The flashbacks

Hiding behind the door Watching Monsieur Fitz plays his Violin at the age of sixteen. I am fond of a grown man. I felt something for him, and he has this look, this look that I can't seem to understand. He's sure the worldwide handsome man.

"Ama, why are you peeping at young master playing the Violin?" I flinched in shock. His grandmother, Margret Fitz, questions from the door that's connected to Pierre's room.

She smiles. "Why standing at the door, go in!" She added. Suddenly, Pierre Fitz halts. He takes a turn then smiles at me. This made my heart melts.

"Girl, don't just stand there. Come in!" He smiles, making me, sixteen years old, idolize his smile.

I felt my cheeks flame in a quick blush. He nods again for me to come in. "Do you like Violin?" He asks me.

"Yes, and you play it very well!" I smile sheepishly at my young teenage foolishness.

"Wanna try?" He squirms his head to the side, making him look cuter.

"Can I ?" I glance through his eyes, searching for my lifespan with him.

"Of course, I can teach you now, or I can hire a professional violinist to come to teach you!" He suggested.

Hell no, who would want a mug when they already have a teacup? Nobody.

"No, No, No, you don't have to hire anyone. Please teach me." I twist the hem of my gown, looking down at my feet.

"Okay, then you have to hold it like this, then you have to position like this," he holds my arm, directing my every move. "Playing with a straight bow, you have to learn this note and lessons and basic playing scales like note reading, intonation, sound quality, correct position, and more." He continues guiding my every process.

This is making me blush too much. His warm palm was holding my shoulders. Too much... this is making me so slutty for a clean sixteen-year-old.

"Don't be shy, and you can play as you want. I'll get you a new violin for practicing every day for better improvement. You're so bright, Ama!"

Hearing his praises made me happy, but on the other hand, this made me sad because I wanted to know why his grandmother and his father Adopted me.

"Young master, can I know why your grandfather adopted a grown-up teen?" Right now, I know I sound stupid but ordinary. I saw him three months ago, under a tree, when I was crying. But now, I am here in this enormous mansion with a man that makes me bask in the glory of his accomplishments.

A frown replaces his straight face, making his moonlike eyes dark and pump-like go way back into a slimline. His French accents hit the back of my throat.

"Mlle Ama, Je pensais Vous dire de ne pas m'appeler Jeune maître? Ou Sir ?" His tongue rows to ever Frenchlike sentences. "Pierre! I told you three months ago to call me Pierre. You're making me look so old." He breathes out. "Compris ?" He questions.

I cringed. He has a habit that when he's angry, he can rap out all his French accents in a row. I sniffed. "Oui!" I nod. "Oui, Je comprends !"

"Bien." He smiles back at me after showing me the mad side of him again. "About that, your questions. I told them about a girl I saw crying under a tree that she lost both her dad and her mom. Hearing this, Dad was startled when I told him I wanted to adopt you, but his grandmother said I am too young to adopt a grown-up teen. She said I was not qualified to adopt. Why do you ask?" He looks bewildered at me.

"Oh, is that so?" I ask. "That's great. This is the reason why you didn't adopt me, right?" I boldly look at his elegant eyes.

"Oui!" he smiles, basking in the glory of my accomplishments.

"Then, will you always stay with me?" I foolishly ask a question that, as a mature grownup, I should not have asked. Damnation, I don't know if he notices ambiguous at me.

"Of course I will!" he hopefully replied well.

This made my heart skip so much. "Stay with me forever and ever," I added with a weirdish grin.

He giggles. "Is that what you wish, girl?" he asks.

"Oui!" I added.

-End of flashback-

"Woah, Ama, you perverted girl, you have wanted him since you're sixteen? At certain age to be shy, but you jokingly request for your desire?" Lou looks at me, giving me the -you're a slutty one look-

"You fool, stop saying rubbish," I yelled at him in humiliation.

He laughs so hard, stomping his Jordan on the ground and slapping his thigh. "Okay, okay, fine, I'll stop teasing you. Then, when did you realize that you've fallen for him?"

I felt my heartthrob in shape sweet stab of pain, with face down. "I- I'm not sure. But even if I'm in love with the keeper's son, I don't think he feels the same."

"Okay, let's talk about something else. Why don't you talk about the happy moments you had with him?" Lou tries to make me feel better.

"Happy moments..." I looked up and him.

"Yes!" he smiles back at my hideous face.

"Are you sure that you want to hear it? It's hell long, and I don't think that you can handle it all, " I grinned at Lou, who was looking at me in a perverted way.

"Common girl, spill it all out, the happy moments with your one and only Pierre Fitzgerald!"

"Okay, you ask for it!"

(flashback to eighteen years ago)

"Hello, Ama, it's me, Pierre. Sorry for calling you with the landline instead of your phone." he sounds so polite.

I nodded as if he was standing right in front of me. "It's okay. The head physician assigned more work to me, so I have to reschedule. I'll be leaving for three months." his voice frittered.

"Three months?" I yelled in shock. "But I thought it was just a week? I can't, Ah, what about me?" I wail. "Did you even know that Uncle and grandma are traveling? They mentioned going out for the family business with his elder brother."

"Ama, why don't you go with them to Burgundy?" he asks a question that I render stupid.

"I rather not. I don't even know the whole of your family, so that I will feel so awkward..." I ramble, about to cry.

"Oh, okay, let me think... I'll call you back!" he sounds confused.

"Okay!" I nod.

A few minutes later. The landline rings again. I hurriedly put it closer to my right ear. "Pierre?"

"Ama, a couple of days later, an uncle will be giving you a ticket and passport. Come and spend your summer holidays with me." he calmly speaks.

Hearing this, I jump up and down in amusement. "Of course, Pierre, I will be delighted to be your accomplice."

"Okay then!" he giggles and hangs up.

Pierre, I love you the most.

-

After a long flight of arriving at Madrid-Barajas Airport, also known as Adolfo Suárez Airport in Spain.

Alright, I'm in SPAIN. My eyes started wandering around, looking for my soon-to-be significant other. Abruptly, it docked on a well-recognized feature. "Pierre, Pierre..." I yelled with an accomplished smile on my face, waving at him like a kid.

He turns around. A relaxing expression shines on his face as I run off like a shot, leaving my luggage running to him and jumping on his body, giving him a very tight hug of life. "Pierre..." I was stabbed with his fragrance.

"Ama, you're finally here!" the trace of happiness was snipped in his France accent.

He was wearing a casual outfit: a black t-shirt, blue jeans, black converse, and his hair in a style kind of way. Even still hugging him, I noticed beautiful women looking lustrous at him.

Bitch, back off and stop stealing from my graze of accomplishment.

"Pierre..." I break off from the burger hug, looking excited at his pretty cute face.

"Pier-Pier, " someone voiced out with a trace mixture of frenchlike accent and a modern Castilian Spanish.

I turned around to grace into another accomplishment. Tall, tanned skin, brown hair, prestige jawline, hazel green eye. He was putting on a casual outfit, a blue t-shirt, white jeans, and white converse. He was looking so devilishly handsome, like a demigod with a twang and a toothpick.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a slut, but he's hell hot, but in a Casanova type of way. As for Pierre, he's hot, well built, and sexy but in a decent way.

"This is the cutie you're talking about? Chocolate flavor!" he clamored.

"C'mon, Hugo, back off from this one." Pierre rolls his eyes at him.

"Hola, Preciosa!" he stretches out his palm for a handshake. "I'm Hugo Leroy, Leroy - Leer-wah, meaning THE KING."

"Oh, Leroy, Hugo Leroy. Spanish mixed with French! I got it, " I smile.

He smiles, too, showing off his impressive and spotless teeth. " Sí, mamá es Castellanos, por qué papá es de París, Francia!"

"C'mon Hugo, cut the crap and speak fluent English, not Spanish. At least she is good at french too." Pierre looks frustrated at him.

"It's okay, Ama. He's my friend. We attended the same high school, and he's a soon-to-be neurosurgeon." He added.

Oh, such sexiness in the doctorate world! Parfait!

I smiled and grabbed his hand that was out for a handshake. "Hola, I am Ama Tamil!".

"Ama Tamil?" he questions with a smirk.

"Si," I giggled at my beginner's Spanish.

Few minutes, my luggage was in the booth, and he was the one driving. I sat at the passenger seat with Pierre in his car, A Bugatti Centodieci recent model.

"Is this your first time in Spain, Angel?" he asks, looking at me from the reflector, not minding Pierre.

"Yeah!" I smile back.

"Then you made the right choice. El paisaje de aquí es precioso." he grins.

I looked confused at him, not knowing what he had just said. Pierre rolls his eyes at him from the reflector, resting his head to the side. "Hugo, " he calls without emotion.

"Si?" Hugo answers with a smile.

"Just shut the hell up and drive!" he frowns.

"Si!" Hugo giggles.