LILY
As I slowly open my eyes, the sun's warm rays gently filter through the curtains, telling me another morning and another day has arrived. Before I stretch to sit up, I realise I'm alone. I reach over to where Loick slept last night and find it empty. And cold. Or rather, colder than my side.
Knowing where he is, I stretch languidly, savouring the soft sheets just for a few moments before pulling them off me. I push to stand, stretching my arms above my head to get my body into gear and begin to carefully pad around to the double doors.
With a contented sigh, I pull the right door open and am greeted by a rush of fresh, salty air. Even having seen what's in front of me a good few times now, the view still takes my breath away.
An expanse of turquoise ocean stretching all the way to the horizon, framed by palm trees and a clear blue sky stands in front of me. It's like a postcard.
I step out onto the sun-warmed tiles of the balcony, enjoying the heat as it rushes up my legs, warming me. The soft morning breeze tousles my hair gently. Closing the doors behind me, I head to the loungers knowing this is where Loick will be.
He's exactly where I expected him to be. Lounging, his legs stretched out in front of him and his phone in his hand.
"Good morning," I say, walking to the lounger beside him to join him.
"Good morning, Lil. You okay?" I nod yes and take my place on the lounger beside him. I stretch my legs out in front of me and cross my ankles, relaxing. Closing my eyes, I hear the distant crash of the waves below and the cheerful calls of the seabirds, welcoming the morning.
I can't help but smile. I feel... light. Light a feather for once. Like I could actually forget why I'm here.
"You look happy," Loick sighs. I can hear the content and... relief - I think - in his voice. I am happy. I feel different today. For whatever reason. And it's a welcome change.
I don't do anything other than keep my eyes closed and smile wider in response. It's all he needs to gather my response.
Being out here in the morning has become our usual routine. I've found him out here for the last few mornings. Enjoying the tranquillity of the early hours and early morning sun before the intense heat takes over.
Admittedly, I've enjoyed it too.
I thought too much quiet would cause havoc in my head. It has on the odd occasion and I've had to keep myself busy. And while I keep intending on doing that, this little escape, this little... something has helped. I've wandered in the lanes of my mind but haven't strayed too far.
I've not allowed myself. Because I'm enjoying myself.
"So, do you still want to go out today?" Loick asks.
Today's plans are different. While we've lounged around the pool for the majority of the days we've been here, today won't consist of that. As lovely as it is.
I wanted to do something different and take advantage of where we are. So, over drinks last night after dinner in the a la carte restaurant, I suggested going out to one of the places mentioned in the cursed welcome meeting.
I remembered how lovely and vibrant it sounded, so thankfully, it stuck in my head for all the right reasons. And not for all the reasons that caused me to leave and walk out.
Thinking it'd be nice to get out and about for a change, I suggested we go to a place called Place De Lices Provençal. It's a local market a few minutes away from the hotel. One that has good prices too, well according to the welcome meeting's presenter.
I love a good market. It sounded right up my street when I first heard about it. London has multiple markets on both the north and south bank of the Thames. I've frequented them as I've grown up for various reasons.
But there's nothing quite like a traditional European market. Especially when you're in the market's country too. And that's exactly what we've got to look forward to today. Immersing ourselves in French market culture. And I can't wait.
"Shall we get ready for breakfast?" I ask, eager to get going. Loick turns his attention to me, pulling it away from aimlessly scrolling on his phone.
"Yeah, let's get ready."
***
Walking out of the hotel's main entrance, Loick and I turn right and make our way to the path outside. As we exit, I let out a satisfied sigh. We're out. Like really out.
Breakfast was as lovely as always and had started on a deliciously fulfilling note. My stomach is pleasantly full and ready for the day out ahead.
Instead of my usual yoghurt, fruit and toast option, I decided on something more filling.
Today, I enjoyed a stack of fluffy pancakes drizzled in maple syrup and topped with crispy smoked bacon. It hit the spot perfectly. Even thinking about the meal.
Initially, we were going to get a taxi to the market but after both of us stuffed our faces, we decided on walking off at least some of our breakfasts. I checked with the receptionist and it's only a ten-minute walk from here. She provided me with simple instructions but reassured me the market is signposted too.
And we have all day, so we can take our time and enjoy ourselves.
As we cross the road once more, we round the last corner, following the direction of the signs. We turn the last corner and when I see we've arrived, I can't help but smile. It's not busy, but people are here already.
Despite it not being very busy yet, stepping into the market, my senses are completely overwhelmed. The cobblestone path we've now found ourselves on leads to a world of vibrant colours, enticing aromas and rhythmic chatter.
To my left, a flower stall bursts with a variety of blooms in every hue imaginable. Bouquets of lavender softly perfume the air, their purple stalks standing tall among cheerful sunflowers and delicate roses.
I watch intently as the florist, an elderly woman with skilful hands arranges her wares with ease.
Further along, my gaze is drawn to a fully stocked cheese stall. Wheels of different cheeses in various sizes are stacked high, their strong scents mingling in the air.
The two cheesemongers, both jolly men with curled moustaches slice the wheels and section out their blocks, offering passersby samples in small cubes.
My eyes are next grabbed by a rainbow of fresh fruits and vegetables. Plump, red tomatoes glisten next to crisp, fresh green lettuce and sweet peppers.
A young brunette boy, no older than ten helps arrange a pyramid of juicy peaches to the right of the stall's front. Their fuzzy skins blush in the bright, morning sun.
"This is amazing," I breathe, unsure where to look next.
"This trumps the markets in London, doesn't it?" Without hesitation, I nod yes in agreement to Loick's question. This is beyond any market I've been to before.
"Come on, let's go further in," he urges. I feel him place his hand on my back, the warmth radiating through me as my feet stumble forward on the cobbles, heading further into the market's depths.
As I weave through the soft crowd with Loick by my side, we pass a fishmonger, proudly displaying their latest catches on beds of ice. Silvery sardines, king prawns, plump oysters and impressive whole salmons and tunas catch my eye.
The briny scent of the sea, mixed with the pungent smell of the catches lingers in the air.
Meandering together, we come to a bread stall. Crusty baguettes lay freshly baked with various other loaves laid out for purchase. The warm, yeasty aroma of the fresh bakes wafts through the air. It tempts me to stop and admire the crusts and rustic sourdoughs on display.
"Try, please," the woman behind the stall gestures to a small tray, filled with pieces of bread broken off. I walk over to the stall and take a piece of sourdough.
The crust is a deep golden brown, dotted with flour, promising a satisfying crunch. Bringing it closer to my lips, I smell the fermentation's scent, hinting at the complexity of the bread I'm holding.
Taking a bite, feeling Loick watching me, my teeth sink through the crisp exterior and into the soft, chewy interior. The tangy flavour starts to dance on my taste buds. I'm in heaven. It's the perfect balance of sourness and wheat.
As I continue to chew, I notice the subtle hint of nuttiness and a touch of sweetness from the natural, developed sugars. The texture is equally as captivating as the taste. Airy, yet substantial and even with just this small piece, irregular holes throughout show the baker's careful craftsmanship. Each chew reveals a new dimension of flavour, the sourness mellowing into a rich, almost buttery aftertaste.
Finishing the tester piece, I close my eyes and savour the last bits of it. I've never tasted sourdough as lovely as that.
"Do you want some? You looked like you enjoyed that, Lil," Loick asks. Surprising myself, I shake my head no and turn to look up at him.
"We don't have anywhere to keep it. It was good though," I admit.
"Merci," I say, thanking the baker before we move on.
I next find myself drawn to a fragrant pastry stall where rows of golden croissants, tarts and swirls glisten in front of me. The buttery scent of the flaky pastries makes my mouth water. I'd love a chocolate croissant now but after my breakfast, I pass, smiling as we pass by.
We next pass the olive stall where an array of green, black and even purple olives sit on display in large barrels. The smell of briny olives mixed with herbs and garlic fills the air as we walk past. The storekeeper offers Loick a sample of plump olives, which he kindly declines.
I think I've seen Loick eat an olive once and he spat it out. As much as I'd love to see that again, I doubt he'd let that happen. Even if it was for my amusement and my amusement alone.
Next to it, the herbs and spices stall stands with its vibrant colours and swirling scents. Scents of cinnamon, cardamom and cumin stand alongside bundles of fresh rosemary and thyme. I inhale deeply, enjoying the blend of complex scents.
After making our way through the stalls, we come up to a surprisingly quaint souvenir stall, nestled at the end of the trail. The table showcases an eclectic mix of local crafts, postcards and trinkets.
But there's nothing tacky here. No plastic crap you forget about when you've got home. Everything is... lovely.
Pausing, I admire a hand-painted ceramic plate with a picture of a sunset expertly painted on there. It's an array of soft yellows, burnt oranges, fiery reds and deep purples, framing the sun and shimmering water. It looks like the view we have from our balcony. Strange.
"Let me get that for you," Loick says. I turn my attention away from the plate and look up at him. It's lovely. But I have nowhere to put it.
I don't even know what living situation I'm going home to. I've no idea if Aidan has gone to his parents or whether I'm going to have to go to mine. We worked so fucking hard for that bloody house too. It's another thing down the drain. I'm surprised the metaphorical drain hasn't burst by now.
"No, it's okay. I've nowhere to put it," I sigh.
Quickly, before Loick can do anything, I turn on my heels and walk in the opposite direction. I hear him pace behind me until he catches up and begins to match my walking speed as he has done since we arrived.
"At least let's get a coffee then?" He says, nodding over to a quaint little coffee shop. A coffee does sound good right now...
"Okay."
***
Quickly, the market gets busier by the minute. It's bustling now, crowded with shoppers, tourists and locals going about their day. And I can only imagine it's going to get busier as the day goes on. It's a mixture of locals flocking here to get their local produce and tourists enjoying the sights and surroundings St.Tropez has to offer.
I don't blame the locals for coming here. Even if they do have to share it with others. There's simply nothing better than homegrown produce.
When I was about eleven years old, me and Mum used to have a small veggie patch in the back garden. We'd grow anything and everything in our little patch. Potatoes, tomatoes, carrots, onions and various herbs all had pride of place, growing at the bottom of our garden.
We made anything and everything with our produce. My favourite was a chilli and tomato soup Mum once concocted because she accidentally knocked some chilli flakes into the mix without realising until she served it.
It had the usual smooth, creamy texture of normal tomato soup but had a spicy kick to it too. It caught us all off guard when we sat down at the table but we all loved it and requested chilli flakes be sprinkled in the mixture again in the future.
We were so proud of our little patch of land and what we made. We ate everything we grew. It didn't last long but we made some lovely, homemade food and knew it was all because of us. Maybe when I go home, I'll start planting seeds again. If I have a garden to go back to, that is.
We've had two coffees since sitting down but I'm quite happy to enjoy the scenery and watch the world go by while we rest our feet after our morning of exploration.
Even though I've not bought anything and Loick hasn't either, I feel a sense of contentment, more so than before. My bag might not be filled with goodies or treats but my mind is brimming with the sensory experience the market has given us.
The sounds of the market envelopes me. Stall keepers have started to call out their daily specials and offers in melodious French, while I've seen customers haggling with them good-good-naturedly over prices.
A truck pulled up offering a selection of things, wine, fruit, ice cream and crêpes just to name a few. The clinking of wine bottles and the sizzling crêpes have only added to the charm of market life.
At the heart of the market, by an ornate fountain adorned with sculptures depicting mythological scenes and gold leaf accents a group of musicians play lively accordion music. Their upbeat melodies set my toes tapping against the cobblestones and makes me and others smile. I find myself swaying to the rhythm as I watch on.
"So, what do you think of the market?" Loick asks.
"I love it. I'm so glad we came. Thank you," I reply. I'm so grateful to him. I don't know what I could possibly do to make him realise how grateful I am he's here. None of this would even be possible without him.
"What for, Lil?"
"Just... being here," Loick smiles softly in return and sighs, closing his eyes, enjoying the sun.
Reaching forward for my coffee again, I take a sip but before I even swallow a flash of movement happens beside me and Loick isn't sitting in front of me anymore. An uneasy feeling settles in the root of my gut and my eyes shift slowly to my left.
Loick stands tall, holding the wrist of a young boy, no older than fifteen, above his head. I can see the whites of his knuckles growing more prominent and the boy looks terrified. My heart begins to race as I realise what's going on. Pickpockets.
"Give me the phone. Now," Loick demands slowly. His voice is lower and... dark.
"Désolé, monsieur. Désolé," the boy pleads. Without hesitation, he hands the phone back to Loick, terrified, his eyes wide.
"Now leave," he growls, emphasising his point. The boy scurries away, quickly out of sight and melts back into the crowd.
I was oblivious. Completely unaware. I didn't even see him. Or feel his hands emptying my kaftan's pockets. Although I suppose that's the whole idea of his... Craft.
Looking up, Loick stands tall above me. He hands my phone to me and silently takes a seat back where he was moments ago.
"Don't leave that in your pocket, Lil. Or anything else valuable. We need to be careful now it's much busier. He's had his eye on you for a while," he says, his voice steady and much calmer than he was. He's like a light switch, he can turn pretty much anything about himself on and off. I wouldn't mess with him. The poor boy probably left the market after that encounter. I know I would've.
My eyes widen as realisation dawns on me. My back's been turned this whole time. Of course, I'd be a target.
"I didn't even think, Lo. Thank you," I reach over and gently place my hand over his and squeeze. Thanking him with this small gesture. As I feel his warmth, my heart rate slowly returns to normal and I hope Loick's does too.
"It's what I'm here for. No one is messing with us. Now, let's finish our coffee then we can decide what we want to do. With our valuables safely tucked away," he says, nodding down to my phone knowingly.
***
Since leaving the coffee shop to continue our day, both Loick and I have remained much more vigilant. I'm so grateful he stepped in and prevented an incident that could've potentially ruined our vacation.
Even in the most charming of settings, we've got to stay alert and look out for one another.
Just as before, we've been drawn in and out of the vibrant tapestry of the market. It really is a feast for the senses and a testament to the joy of daily life here in St. Tropez.
"Fancy an ice cream?" Loick asks. I follow his eye line and find he's gesturing to a small van parked by a set of benches.
Despite his kindness, I can't seem to stop the frown that's forming on my face. Something is... different, with him. But not wrong, if that makes sense.
"An ice cream?" I clarify.
"Yeah...?" He replies.
"You've been so... Different since we arrived, Lo. No, even before we left, in fact," I state.
"What do you mean?" My frown turns into a smile and my eyebrows raise as he stares at me, eagerly awaiting a response.
Don't get me wrong, Loick is never not kind or gentle towards me. But since I walked into his place before we arrived, what I'm used to has doubled perhaps tripled. Granted, I'm here under the shittiest of circumstances but the bad boy I know that lies deep within him is losing his touch.
I don't see that side of him. I never have but I know it's there. I've heard enough about his reputation than I care to admit. But I don't care because I don't see it.
"First, the cake on the balcony. Second, saving my phone and third, ice cream. Where's that bad boy everyone talks about gone?" I ask.
Loick stops walking and I watch a smirk snake and curl its way onto his lips. He moves to stand directly in front of me before crouching down so his eyes are level with mine. Removing the extra height he has on me.
"Oh, believe me. I can be bad, Lily." His voice has pitched a few octaves lower and the darkness from before has returned.
My breath catches in my throat as his words wash over me. A warm flush creeps up my neck and I feel it colour my cheeks. I bite down on my lower lip, my eyes widening slightly as he holds my gaze.
What the fuck?
My heart races and I feel a tingling sensation spread through my body. The air around us seems charged with electricity, causing my skin to prickle with anticipation. Of what, I don't know. But I find myself leaning in ever so slightly, drawn by an invisible force causing me to hang on Loick's words.
Before I can do anything, he rises to his usual height and continues, unaffected, towards the ice cream van.
Why is my body reacting to Loick - of all people - this way? A mixture of excitement and uncertainty courses through my veins as I watch him walk on.
Inhaling deeply, I close my eyes, trying to ignore the tingling sensation that still lingers. Thinking about it just makes it more vivid. The way his voice had lowered, the intensity in his eyes, the electricity that had passed between us.
But no matter what I do, deep down, I know I can't lie. That affected me, in ways it probably shouldn't. The heated blush, the quickening of my pulse, the warmth that had spread through my body, I enjoyed it all. And that terrifies me.
Unable to shake the thought, the uncertainty and questioning of my reaction overwhelm me. But equally, so does the undeniable thrill of what I know is the forbidden. I'm torn between shame and strangely, a secret longing for more.
I've never been affected like that. Not by anyone and their words. No one. Things are changing. I can feel it. And I'm not sure if either me or Loick has the power to stop it.
——————
Happy Saturday, loves. Thought I'd treat you all to some weekend reading 📖
So... a little glimpse at the other Loick. And just how much of a hold he has on... everyone 🤭
I hope you're all enjoying the story so far. Don't forget to vote and comment. I love reading and replying to them. You spending your time here means the world to me 🥰
Until the next one, Jen 🩵