Plans

And when at last, they managed to pull apart, Tristan rested his forehead against hers and murmured.

— "I missed you"

Frances closed her eyes with a sigh; that admission felt much more intimate than anything he had ever told her. As if, now, she had changed status and was part of his world. To know that her longing was requited caused a huge wave of relief to quell her doubts.

— "I thought of you every single second since you left"

He nodded, his features set in worry lines.

— "I'm sorry. I needed to fix my situation before I could sort my feelings. I had no idea where I was going."

She understood, really, that he had refused to contact her until the mess of his life was settled. The hurt, though, would not be easily forgotten. So she tightened her hold upon his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. Tristan wavered on his branch and chuckled.

— "You seem more at ease here than on solid ground. It is the ice skating ?"

Frances considered his question, feeling the steady form of the branch below her toes, as if the plant itself supported her.

— "I was always at home in trees.", she said, then emerged from his neck to look him in the eye. "Actually, I think it's the other way around. After all, it you can pick cherries in equilibrium on the upper branches, you can balance on a blade digging in the ice"

Tristan pecked her lips, unable to resist, before his eyes roamed her face.

— "I always saw you as a fairy. I think I was right."

— "A fairy ?"

His finger caressed her cheekbone tenderly, a gesture that caused goosebumps to run through her spine. Or was it the beauty of his golden-flecked eyes ? How she could drown into them.

A sudden noise caused her to pull back and she hastily settled beside the trunk once more, spotting her father a few yards away. Blush crept up her cheeks and she bit her lip.

— "Let's not bring my parents into that equation just yet", she whispered.

Tristan chuckled, squeezing her hand before letting go.

— "I heartily agree to that, you'll have to answer questions soon enough"

She was glad he wasn't angry; she didn't want her parents to desecrate this blossoming relationship yet. She wanted him for herself, without questions, without justifications, before she had to tell the world she was going out with her former geography teacher.

Tristan didn't seem to mind – perhaps he also felt awkward. So he resumed the previous conversation as if nothing was amiss.

— "You look like a fairy, with your long hair and the way you dance. I could always picture you in an enchanted forest"

— "Well there I am, in my enchanted cheery tree. Did you know I revised my BAC here ?"

He lifted his eyes to the highest branches, wondering if they would keep his weight if he attempted to climb up. It was so easy, to picture Frances sleeping like a cat against the harsh, unwelcoming bark.

— "I'm not surprised. Think we should come down before night ?"

— "I don't know. It's pretty comfy here", she teased.

Tristan turned to watch her, mirth dancing in his eyes. His lips quirked up in that half smile she adored and she had to stub her toe against the trunk to prevent from jumping him. There was something else than desire dancing there, amusement, perhaps, or anticipation. His next words were detached, a little insecure, even, but vibrant all the same.

— "I've got two tickets for Mark Knopfler's concert in the Nîmes Arena next Thursday. If you want them… you'll have to come down the tree"

Frances' eyes widened.

— "What ? Mark Knopler is playing in France ?", she squealed.

A full smile bloomed upon Tristan's face, so dazzling that, for a moment, she even forgot that her favourite artist was within arm's reach.

— "Come with me ?", he asked.

Frances' response was such a passionate kiss that it left him a little dizzy. But at least, he wasn't afraid anymore. She had not pushed him away, had welcomed him, even, her feelings just as strong as before. Stronger, even.

— "I can't wait", he whispered.

And he meant it.

The next few days were excruciatingly slow, but he had left his number in her old Nokia phone. Thank God for the unlimited text package, else he'd be ruined. Now, all sorts of considerations ran through his busy mind. Should he book two rooms, or only one ? Twin beds ? Hell, he'd taken her once against a wall like a one-night stand and he really wanted to do this right. To woo her properly, even if he couldn't deny that desire strongly affected his decisions. Hell, he wasn't a schoolboy !

So he gave up the battle, and texted her instead.

'Want me to book two rooms ?' – Tristan.

'Don't be silly. I'd sleep in yours 😊' – Frances

Tristan paused, a smile lifting the corner of his mouth. Cheeky lady. Apparently, she didn't resent the classroom tryst so much if she was willing to throw herself in his arms again. Still, he was the older man here, the responsible one. Perhaps he ought to ask how much experience she had with men – boys, probably – before starting another round of crazy lovemaking. The passionate woman that had melted in his arms had nothing to envy to any of his previous partners, still… he'd been very, very active. Perhaps a little too imposing ?

'Are you sure ?' – Tristan

'I love cuddles :p' – Frances

Her response caused his blood to go south, and Tristan grimaced. She was going to be the death of him. What was it, with this little lady, that caused him to combust? He found her beautiful, of course, just like half her classmates – yes, he'd caught some looks. But beautiful women had never stirred such desire, such overwhelming need to make her his. Phew. The word 'condom' went on the list that would go on his suitcase, just in case she'd dropped her pill.

The next series of texts were bittersweet, as Frances took quite a dressing down for leaving when she should have been working.

'My parents don't like you very much right now' – Frances

'You need a break before the exams' – Tristan

'I know. They have trouble accepting it' – Frances

Tristan's tongue darted over his teeth, annoyed. Didn't they see how dangerous for one's mind this pace of studying was ? Those classes imposed the stronger rhythm in Europe, and could certainly match certain Asian countries.

Frances was sturdy, that much he knew. The fact that she had been able to send Alain to get him after what happened at Christmas… this alone spoke of her character. To face your own teacher, knowing he would put and two together and maybe look at her funny for the rest of the year… She knew just as well how to handle pressure at her ice-skating show. But she needed, as much as anyone, to relax for a few days before getting back. One refilling moment of joy before the home stretch.

He knew, the moment the idea hit him, that it was a good one… and that he wouldn't really get brownie points with her parents as well.

'Let's make that escapade two nights. What do you think?' – Tristan

'Squeal. Yes ! They will hate you now :p' – Frances

'I don't mind… It's you…

Tristan's thumb paused on the keyboard. It's you I'm worried about ? It's you I want to take care of ? It's you I have feelings for ? She had told him, as he banged her against the wall, that she loved him. Not a day had passed without her declaration tugging at his heartstrings. What about him ? Did he love her ? If so, it wouldn't do to text it. If he didn't… he certainly was infatuated, for those four last months had been hell on earth. Especially the divorce procedure.

Seeing his spouse crying her eyes out every time he walked in, the feeling of failure, the heartbreak. The memories, good and bad, of their eight past years, piling up inside a box. And every time his guilty mind though of Frances, he felt relief invade him. If he could have talked to her at the time, he was sure she would have soothed his mind. But he couldn't drag her into this difficult business. This marriage, and the subsequent failure had been his own doing. It was his to fix, and find the closure.

Now he felt free. The melancholy would go eventually, when enough time had passed. And he would be able to meet his ex-wife without feeling so guilty, without feeling like the horrible person the mirror reflected. The unfinished text looked him in the eye, the phone daring him to finish that sentence. And so he did.

'I don't mind… It's you I care about' - Tristan

Nothing but the truth.