The French night-breeze is cool against Mia’s cheek, and even if it’s already over 12 ‘o’ clock the atmosphere is stifling. She feels hot, sweaty and disgusting so she takes Stephane’s hand and pulls him out of the comfortable deckchair.
They have been sitting there, talking to each other about life and the world since after dinner, and Mia feels very happy sitting next to the handsome, sexy Frenchman. Stéphane has black hair, brown eyes and when he smiles she just wants to throw herself into his arms. She has been lucky to find someone who speaks both French and Swedish here, because the French she learnt at school is very bad. Stéphane’s mother was born in Sweden and she thought her son how to speak the Swedish language. Even if he makes mistakes sometimes, Mia still thinks he speaks it very well.
His hand is cool against hers and she leads him to the pool. “Where are we going?” He asks, surprised. She smiles and answers: “We...
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