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cleverbroadwayurl · 5 years ago

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It Only Takes a Taste (Jeremy Heere x Reader Pt. 22)

Song: It Only Takes a Taste from Waitress

Word Count: 6316

Need to Catch Up? The links are weird on this site! Check my masterlist!

A/N: Oh my god I’m not sure how I did it, but I promised it and here it is! I know that there’s been a lack of content lately, and I’m trying to fix that while making a living for myself and wow it’s getting to be a lot! But I will keep working at it and trying because I know when writing gets posted, others are more inclined to create as well! So here’s part 22!! Credit to: MJ!!

Taglist: @retrogarden @be-more-heidi-hansen @scarsonthecuffsofyourjeans @bluhimaweirdo @catatonic-kuragin @stargirl-murphy @dee-writes-fics @macbookpro-hard-drive (I thought I’d tag u bc this fic was literally like your idea)

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of an abusive ex-boyfriend, mentions of intimacy. mentions of fear of intimacy, implied trauma, mentions of trauma, self-depreciation, mentions of the SQUIP, mentions of The Play, mentions of previous fic parts, IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW

Jeremy nods, and stutters out a quick “okay” before you practically vanish before his eyes. Everything and everyone around him was almost static, as if you hadn’t been there at all. But the tingly feeling in Jeremy’s heart and hands said different. It was something different within him. It was the first time he’d left and had some kind of security when thinking about you. Everything almost worked out, was almost perfect, and it was like….god he didn’t even know. You trusted him. You were okay. And in a solid night, he had gotten everything he’d wished so hard for—and he wouldn’t trade that for the entire world.

The Heere household hadn’t been so clean in years. Jeremy’s mom was the last person to really get it sparkling, until this very second, in which Jeremy was counting plates, blankets, amount of food, sodas, waters, amongst other things that had been perfectly laid about for an arrival that had been planned days in advance. Of course, you’d seen the Heere household in its usual somewhat cluttered glory before, but this was different, this was new, this was planned.

But it wasn’t a date…or was it? Jeremy stood for a second and stared at an old painting that had been there as long as he could remember. Was this a date? It was a planned interaction between the two of you, you coming over in what, 20 minutes or so? And yet, there was that same lingering feeling in the air, like you were still off limits like this was just the typical friend thing that he and Michael did. You were just coming over to play games…but then again, that could be counted as a date. He’d heard of other people doing that, but he also heard that there was sometimes no romance to it. Of course, he had Google searched it because his gut was just as unsure as to the logic. He knew that you wanted to be there. You’d texted him first, he brought up the idea of game night, you liked it, said you’d come over in a few days, now minutes, and he was still confused about the entire event. But, instead of pushing romance onto you, Jeremy made a definitive decision that this was a friend date. Yeah, just a friend thing. The last thing Jeremy would ever want to do was make you feel pressured into something you weren’t ready for. He assumed you’d seen that so many times before, and he wanted to be a source of comfort, a source of happiness. He just wanted to make you safe.

The ring of the doorbell catches him off guard, and he runs to answer it, the small window not being completely transparent to display who was really out there. He really hoped it was you and not a religious group asking if he had thought about Christianity that day. With a flick of the lock, and a twist of his wrist, the door was opened, and there you stood, almost basking in the light radiating from the house.

You’d mentioned you would be wearing something comfortable because it wasn’t worth it to play games in jeans—Jeremy agreed, of course, meaning he was in his own sweatpants and t-shirt—but even though you stood in pretty much the same attire, Jeremy couldn’t help but feel underdressed. For the first time ever, you stood on Jeremy’s doorstep, a genuine smile on your face, shoulders tall, and no fear emitted from you. It was the first time Jeremy had seen you healthy in front of him, your cheeks a normal color and your eyes as bright as Jeremy could ever only imagine them. Seeing them in real life felt like a fantasy of some kind. Nervousness creeps its way into your features and Jeremy suddenly realizes he’s been staring at you for like two minutes straight, oh my god, he has to say something otherwise it’ll get more awkward.

But why were you nervous? You should not be the one who’s nervous. You were a good person, even though Jeremy had seen the slander that had happened against you on social media less than recently. But you knew Jeremy, and Jeremy knew you. Meaning all of that stuff that was said Jeremy knew was only conjecture. He knew that it was lies and attempts to get people onto your ex-boyfriend’s side. Some believed him, Jeremy was sure, but your reputation only got stronger with Jeremy. He saw it as you being so successful while the things you left behind put up a fight before dying. It was a triumph. Your nerves became more and more apparent, and Jeremy began to mirror that, his own hands beginning to sweat because oh my god he definitely didn’t say anything like he was supposed to.

“Sorry I’m late, I had to change after work, and they kept me late so uhh…” you began hands fidgeting with the edge of your sweatshirt. Your eyes darted downwards, and Jeremy resented himself for making you revert to old habits.

“Oh! It’s fine, actually, uhh the food was uhh late and it’s totally okay,” Jeremy rushed out.

You giggle at him as he opens the door and lets you inside. He knows you’ve seen his house before, but you still stop to take it all in. It’s different. It’s new for both of you, but good. There’s something in the air as Jeremy stares; your eyes following the structure of his living room before they finally land back on him. He blushes and turns his eyes towards the ground, cheeks and ears getting hot. Jeremy can feel every little droplet of sweat…god it feels like he’s going through middle school again, a smile on your adorable face as he does so. He fidgets with the hem of his shirt before he asks if you just want to head down into the basement. You smile and nod, heading towards the door and down the stairs as Jeremy grabs a pizza and some water. Jeremy can feel the smile on his face grow as he carefully steps down the stairs and into the already-lit basement.

Jeremy sets the pizza down in front of the TV and beanbags, far enough away where both of you have leg room, but not so far that the pizza is unreachable. You sit on one end of the room, while Jeremy sits on the other; beanbags having so much space between them, Michael could probably take a nap in the space. But it feels right. For some reason, space seems to be a requirement before continuing with the night. There’s no pressure to touch, there’s no pressure of accidents, and for some reason, it feels like a decision that needed to be made, and was, mutually.

Eyeing up his own game collection, Jeremy turns to you, realizing that you’d been watching him, almost as he’d been watching you. “What did you want to start with?”

“It’s up to you” comes your response, corners of your mouth turning upwards. Jeremy can feel his heart beating faster at that, along with the fact that you were admiring—no—observing him from a distance. Your eyes glistened in the dimmed lights, almost brighter than any afternoon summer sun. He hadn’t seen that ever, even when he’d first started noticing you. It had always been slightly dimmer. But this? This freedom, this happiness? Was something Jeremy was so glad he had the opportunity to witness in his—friend.

It’s only now that Jeremy realizes that you had just cast the decision of what to do onto him. His mind raced with options, none of them being worthy of your time, especially since you hadn’t shown a preference and you were the guest, so this would be a tough choice. He wanted something fair, something that both of you could get into, even if that meant he would have to sacrifice winning. Maybe winning wasn’t important with you around. Jeremy decided that as long as you two were comfortable and having fun, anything would be fine. That’s probably why you put the decision onto his shoulders. Jeremy could recall you mentioning something about Mario Kart before, and he thought that was a safe choice, even though he wasn’t the best at it, to say the least. Michael would drag that into a melodrama about just how terrible Jeremy was at Mario Kart, but it was something that was current common ground between you and the nervous boy. He moves slowly, almost like the rules that had been distinguished in that basement so many months ago were still significant. He finds the cartridge and puts it into his switch before turning on the system. He takes a glance backward, almost checking to see if everything is okay with you, and he watches as you observe the screen, biting your lip as you do so. It isn’t a soft biting of the lip, it’s almost like you’re nervous, like that’s a way to take the stress out of the situation. Maybe the rules were still significant. You two were alone in the house, basement door closed with heavy and steep stairs leading to an exit. Maybe that was scary. Maybe that was nerve-wracking.

But instead of dwelling on trying to decide what would ease you, it was almost like he knew that actions would soothe that more than anything. He grabs the attachments for the joycons, allowing both of you to play instead of just one player. He held out them in front of you, blue and red controllers both set up for playing. The title music played softly as he wordlessly smiled and gestured to pick whichever one you wanted. And that was a true no preference choice he’d laid out in front of you. Left or right, red or blue, Jeremy didn’t care as long as you were comfortable. The weight of the choice brings your face down, the glisten in your eyes dims, and your hand gently grabs the red one as Jeremy’s other hand grasps the blue one. Your expression doesn’t change as you gingerly hold the joycon and get your hands in place for playing. Your nerves hit Jeremy hard, but he was glad you managed to choose the one controller you wanted.

Jeremy had ended up with the blue one, the left-handed one, but he didn’t mind. You were sitting, observing the controller before he hit start. And finally, things started to ease within the room.

With a few quick button presses, the multiplayer menu is displayed, more choices set in front of both of you. He looks at you again, seeing which one looks like the best option. But your eyes are almost stuck on the cursor on the screen. It’s almost like you’re scared of what is going to be picked. He brushes the thought aside and gives you a choice once again. His own preferences for what he wants to do are out of the door. Even as just friends, Jeremy’s priority is providing a comfortable place to just relax for a second. That’s how he and Michael had managed to become friends without filters. Michael wanted to battle in Mario Kart?? He’d say it, loudly, and usually compromising with later rounds. Jeremy was able to do the same, friendly arguments are healthy. They make sense. You’re allowed to disagree with the people around you. But then again, maybe you weren’t scared of the choice, but rather really wanted to do a particular type. Just to be sure, he somehow verbalized his concerns: “Is there a type you wanted to do? Grand Prix? Just races? Or Battle?”

“Any of them is fine with me,” your smile almost seems forced, like something is keeping you on edge. The very last thing Jeremy wants to do is make you uncomfortable, but this seems like it’s something bigger than him.

“Okay. I know I’m still working through 100cc, so did you just want to help me out with that?” Jeremy asks, hands becoming sweatier as he asks.

“Sure!” You smile at him again, more genuinely this time. He can see the ease drip into your posture, You bat your eyes towards the ground, before gripping your controller.

He selects Grand Prix before looking to you once again as your eyes concentrate on each cup like they were an intensely written sensation novel instead of just simple “Fun English” chosen by game writers. “Is there a cup you like that I haven’t completed?”

“Uhh kinda weird and retro, but Shell cup,” you say, eyeing up the courses, light coming back in as you do so.

“Shell cup it is.”

As the cup begins, your smile gets wide and you ease into the bean bag a little further. Your hands grip the controller as you get ready to race. It doesn’t even take a look for Jeremy to realize that you’ve relaxed, and he does the same. It’s a friendly game, both of you not worried about winning or losing in the present moment, just having some fun as friends. As the course is showcased on the screen, you two share a smile, followed by a chuckle, and the race beginning.

“I love Moo Moo Meadows,” you blurt out, red grazing your cheeks, like it was a fact that was embarrassing.

“Oh no way, me too!”

And that was the truth. He almost always saved Shell Cup for the last because of Moo Moo Meadows. One lap goes by, and then another. It feels too fast, like the Game Theory episode suggests. Racers, according to the episode, go anywhere from 120-200 miles per hour, just like Jeremy’s heart at this moment. He glances at your face as you steal the lead, your concentration just as heartwarmingly adorable as it had been in senior government. But this had more heart, more passion, it felt like something more beautiful and purely stemmed from something good rather than a dumb group activity. He notices your body tilted with the kart as your character on screen turns and drifts, the sparks around the tires turning from orange to blue. Your thumb flicks and the kart straightens out, giving yourself such a lead that Jeremy swears he’s never witnessed, even when playing with Michael.

His eyes turn back to the screen, and he’s doing somewhat well. Except not really, since his character is in 10th and bound to hit a wall at some point. You’re onto lap 3, and Jeremy is a little over halfway through with lap 2, but it doesn’t matter. He’s just happy that you’re having fun and helping him get that cool trophy, even though for his favorite track, he was doing rather terribly. He glances again at your screen, and you’re still in first with an even better lead, and he’s sure that not even a blue shell could make you place second. Jeremy makes a note to not look at your screen anymore, that it’s causing him to lose places every time he does it. He speeds up, and finally finishes 4th, which isn’t too bad for his favorite track and for messing up so badly halfway through.

The cup flies by faster than Moo Moo Meadows ever did, but Jeremy’s heart kept the pace. The scores are predictable, you did mention that you were rather good at Mario Kart. You’re in first while Jeremy’s keeping fifth. But for the first time ever, he doesn’t care. Frustration doesn’t come with fifth, it’s rather warmth and grace. There isn’t taunting like there usually is with Michael, instead, he gets you stating “keeping a place like fifth is so difficult, I’m impressed. First is easy once you get there.”

As soon as the cup finishes and the final scores are displayed, you earning a three-star ranking, a sticker, and a perfect first, Jeremy still keeps his average at fifth. He usually gets fifth or sixth. First or fourth, maybe, on a good day. But instead of saying something sweet or even a “good game”, your face pales, eyes stuck once again on the screen. Your elbows are practically digging into your body, hands gripping the controller so hard that he can practically see your knuckles turning blue. There was something so familiar about this behavior, the way your shoulders shot up in discomfort, the way your razor sharp focus was unforgiving and isolating, and the way you held everything you had.

“Wow,” Jeremy said, breaking the silence, and hopefully the tension that kept itself locked in your body, “you’re really good at Mario Kart.” You just nodded in response, nothing else moving but the slight movement.

Jeremy’s mind raced faster than it had in a long time. Did he do something wrong? What happened? In that short amount of time, his mind tried to recall every little thing he’d said, every movement, every detail that had been placed in front of him, no matter how small. Did he accidentally move closer to you? Did you catch him staring like a creep? He didn’t remember accidentally bumping into you or touching you without consent in any way, shape, or form, besides maybe brushing hands when you’d grabbed the controller from his hand. But that was before the Moo Moo Meadows conversation when you’d seemed to relax so much. And if he had accidentally brushed you or something, he’d immediately apologize for that. He couldn’t remember anything that had happened over the course of the four races. But then again, your perceptions were different than his. His mind might forget something but yours might keep it locked away forever. And leaving it silent was worse than just asking, apologizing, and getting it resolved, rather than keeping it in the open air, where it could really hurt you.

“I’m sorry if I uhh, made you uncomfortable or anything.” Your eyes met his and he swore they pierced his soul. “That wasn’t my intention, if I did.”

“What?” you asked, confusion now flooding into your face. After a breath, you started again: “Jeremy, you didn’t make me uncomfortable. I just uhh, I guess I like forgot something while we were playing. Just remembered it now. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Jeremy paused, unsure of what you were referencing. He was near positive it wasn’t a good memory. Something told him to speak up again, just to say something to fill the silence that surrounded the room. “Is there anything I can—”

“N-No, it’s fine. Do you want to race again, or maybe do something else? It’s up to you,” your eyes lost his and refocused on something else.

It was now that Jeremy realized that you didn’t move. You hadn’t moved. Usually, there was some shifting for comfort while playing a game and relaxing. But it had been several minutes, and there was no movement from you. It was like your body was a statue, rusted to the bean bag, unable to be moved. Something was very wrong. But if you didn’t want to discuss it right now, or frankly, ever, that was okay. And Jeremy accepted that.

He decided that maybe Mario Kart wasn’t the best idea, especially since he was so bad at it. And if him losing every race seem to only make the tension in the room swell, maybe it was good to just let the game go and choose something else; for both of your sakes. Of course, when it came to picking games that were fair for both of you, meaning probably no first-person shooters from middle school or anything, he decided to choose the great equalizer of all party games. Although it was a bad idea to pull it out, Jeremy thought that the best thing to do was switch over to a less popular part of one of the Nintendo franchises: Mario Party.

Of course, Friendship Ruiner 8000, as Michael liked to call it, included motion controls, which Jeremy was again, not good at. But he figured their janky-ness would even out the skill sets and make it more of a fair fight, even though Jeremy was sure he would be too caught up in you to actually play the game to his best ability. But trying was worth it. You were worth it.

“Do you want to maybe play Mario Party 8? It’s the only Mario Party I have, but I figure that the motion controls are so bad, it would be fun to just kinda laugh at,” Jeremy asked, his eyes flicking towards you. He was telling the truth about the motion controls. Yes, sometimes the controllers stop registering movement. It’s just frustrating for games like Skyward Sword but infinitely funny for games like Mario Party 8 or Wii Sports.

At last, your entire body shifted, like your soul was coming back into view, like everything had just been worked out, no strings attached. “Jeremy,” you started, a smile forming on your lips, “you trust me enough to be friends with me at the end of a Mario Party game?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow,” you stopped for a second before a full smile broke out on your face, even though discomfort still seemed to be at the forefront. A red crept into your face as you continued with your thought: “you must really think I’m a good person or something.”

“Well yeah,” Jeremy blushed in return before he rushed to change the game and console.

“Now it’s been a little bit since I’ve played Mario Party 8, so I’m warning you now, 2v2 games are going to be rough with me,” you said, hands pulling your sleeves down a little bit.

“That’s fine,” he reassured, “motion controls are weird anyway.”

You gave a chuckle as you continued sitting, getting more comfortable within the bean bag chair. “True.”

The game quickly started and both of you were met with less than ideal graphics—when did the Wii get such a pixelated screen?—and the odd mascot appeared before the two of you. His weird laugh came through the speakers, and more choices appeared on every screen. But suddenly, choices became easy. The type was of course 4 player, two being you, two being computers, 15 turns—to make it interesting, and any course except the city one that’s somehow a ripped off version of Monopoly. Finally, the character selection screen appeared, and Jeremy waited for you to pick your favorite original Mario character, just so he wouldn’t take something that would be claimed as rightfully yours, for the game, at least. Once you were done selecting, Jeremy picked his favorite franchise character, one that is overlooked by many people, specifically men. Jeremy Heere chose Princess Peach.

“Peach?” you asked, eyeing him.

Jeremy’s skin went aflame, he could feel the familiar tingling from his toes to his ears. His mind raced for justification, a quick answer, a solution, for why he chose Princess Peach. But you surprisingly beat him to it.

“She’s cool, Jeremy, I’m just surprised. Maybe I should’ve picked Mario or something.”

At the small comment and remark of romantic tension that was still lingering in the room, Jeremy turned every little bit redder and he swore that his heart skipped a beat. Was that you…flirting? With him? Jeremy had never seen that before, especially from you, and especially since you’d been strictly off-limits for so long. Maybe it was playful. It was a joke. It was something that he shouldn’t dwell on. You probably weren’t dwelling on it.

Somehow, the next few decisions happen, and Jeremy is able to form coherent enough sentences to vouch for the computers to be on Hard Mode, just to even the playing field between skill levels.

The game starts immediately, both computers pulling ahead and already placing traps on spaces that are supposed to be +3 coins. Both computers get an added 3 coins, for landing on the space, and both you and Jeremy make fun of the randomized way that both AI are playing the game.

The beginning of the game quickly switches to halfway through, and by now you’ve moved closer to Jeremy, bumping each other periodically, so far behind the computers it’s almost laughable. Each minigame is spent in a fit of laughter as both of you are clearly doing what the instructions are telling you to do, but the motion controls aren’t picking it up. It’s sweet, fun, and most importantly, relaxed. The now somewhat-cold-pizza is starting to be eaten, neither of you cares about how it tastes, but rather, what the moment means.

When the game finishes, Jeremy maintains a steady third, with you in second thanks to the bonus stars that are given out after the game is finished. Although both of you felt that you really didn’t do anything special, it was almost like the game took pity on you, and chose to give both of the actual players some bonus stars.

But between the two of you, the places don’t matter. It was fun to just play an interesting game with one another, despite the casual reputation it has among other groups. Each turn out of the 15 was exciting, fun, and laughable, considering how bad you two were doing. Instead of being put against each other, the two of you had an alliance; a method of teambuilding that couldn’t be fabricated by anyone. This was something special, and there was almost a bond formed that game, something that wouldn’t be easily forgotten or erased. And the room now had comfort practically written on the walls. Of course, it was a comfort with each other. The physical, more touchy, comfort wasn’t present in the room. There was still space between you two, and something still felt right about that. Maybe it was Jeremy’s mind consistently telling him to lay off on certain kinds of affection, especially since you two probably weren’t dating, and to keep his space.

The pizza was nearly gone, a final slice just sitting in the box, neither one wanting to touch it. The excitement of the game before had exited, and leaving in its place easy silence and exhaustion. It was late, and while Jeremy definitely wanted you to stay at his house for as long as you could, it was your choice to leave. He might be bummed out for a few seconds, but then would be honestly grateful for the time he got to spend with you, which was worth much more than feeling sorry for himself in his basement like usual. So he decided to leave an ambiguous question out of the equation of the night and instead decided on suggesting to watch a movie. It wouldn’t take much effort, and leaving halfway through would never be a crime, especially since Jeremy was not the person who wanted to take away that freedom. “Hey, do you maybe want to watch a movie? If you have to go, that’s fine too, but I thought I’d ask, like, just in case you didn’t or something.”

“Sure, Jeremy. That sounds nice after Toad totally kicking our asses.”

Jeremy let out a small chuckle before he flipped off the Wii and changed to the PS4. After cycling through the apps on the menu, he found Netflix and booted it up, the classic Netflix noise making its way into the basement. You sat back on the beanbag as the noise rang out, taking a more relaxed posture than you had the entire night. Although you seemed to be a little more at peace, Jeremy’s mind kept crawling back to the same thought: what even was tonight? The Mario and Peach comment made it seem like a date, but you two had never dated or established dating before, and the beginning of the night seemed only friendly. But now it felt so…date like. And of course, it wouldn’t be any date, no, this was the first date. First dates were uncomfortable, awkward, and kind of hard to swallow. They made even the most confident people cringe. They almost take the appearance of an interview for the rest of the relationship. And Jeremy didn’t want that. He’d rather keep the feeling in the room going and choosing something that wouldn’t make either of you uncomfortable. So he had to narrow his search: nothing with a sex scene or domestic violence of any kind. It would be too hard on you, he assumed, and it would crush him to make you upset on your possibly first date.

“First date?” you inquired, eyes scanning him.

Jeremy jumps up and nearly throws the controller, not realizing that his thoughts had been muttered aloud to the person sitting next to him. “Y-Yeah, because I thought well, the Mario and Peach comment, and I—”

“Jeremy,” you chuckle, smile breaking through and remaining. You finally make eye contact with him and Jeremy can feel the fear creeping up into his features. Wrong move, dumbass. “This isn’t our first date—” shit shit SHIT “—It’s like our fourth.”

For a second the world stops turning and Jeremy can feel his brain reeling back. How the heck was this a fourth date? Those other times he’d spent with you weren’t dates, were they? What counted, what didn’t count, what was in between? How did he miss something as big as this??? He didn’t really want to imply romance, even back in the moments, but this still felt like—

“Our first date I think I count as the time I came over here, even though that was a pretty bad circumstance. Our second was making breakfast, which again, bad circumstance, but still kind of a date. Our third was like four days ago, which, dancing together seems pretty romantically inclined, you know?”

Jeremy can only nod. He does know. He just didn’t think you had wanted—and still wanted—to date him. He’s been overthinking every interaction for over a year, each moment, each sleight of hand, everything that had happened before this very second. But for some reason, you explaining it like this, everything felt like it locked into place. The pieces are there, he just needed reassurance to fit them together.

“Therefore, fourth date,” you gesture around you, and Jeremy suddenly realizes that this was a date. The games, the lighting, the way you made jokes, the discomfort that had now morphed into comfortable bliss, it all felt like a date to him, and he had just wanted to respect your space.

“If that’s okay with you, of course,” you mentioned, hands quickly playing with your sleeves again, eyes darting downwards as if you’d done something wrong and made a terrible mistake. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, and I wasn’t going to if you weren’t thinking it but like you just said—”

“No, I agree with you. Completely. I’m just surprised I didn’t like…come up with it sooner.”

A small smile reappears on your face. “You’re valid, Jeremy.”

Instead of a movie, both of you settle on a light TV show, not really getting into the plot, but rather just relaxing in the dim light of the basement. With no one around, it feels like a lost peace that was recently found, like it was a treasure that couldn’t be seen by anyone else. The first episode ends quickly, another one just starting to play as the silence continues. There’s no awkwardness, no commitment, no extra things to be wary about and nothing that needed to be said. For that first episode or so, things felt like they were supposed to feel. Warm, simple, easy.

A thought occurred to Jeremy as the silence continued: he should be closer to you. This is a date, right? Did you want to hold hands or something? Did you want to be closer, and just didn’t know how to request things? Should he just go for it? No. A quick glance at you told him no. Your eyes were on the screen, captured by the show. Your eyes didn’t even match his for a second, meaning you were comfortable where you were and didn’t want, or frankly need, anything extra. Jeremy just being there was enough. His eyes refocused back onto the screen, getting into the show once more before your voice broke the silence between you two, and the quiet murmur of the show.

“Can I talk to you about something?” you ask, hands still fidgeting as you face him.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Because like, we’ve established this like relationship thing, I just…I wasn’t open in my last relationship, which was my fault and a major mistake.”

Jeremy held his breath but didn’t say anything. How could he? He didn’t know about what happened behind closed doors, wasn’t sure about the things that were said to you. In his mind, you didn’t get the chance to express your feelings or be open. You didn’t have the opportunity to have a good relationship, except maybe in the first little bit. But what did he know besides what you told him? How could even attempt to argue with you on something he legitimately knew nothing about? He wasn’t. At last, Jeremy nods, almost asking you to continue your thought.

“I, uhh, god where do I even start with this?” you breathe deeply before continuing, the breath shaky and uneven. “Jeremy, I can’t…do things yet. I can’t—I’m not—Fuck—I am so—” you took another breath—“I can’t be normal. I just…I can’t like…I have a really hard time with intimacy and romance and I just…I can’t even do simple things like hold your hand—not that you’re gross oh my god I’m so sorry that’s how it sounded—but like…my brain and body won’t let me do that for some reason. I don’t know what’s wrong, I’m so sorry, but I just…can’t be normal. I can’t fall asleep around you, I can’t hold your hand, I can’t be a good partner yet. I know you probably want to do that, and I just wanted to bring it up so you aren’t hurt or confused or something because I can’t do it. I just…I have baggage, Jeremy.”

Jeremy can hear tears starting to form, your voice thick. He knows what it means. He knows that you’re hurt, you’ve been hurt, and he knows that what your “not normal” is probably self-blame and trauma from what he could only catch glimpses of before. And while you’re here saying it’s your fault, Jeremy recognizes that it’s not yours, it could never be, but a particular someone’s, who should remain nameless.

“I know we’ve kissed before, but if we could just…hold off on that please for a little while, that would uhh, be great. And it’s a dumb thing to ask, and I’m sorry I have to ask it, and I know it’s a dumb me-thing, and—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jeremy turned towards you and paused the show as you take in a large breath and prepare for what he’s going to say. But he knows that this is something that’s hard to put into words, hard to handle. He knows this feeling, and he knows what should come after it. “It’s okay. We can wait. We can wait on everything for as long as it takes for you to feel comfortable. I understand that it’s hard, I mean, after the play junior year, I kind of had similar boundaries. But I dated someone who gave me patience. I’ve been forever grateful for that, so I want to do the same for you. You deserve that patience and to be comfortable in your own skin.”

“I—” you started, mouth open, eyes frantically blinking, “Thank you. I mean…wow, I really just…wasn’t expecting that at all.”

“You’re welcome.” Jeremy smiles and lets you have some time to take care of yourself, to calm down and really come back to reality a little bit. He offers his hand out if you want to grab it, but if not, he’s not hurt by it. He knows that sometimes you need physical space as well as emotional space, and wouldn’t be offended if you chose not to grab it.

“Can I ask you something weird?” the question drops into the room harder than a weight being dropped.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Can we like…can we just like function on consent for a little bit? Like we ask before just…touching, even if it’s something small, and can we uhh ask for consent for like kissing and stuff? It’s a weird and tiring request, I know, but…”

“Of course we can.”

“Thank you.”

Jeremy shakes his head before continuing the conversation. “You don’t need to thank me, they’re your boundaries and I want to respect them.”

A tear rolls down your cheek, and Jeremy’s eyes catch it, but doesn’t move to wipe it away. That would be cruel after what he’d just been told, and it feels like every night before is flooding back to him. Touching you before required consent. This was the same thing, the same circumstances, the same hurt. It was different, though. This was him having this conversation with you, this was the fear that he’d break them like they’d been thousands of times before. This was to prevent extra breakdowns that didn’t need to happen and to keep you safe, as much as he wanted to do that while you were in his arms. He’d rather not imprison you during the relationship. He’d rather let you roam free as the birds flying above.

“You have no idea what that means to me,” is finally whimpered out.

Neither of you touch one another, and Jeremy’s hand is discarded. You two finish another two episodes before you gather up your stuff and head up the stairs. Upon request, Jeremy doesn’t touch you. He doesn’t try. He doesn’t ask for consent, because something told him to let you have your space tonight: over text, spatially, over social media, and in any other capacity. You thank him for the night, with promises to text him the next morning, before leaving and heading out to the car that Jeremy’s dad knew too well. No kisses, no touching, but confusion about the Mario Kart incident before still unsolved. But that was another boundary he wanted you to have space on.

You had been wronged before, you’d been confused, cheated out of a life that was set for you that was supposed to be happy. Your ex-boyfriend had done wrong. Jeremy wanted to do it right.

#Jeremy Heere x reader #jeremy heere imagine #bmc x reader #bmc imagine #be more chill x reader #be more chill imagine #bmc self insert #be more chill self insert #Jeremy Heere self insert

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taniasinel · 7 years ago

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CHIC ON GRAN CANARIA

Years ago, when I was obsessed with the series of books and later the movies, “Twilight,” I met another devotee of the books who lived in Spain. We became close friends online and “talked” via Skype. We are still close even though we are no longer fans of the books. While Izzy is Spanish she actually lives on the Canary Islands, that romantic destination that so many of us from the states don’t really know where they are. In fact, the Canary Islands are just 100 miles off the coast of Africa, right near the Sahara Desert and Morocco. Desert sand from the Sahara has made its way to the islands, carpeting the beach in its dry ivory sand.

The tiny yellow star to the left of Western Sahara, Africa is where the 7 Canary Islands are, just 100 miles off the shores of the large continent.

The Canary Islands are seven tiny islands that are technically an archipelago. They were populated before 500 BC and in 1483, Queen Isabella of Spain conquered the land after a five year war. Their pleasant subtropical climate helps secure their reputation as a tourist attraction. It was their location on the Atlantic Ocean that made them a popular stopover for explorers and Christopher Columbus often stayed there before he started off on his explorations.

The 7 Canary Islands. The round one in the center is Gran Canaria.

The second largest island is called Gran Canaria and its capital Las Palmas is the largest town on all seven islands. It is here on Gran Canaria that this story takes place.

This story starts with the debonair decorator Christophe Gollut. Though born in Switzerland, Gollut now lives in London where he has a very successful career designing interiors for the upper crust and the titled English. Though Gollut is not quite as well known in America, he is highly respected and very talented all through Europe. His work has been published in almost every design magazines and it was through his friendship with the founding editor of The World of Interiors, Min Hogg, that the two now both have second homes on the Canary Islands, Gran Canaria, to be exact.

When photographs taken by Miguel Flores-Vianna of Min Hogg’s house on Gran Canaria turned up in both this month’s Milieu Magazine and in Miguel’s fabulous new book Haute Bohemians – I became hopelessly obsessed with the island, with Min, with Christophe, and their charming houses there.

Obsessed, I tell you!!

First things first…

How does a woman from London become the world’s most famous design magazine editor?

Min and her family escaped the blitz during WWII in the countryside of Wales.

Georgina Hogg, seen here as a young girl, grew up in Regent’s Park, where she was the daughter of a surgeon, the personal doctor of the Queen. Her mother was into the arts and took young Georgina, known as Min, to museums and tours of England’s stately houses. Her mother had great taste, which she passed down to Min, along with her love of chinoiserie, porcelains, and faded carpets.

Min’s mother, Polly at 7, painted by a friend. She was actually sitting in front of a fire – the snow was in the imagination of the artist. Min credits her mother for introducing her to the world of beautiful objects.

Min attended boarding school and, later, art school where she was a student of Terence Conran. His wife Caroline got Min her first job in journalism – working as a typist for Queen magazine. For a time Min dated the director John Huston and befriended his daughter, actress Angelica. After Queen magazine came several other jobs and eventually, Min landed back at the now named Harpers & Queen as its Fashion Editor. Her assistant? Anna Wintour. Yes, THAT Anna.

Min, as a chic Fashion Editor. I LOVE this photograph and that ribbon!!!

It’s long been known that Min and Anna Wintour were not the best of friends. Anna knew that Min’s heart wasn’t in fashion and Anna was said to be livid that Min got the job over her. But Min’s boss later defended hiring her saying she was “very intelligent and very articulate” which obviously impressed him very much. Anna ended up leaving her post and Min stayed on for a while longer.

Min as a fashionista in London.

After Harpers & Queen, Min took a job at Interiors Magazine as its editor. Her first assignment was to decorate their offices, which she did in blue and white. “It ended up looking jolly good” she said.

When she landed what she has called her dream job – Min was 40 year old and had spent a lifetime visiting beautiful houses and traveling. She was obsessive about things “looking right” and being head of a interior magazine allowed her to do it all, just to please herself.

The magazine Interiors became The World of Interiors, a decorative read for the intelligent. The stories came from all over the globe, with a heavy dose of history and the exotic mixed in. WOI was an instant success and within six months of its launch, Conde Nast came knocking on its door with an offer to buy it. As founding editor, Min Hogg became revered and respected. Many have tried to copy WOI’s formula, but its uniqueness is impossible to mimic. As editor, Min chose interiors that were the personal reflections of the owners as opposed to decorators. She strove to publish houses that featured eclecticism, vintage style, and individualism, not modernism nor minimalism. She would cover anything from a palace to a pigsty, as long as she found it worthwhile.

The first World of Interiors cover is shown here, center, with Anouska Hempel’s London sitting room on the cover. The next issue had Monet’s Giverny yellow dining room on the cover. Min remembers the endless quarrels about what would go on the magazine’s cover. “I completely ruled the roost!”

Years ago, Houston designer Richard Holley told journalist Mitchell Owens why The World of Interiors was so influential: editorial independence. "It's not pushing the latest colors or the newest furniture or what's hot.”

That editorial independence came directly from Min Hogg.

In WOI, trends were ignored as were ads which are really how-to stories. Perfectly decorated rooms were also usually avoided, although they weren’t ignored. Mario Buatta said “Min hates decorators.” He was only kidding, sort of. Not true, Min replied. She just believed that amateurs have a lot to teach the professionals. “They are generally more enthusiastic and certainly more honest about their mistakes and how they managed to camouflage them. Why does everything have to be so perfect? Nothing in real life is, you know,” Min told Owens.

In World of Interiors, Min printed stories that no other editors dared to print – such as a derelict stable elegantly designed by a 21 year old squatter.

Although Min Hogg studiously avoided covering trends – she actually started them. The term “Shabby Chic” was coined by her. Country Swedish? After World of Interiors showed 18th century Swedish houses over and over again, a fad was started that is still going strong today. Then, an article written about 19th century china inspired Pierre Frey to manufacture their famous teacup fabric called “Minton” which was a huge hit.

Min stayed at the helm of WOI for over 20 years and now writes for Cornucopia, a magazine about Turkish design which keeps her traveling all over the Middle East. Today, in her 70s, Min has designed a line of wallpapers based on 18th century engravings of seaweed. Of course! She would never design a wallpaper collection of something mundane.

Min’s line of wallpapers & fabrics.

Min’s own London apartment, in a stucco townhouse down from Harrods, is typical of what is seen in The World of Interiors. She is part cluttered, part hoarder, and it’s obvious she likes to be surrounded by things she loves. “I don’t decorate, I just put things together,” she says.

“Decorating is at a really low ebb, depressing beyond belief,” she says. “It’s the fault of technology. People have stopped looking at pictures and furniture.”

Hard at work in her London apartment. The walls are pink. Love the Rolodex! The desk? It’s actually her antique Swedish dining table. Across from the table is the fireplace and bookshelves.

When Min first moved into her apartment, all the walls were papered in a honeysuckle pattern of different colors for each room. Her mother told her to leave it as is. Ten days before she moved in, the honeysuckle paper was all removed and the walls became pink instead.

An early version of Min’s 3 room apartment on the top floor of an old townhouse. Above the sofa hang 15 antique engravings of a military campaign in 1820 Burma. Min says if you can’t afford one large piece of art – group prints together, instead.

Hey, that’s what I say!!!

Originally Min had a pink skirted table paired with pink tufted Belle Époque chairs that she says came from either the theatre or a brothel because there are only two casters on the front legs.

Another view, with the filled bookshelves and neatly stacked porcelain on the mantel, obviously tidied up for the photo by the stylist. In the center is a large tufted ottoman with a pink chair. The blue curtains were fashioned by Min by hanging one 16’ long piece of fabric over a rod.

Words of wisdom from Min taken from different interviews in the New York Times and other papers:

'Over the years I've seen millions of places improved by the people who live there and not by decorators,'' she said. ''When the chance came to edit The World of Interiors I decided that I would show people not the usual interiors done by decorators.''

''I think we are going through a very arid time in design, you look at a modern house and what do you see? A chaise designed in 1929. Some Marcel Breuer. Some Corbusier. You look at new furniture and all you see is Mackintosh chairs, which is too bad, because neither the originals nor the copies are comfortable.''

In Min’s apartment, she later moved the Burma collection to over her bed.

Later still, the ottoman is replaced with this footstool. On the left is her blue and white striped sofa.

Min is known for the scarves she wears in her hair. The reason? She explained in an interview that she hates going to the hairdresser, so she dyes her hair and cuts the “fringe” herself. Her hair is long, but she doesn’t like long hair on older women, so she wraps it around her head – held up by the colorful scarf that is her now her trademark!! Another trademark are her pearl earrings which she used to make herself, but now has them custom made.

A newer piece is the red and striped slipcovered wing chair – is it obvious she loves stripes?

And here, Min instagramed it for us! Love!

When photographing her new line of wallpaper and fabrics, the stylist had Min’s antique sofa covered in one of the designs –the fabric was added inside the frames too.

I can only assume she kept the new design on the sofa!

A later view of the mantel with all the porcelains just as Min prefers them.

An instagramed photo of the living room mantel and oil painting.

And another instagrammed photo of the sculpture placed inside her mantel.

The antique Burma prints were later moved to her bedroom. I believe she remodeled this bedroom at a later date.

The vanity table is actually a wallpaper workman’s table with the legs shortened. Min’s mother made the skirt for her.

A “Hogg�� ancestor.

Above an antique chest is an oval mirror. Another mirror is reflected in it.

Her pink room with the green antique dresser.

A collection of Witches Balls hang from the mantel. Here you can see the delicate pattern on these pink walls.

Min instagrammed this mantel with her pink walls.

And sitting in front of the mantel in pink.

Min doesn’t like kitchen items hidden behind cabinets. Instead, she has it all out on display. Here, she put checked fabric behind the wired doors.

While Min’s London townhouse used to get all the attention – it is her house in Gran Canaria that is now in the news.

Why Gran Canaria?

It was through Min’s friendship with the afore mentioned Christophe Gollut that she was introduced to the Spanish Canary Islands.

Christophe Gollut and Min are great friends. He was one decorator whose work was shown in World of Interiors, and long ago she also published him in Harpers & Queen. He has had a long and highly respected career, working with those who can afford to furnish their houses with priceless antiques - the complete opposite of Min’s aesthetic. His clients are rumored to be the Rothschilds, the Flicks, Princess Michael…but, wait. Gollut corrects this – he is friends with Princess Michael and only advises her on design.

This house he designed was just recently shown in The World of Interiors:

The owners met Christophe on the Canary Islands where they both have vacation houses. This is the fourth house Gollut has designed for the couple – the wife had inherited it from her grandfather. Located in Madrid, it was once connected to the Royal Palace through an underground tunnel, created for perhaps a lady-in-waiting or a lover? The house is an enfilade with room after room opening to each other. The walls are painted green over a pink base. The main salon is shown here with red upholstery. Many of the antiques were purchased on the Canary Islands.

The view towards the opposite direction, looking into the library.

The library with views through to the dining room. Heavy double doors open up to each room.

Just gorgeous! I can’t imagine how beautiful this room must look in the evening. The adjoining blue room is the stairhall. The door at the opposite end of the dining room is now closed up – the once public neighboring room is today the master bedroom.

The main hall with Wedgewood blue walls and striped silk curtains. I love the blue mixed with red. Gollut took one look at the house and decided this room must be Wedgewood blue. He is the type of designer who can immediately see how each room should look and then never wavers from that initial vision.

The 44 Carrera marble steps are the focal point of the house. Simply stunning!!!

Look at the hand painted ceiling!!!

Off the dining room is the newly created master suite with its large Flemish tapestry.

The second main bedroom.

This apartment gives you a view to Christophe Gollut’s aesthetic: classic, timeless, and tasteful.

He and Min Hogg have been life long friends.

Here they are…talking. Oh, to be a fly on the wall. Min looks quite serious!!

It was Christophe who discovered Gran Canaria in the Canary Islands and then shared it with Min.

Gran Canaria – the beaches ring the island whose center is high in the mountains. It takes one day to drive around the entire island along its beaches. Las Palmas is the largest city on the islands. Where the yellow star is – is where our story takes place, a bit inland, a bit in the hills.

Christophe Gollut was first to create his vacation house on Gran Canaria. Min Hogg followed her friend there and together they both have wonderful second homes.

Gran Canaria is a mix of sandy beaches with hotels and quiet towns where there are no hotels or tourists.

Las Palmas is the capital of Gran Canaria. Here, this photograph captures its colorful stucco houses and buildings.

Mogan is a colorful fishing town whose streets have arches to hold up the bougainvillea. The island is one large hill!

The bougainvillea is so beautiful on the island.

Playa de Maspalomas, the 10 mile stretch of beach whose sand has drifted here over the Atlantic Ocean from Africa’s Sahara Desert.

Guayadeque – a ravine in the hills beyond the small village where Min and Christophe live. In the older days, wealthy residents would have summer houses in the hills where they would stay during the hotter months. The area is now a National Park and is filled with secret prehistoric caves where the Guanches, natives of the islands, once lived.

Original caves where people once lived.

An older house in the hills – with the dark volcanic stone mixed in with the stucco.

In the 15th century, King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Spain conquered the seven islands. It was here at this mansion that Christopher Columbus would stay before sailing the Atlantic to the Americas.

Miguel Flores-Vianna took this photo on Gran Canaria.

The town where Min Hogg and Christophe Gollut live is called Ingenio. Located somewhat inland it is a quiet town without a hotel and with no tourists.

The main church in Ingenio, where Min lives. Her house is right around the corner from it. Beautiful black urns are filled with bright purple flowers.

Inside the church. There is the main altar, along with altars on both sides - see below:

Miguel Flores-Vianna photographed this side altar showing Christ with the cross.

The streets of Ingenio are decorated with different patterns made of the tiles.

These houses are painted blue and purple with orange to end up at the bottom of the hill with a white house and green door.

These houses are pink and orange and white. The dark volcanic stone mixed with stucco is typically found all over the island.

Christophe Gollut’s house is the large white one on the left. He joined three townhouses together to create his vacation house. Located on a square, it is right next to a park. The façade is said to be a copy of Christopher Columbus’s house.

An early photo from a street in Ingenio. It looks a lot like Christophe’s – maybe before renovation?

The houses are built around interior courtyards, where the farm animals once used to live.

Christophe Gollut’s front door with its stone surround and stone drive.

Here is his interior courtyard with its arched doorways and lilac walls.

I wish I had fabulous photographs from Christophe’s Gran Canaria house, but most are from poor, old magazine scans.

A better photo of the lavender colored courtyard.

An alcove in Gollut’s courtyard holds urns and antique glass inside the arch.

The rooftops of his townhouse became gardens. His roof has a painted floor, in light and dark pink, to mimic tile. The area beyond the wall is another roof top, not used as a garden space. Stairs on the left lead down to the courtyard. Bougainville grows wild on the island. A turquoise arched door leads inside.

From Facebook…a more recent photo of the rooftop garden, so green and pink!

The rooftop garden styled for a magazine.

And yet one more from another direction with a view of an even higher roof garden.

This area of the garden is set under an straw awning. Above is a higher level of the roof garden.

The entry hall to Gollut’s house – faux stone wall painted yellow. A door with a transom leads to a room. Across the hall is another room through a paneled double door.

Across the hall – the other door is paneled.

The main sitting room is pink – a shade found all over Gran Canaria. So lovely! In the corner, an antique screen sits on a tabletop. Different styles of French chairs sit atop antique rugs.

This room is located on the second floor – with the windows overlooking the front street and the side of the house.

The arched windows to the outdoors have interior wood shutters.

A detail of the corner – with its beautiful gilt French chair covered in a pink and white check. A wood table is covered with a cloth.

This is the room that is the focal point of all the magazine photospreads – and no wonder why! It’s a beautiful collection of French furniture in a tropical environment.

This view shows more of the sofa against the windows.

This view from an old magazine shoot – shows the other sofa against the side wall flanked by the French chairs. This window overlooks the side of the house.

A long hallway from the entry. The windows on the left look into the guest bedroom. French sconces light the hall. In the center is an oil painting and console table, below:

The oil painting and console in the entry hallway. You can see that the walls are actually the pink color. I adore the scalloped frame!

The window on the left overlooks the front hall. Two French brass beds.

A larger view of the double bedroom.

The master bedroom is grand, with a stone fireplace and antique furniture. There is a large tapestry hanging behind the bed. The Egyptian bedspread covers the Empire bed during the day to create a sofa.

Another bedroom has a canopy bed with wallpapered walls. There is an odd window up high. Remember this is an old house – actually three houses combined together.

A view from the bedroom into the hall and down to the red painted staircase – the only photo of the interior stairs that I could find. Notice the framed painting on the right has a similar pattern to the paper. And notice the two door frames in wood with a small urn atop it. So unusual!!

Another view from a magazine of the dining room styled differently.

I wish the photographs were better!!!

An interesting loft area over the living room and under an original roof with wood beams. A red and white striped rug with yellow walls. Notice the built in cabinets and the arched window.

Min Hogg tells the story of how she landed in Gran Canaria in the 2017 Fall Issue of Milieu. The beautiful photographs were taken by the phenomenon Miguel Flores-Vianna who has a particularly good eye at capturing the homes of aesthetes like Min and Carolina Irving, another whose house he photographed for Milieu.

This month, Vianna’s long awaited book was released – called Haute Bohemians - it is filled with the most interesting places owned by the most intriguing people, artists, designers, and others with enviable good taste.

The book is a stunning collection of photographs and Min’s house is a standout. Her spread in Milieu was timed to coordinate with the book’s release date and everyone has been gushing with praise over both Min’s house and the book.

Min photographed on the cobbled streets near her house – again, there is the characteristic black lava stones from the island’s volcano mixed with white stucco.

Min discovered the island and the town Ingenio when she visited her great friend Christophe Gollut. They were walking along the cobbled streets and alleys when she saw a double wood door with an opened padlock hanging from it. She and Christophe were curious and peeked inside to see what lay beyond the door. It was a courtyard with a green painted balcony that ran along the upper floor, along with a large palm tree. For years, the courtyard had been used to stable the animals, whose sheds remained off to the side. The house was a complete ruin, but Min was intrigued. She quickly found the owner who agreed to sell it. Christophe had restored his own house just six years prior, so he was a great help in introducing Min to all the tradespeople and translating their Spanish into English.

Min’s house. The walls are pink with accented black doors and windows.

When Min bought the house - thought to be around 200 years old – there was no glass in the windows, just shutters. There was also no electricity, water, or drains. It took seven months to completely restore the house – all done while she lived in London. It is a four hour plane trip from London to the Canary Islands and Min visits just three times a year. I looked on Air BnB to see if she rents this beauty out – but no such luck!!

A close up of the front door.

Originally all the rooms lead directly to the courtyard or the verandah but there was no connections between the rooms, internally. To rectify this, Min had doors punched through the rooms – their stucco walls are over 2 feet thick! She created three bedrooms, each with a bathroom, for herself and guests. She also created a connection between the dining area of the main room and the kitchen by making a hatch window in the stucco wall. She also moved the kitchen from the ground floor up to the main floor. The former kitchen is now a garden cum laundry room.

The front hall with its geranium leaf-green painted doors and yellow walls. Her bedroom is to the right.

A glimpse of Min’s master bedroom with her French bed.

The main sitting room! I’m hopelessly in love with this room and would love to live here always!!! The rug is a red and white stripped dhurri. In the center is red and white striped ottoman that divides the room into two areas. The walls are a fabulous pink with green trim. While it resembles Christophe Gollut’s drawing room in Ingenio, Min’s is a bit more fanciful. I can’t decide if she has one or two chandeliers? She added the crystals to it, bit by bit. I think she has two. I love this blue and white lamp with the pleated shade!

A smaller view without all the magazine printing over it.

Much of the furniture was bought in France and shipped to London. She collected everything for months and then sent it all together to Gran Canaria when the renovation was complete. There are two French sofas and a wonderful painted screen. One sofa wears an antique rug, the other is covered by old curtains from her mother’s house.

A close up of the sofa and screen. LOVE!!!!!!

This view seems to confirm that there are two large identical chandeliers in this room.

The adorable Min looks perfectly Spanish in her striped T-shirt.

The dining area. The table was made on the island. The blue chairs are modern.

An earlier photo of the dining room before the blue chairs and the green cushions were added.

Notice a large difference between this house and her London apartment? Here, there are no prints or paintings hanging on the walls. In London, there is not one inch of wall left uncovered by art work. Here, Min said the house called for plain walls. And, I do think she is right.

Another think she is right about? The chandelier. The size is extra large – since the room is also. And I love how it is so curvy and feminine – the curves are juxtaposed against the strict rectangular shape of the room. Whether she has one or two, I love her choice.

The new kitchen – with everything exposed to the eye, just as Min likes it.

Her bedroom with the toile headboard. The woodwork was painted turquoise in this room and the floor boards are white.

An earlier view shows a different bedspread. At the window is her curtains. I think I like the checked bedspread better. Of course. Give me a check any time!!!

One of the guest rooms. She bought all this fabric in a souk in Cairo. Behind the curtain is the bathroom. I love all the antique French furniture!!!! It makes the house look so chic!!

A third bedroom in green and white. Through the curtain behind the bed is the bathroom.

The bathroom with a gilt mirror and antique porcelain toothbrush holder. Elegance!!

Min with her godchild in the same blue and green bedroom.

The green painted verandah that lines the upper floor. The chaise is where Min watches the sun set.

The courtyard with its cobbled steps. Her green checked chaise can be seen here at the left.

And another Instagram view of the courtyard with its cobbled steps and what looks like a blue plumbago plant? More bougainvillea everywhere. Notice the tiny green window in the upper wall on the right.

This old photo shows the town as it once was with the donkeys and cats and dogs. Love this photo!!

This looks a lot of Min’s courtyard with the verandah, the roof, the cobbled street.

I hate to leave this story! I’ve been so obsessed with Min and her two houses, especially this one with the glorious photograph of her living room by Miguel Flores-Vianna. Finding the photos of Christophe Gollut’s Gran Canaria living room which resembled Min’s but in a dressier way, made me obsess over these two houses even more!!

Christophe Gollut’s Gran Canaria living room – pink with gray, filled with French furniture.

And Min Hogg’s Gran Canaria pink living room – all red stripes and toiles and crystal chandelier. Sophisticated fun!!!!

To read more:

The new Milieu. Subscribe HERE.

Or Order by clicking on this photo below:

To order Miguel Flores-Vianna’s book with Min Hogg, Carolina Herrera, Marion McEvoy and a host of other fabulous houses, click on the photo below.

CLICK ON THE BOOK TO ORDER.

Christophe Gollut’s web site HERE.

Min Hogg’s web site HERE.

GET THE LOOK:

FRENCH NAPKINS ANTIQUE HERE

MOROCCAN POM POM BLANKET HERE

FRENCH 19TH CENTURY BISTRO TABLE HERE

SUZANI BIRD SPREAD HERE

ANTIQUE SALT GLAZE TOBACCO JARS, PAIR HERE

from COTE DE TEXAS http://cotedetexas.blogspot.com/2017/10/chic-on-gran-canaria.html

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