(Flash and) Fleur Friday No. 12 — Painted Face

Jeanne stopped because the street art painted face on the wall outside of the bar captured her attention. Terrence caught her attention right after.
He was in a button-down white shirt and jeans. She had never really seen him look so casual. He typed on an iPad, and there was a glass of wine beside him. He mirrored what she often looked like when she was writing at home or on the road—in a cafe or bar.
When their eyes met, he shrugged. His shrug was inviting, and she walked in. Terrence stood up, and hugged her. His hug was warm, and a little desperate.
She had not seen him since Eliza broke up with him, when she decided that she wanted to be alone and she did not want to be with anyone. He had just faded away… But seeing him here resurrected her feeling of unity with him when they met in the cafe near Eliza’s apartment, after her accident and used to visit her.
“How are you?” she asked softly.
“Jobless and loveless, but otherwise good.” They shared equally bittersweet smiles, as Terrence studied her. “How are you? How is Eliza?”
“Fine, and good,” she shrugged. “It’s nice to see you.”
“You too.”
It was awkward.They had shared some random texts, but the friendship that had been developing between them got murky when Eliza broke up with him.
Terrence turned to the waiter and pointed at his wine, and then pointed at Jeanne.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, when the wine was placed in front of her.
“What are you working on now? What are you writing?”
Jeanne ran an imagined errant hair off of her face.
“A few stories. I cover a lot of art and that season is starting up, and a lot of cultural stuff.
Art and culture were her savior and grace always. Conversation started to flow between them after that—and a few glasses of the house wine.
“How long do I have you for?” Terrence asked, looking at his watch.
“I was just wandering. I am going to write later.”
“That’s pretty,” Terrence said, caressing her chain and Jeanne looked down. His finger felt molten on her skin, and she watched him caress the word “fleur” on her neck. It was a gift from Mal.
“It was a gift.”
“You are like a flower. Soft, tender…very delicate.”
Jeanne’s face flushed as she continued to look down.
“Are you hungry?”
Jeanne looked up at him, his eyes always matched hers.
She nodded.
When they got up, she swerved a bit, from the wine. Terrence held her waist, and steadied her. She put her hands over his, as she steadied herself from warmth of the wine.
But she was not so steady from the warmth of Terrence which she was starting to love….

This is my newest Fleur Friday, which became (Flash and) Fleur Friday since I am writing it for my Friday Flash meme—you can read those stories here.
Since Eliza and Jeanne are sisters, you can read about Eliza here. Jeanne is close friends with Sabrina, who you can read about here.

photo by fdotleonora

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