secretly delighted.

     "Of course! Anytime, Dear. Sit here, next to Pierre." Mrs. Renoux guided me to a seat at the four-person table. Though, it was only set for three people.

     "Roselyn, get a plate for Olivia." Mrs. Renoux called to her daughter.

     "Yes, Mama," Roselyn called from the kitchen. Mrs. Renoux walked into the dining room, carrying a plate of croissants, strawberries, and eggs. Roselyn set a plate down in front of me, and Breakfast began.

     "So Olivia, how did a pretty, American girl like you end up sleeping with my brother?" Roselyn asked me, grinning. Twin blushes arose on me and Pierre's cheeks.

     "Oh! We're just friends!" I say in a rush, blushing heavily. Roselyn winked at us from across the table.

     "Friends with benefits, huh." Roselyn poked Pierre, who was, again, a red delicious apple.

     "I'm just kidding!" She laughed. I managed a nervous squeaking noise that sounded like a depressed mouse getting hit by a chainsaw. Well then . . .

     "How did you end up in Paris, Dear?" Mrs. Renoux breaks the awkward silence. I mentally sigh, grateful to get away from the other topic.

     "Well, after I, um, left home, I went to Palermo for a couple of days. It was fun but I wanted to go to a place where I could speak the language-"

     "Not very well." Pierre teased, poking fun at when I first met him. I glared at him while he feigned innocence. I suppressed a smile, rolling my eyes.

     "Anyway, I came here, I decided to go to Versailles, and then I met Pierre." I smiled at Pierre, and he smiled back, blushing. I picked up a croissant, gracefully shoving it in my mouth. I groaned in pleasure. It was so good!

     "Yes, Mama makes the best croissants in her bakery. You should come by sometime, family discount." Roselyn grinned at me, wiggling her eyebrows at us.

     "Rose!" Mrs. Renoux scolded. "It would be free, of course, Dear." She patted my cheek. I smiled happily. There's nothing better than free food!

     "So Roselyn, what do you study?" I asked Pierre's bold, fun sister.

     "Oh, I study fashion in a design school." She said, proudly.

     "That's so cool!" I gushed. Having no artistic talent myself, made me appreciate the work of others.

     "Thank you! Speaking of clothes, do you need to borrow any?" She questioned.

     "That'd be great, actually." I gestured to my clothes from yesterday. "I never got a chance to change from the Louvre."

     "Follow me!" She beckoned me up the narrow staircase. I followed, not before stuffing another croissant in my mouth.

     Roselyn's room was painted an incredibly bright blue, like her hat and earrings. The walls were covered in band posters, and posters displaying different outfits. A large desk took up most of the space. It was overflowing with fabrics, scissors, measures, and patterns. Two mannequins stood in the corner, modeling half-finished clothing. Roselyn dragged me to her closet, which was almost as big as her small room. Her entire closet was color organized, rows of skirts, shirts, dresses, jackets, I even saw what looked like cosplay outfits. Full-length mirrors replaced all the walls.

     "Here, try this on! And this, this, and this'll look great on you!" Roselyn started throwing articles of clothing at me.

     I ended up with A pink mini-skirt, a blue romper, and a flowered boho top. I didn't mind though. I grew up as an only child, Rosalyn was like the sister I wish I had. Smiling cheesily, I began the try-on-a-thon.

***************************

     After ten minutes of aggressively trying on clothes, (Could you even try on clothes aggressively?!), we finally settled on an outfit.

     It was a short sleeved, red, white, and blue crop-top. (Rosalyn thought it brought me back to my American roots.) The outfit accentuated my curves, and I paired it with a pair of cut off white shorts that barely covered my bottom. It was super cute!

     "Thanks so much, Roselyn! I'll have them washed and brought back as soon as possible." I gushed.

     "Oh, you can totally keep them. After all, they may be ripped when I get them back." She grinned, making me blush profusely.

     "Now go back downstairs and show off for my baby brother!" She pushed me towards the stairs.

     As soon as Pierre saw me, his mouth fell open, and, being me, I started to blush. Curse my emotions. I felt my skin prickle as his chocolate eyes roamed over my body.

     "Aw, Dear, you look lovely!" Mrs. Renoux cooed, breaking Pierre from his trance.

      "Uh, yeah! You look, stunning." Pierre stuttered with pink cheeks.
  
       "So. . ." Mrs. Renoux gave a pointed look at her son.

      "Oh, yeah. Blonde! I have a surprise for you!" He exclaimed. He strides over to me, closing his hands gently over my eyes. "Trust me."

       I let Pierre guide me to what I assumed was his truck. I climbed in after promising him I would keep my eyes shut for the drive. Given that I never break my promises, I did. The drive to wherever we were going was short, only about ten minutes. I felt the truck pull to a stop. I groped along the wall for a handle, grasping it in my hand, ignoring Pierre's warning to wait for him. I attempted to gracefully hop out of the truck, succeeding in slamming my head into the roof, tripping, and falling out of the Ford, landing in a heap on the ground. I heard Pierre chuckling over me.

       "You better have kept your eyes shut, Blonde." I started giggling, while Pierre reached down, pulling me off the ground. He led me a little distance further, as I tripped over every stick and rock humanly possible. Finally, he uncovered my eyes. I gasped in awe.

       We were standing on the edge of a small cliff, only about twenty feet, with a steady waterfall pouring down. The water was crystal clear, letting me see into the pool at the base of the falls. Green grass covered the ground around it, apart from one spot. A small, blue blanket lay on the rocks, right above the waterfall. A basket was perched there. Pierre had set up a picnic lunch for us! I smiled in childish delight.

      "It's adorable!" I cooed. Pierre looked pleased with himself. It was only around ten in the morning, so I wasn't really hungry though. As if reading my mind, Pierre suddenly spoke up:

        "I know what we can do while we wait to eat." He said casually. I immediately turned pink, me and my dirty mind. All of a sudden, he, oh-so-casually pulled off his white shirt. I think I made some kind of alien mating call. His rock hard stomach gleamed in the morning sun. The lines accentuating his abbs traced downwards into a 'V' before disappearing below the waistband of his pants, and that which is unspoken.  Then, he reached down, tucking his thumbs in the waist of his shorts, before pulling those down too. Now he stood before me in only his black boxers. I gulped, turning red. He bent down, giving me a view of his sculpted back, stripping off his shoes and socks. I let out a small squeak as he started walking towards me. Then, he walked right past me, and jumped off the cliff, into the pool of water below. I breathe a sigh of relief and disappointment.

      "Come on Olivia!" His voice called up. I took a deep breath. Old Olivia would never have been this reckless. Old Olivia wouldn't even be here. But I was New Oliva, and the new Olivia did what she wanted. I took a running leap of the cliff.
 
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