Chapter 25
I stand on the very edge of the concrete bank of the Seine, my toes poking over just a little. We have a gorgeous view of the Eiffel Tower, just beyond the Pont Alexandre we’d been standing on way earlier in the night. So much has changed since then.
The majestic Notre-Dame is illuminated right across the water, and the first rays of sunlight are turning the rooftops of Paris pink.
“Oh my God, Ben, be careful!” says Tyler, his voice tight. “You could fall in!”
I turn and smile at him over my shoulder. “Wow, your fear has gotten even worse, hasn’t it?” I say.
This ledge isn’t even that high. It’s maybe about five feet above the greenish-blackish surface of the river.
“Come on and see,” I say gently, relishing the chance to be the chivalrous one for once. “I won’t let you fall in. I’ll protect you.”
I reach out my hand. But instead of taking it, he gives me his ripped hoodie. “Put this out like a blanket,” he says.
Grinning, I spread the hoodie out on the ledge. Tyler then proceeds to hand me each baguette—still warm, bordering on hot—and wheel of cheese and the marmalade jar. I set up the picnic as prettily as I can and take a seat next to it, dangling my legs off the edge.
I reach over and pat the concrete on the other side of the hoodie invitingly. “Okay, now come and join me,” I urge him.
Sweating, Tyler gets down on his hands and knees. Something about a handsome, athletic, man-sized boy slowly crawling a few feet across the ground strikes me as over-the-top adorable.
“Mon Dieu!” I say, laughing. “We don’t have to sit right on the ledge!”
“No, no,” he pants. “You wanted a picnic along the Seine, and this is what a picnic along the Seine means.”
Gritting his teeth, he awkwardly unfolds his body into a sitting position on the ledge, letting his long legs hang off. Once he gets settled, he relaxes a little, sighs, and grins at me. I reach over and squeeze his hand.
“Thanks for being the best scooter-chauffeur ever,” I say.
“Thanks for letting me be your sidekick tonight,” he says, and I laugh, because he’s been so much more than that. He rubs his hands together. “All right, shall we start our breakfast?”
“Hell yeah.”
I grab one of the lightsaber-length baguettes and eagerly break it in half. The crrrrrrk! sound effect is way louder than I expected, almost as if it’s amplified over the water.
“Oh yeah, that sounds like the good stuff,” says Tyler, breaking his baguette in half, too.
Steam flies out of the fleshy middle of the bread, and I take a big, crunchy bite. That first bite is an explosion, a whole earthquake, as my teeth break through the hard crust of the baguette with a satisfying series of cracks before I reach the soft, stretchy middle.
“Ah, hot!” I say, letting some of the heat out through an O I make with my lips.
Tyler laughs. “The roof of my mouth is all raw. I feel like I just ate two bowls of Cap’n Crunch.”
“You know what would cool this off? Some cheese.”
“Yeah, break me off a piece of that Brie,” says Tyler.
I break off a chunk. Tyler opens his mouth wide for me to feed him directly. When I dangle it over his mouth, he takes a big chomp, enveloping some of my fingers with his lips.
“Gross, man!” I say. “I haven’t washed my hands all night.”
“Whatever,” he mumbles through his full mouth. “We’ve shared plenty of germs tonight.”
I laugh. Our banter has gotten so much easier since the night began. It’s funny to think back to our initial awkwardness. “I guess you’re right about that,” I agree, leaning over to kiss his cheek, just because I can.
“Don’t distract me from the food,” Tyler tells me, a smile in his voice. I watch as he opens the jar of marmalade with a little pop. There’s no knife, so he dumps out a small glob over a hunk of bread and cheese and stuffs it all into his mouth.
“Yep, mm-hmm,” he says, nodding. “Now that’s the combination.”
“Whatever floats your boat,” I say. “I’ll take your word for it.”
I combine another piece of baguette with a chunk of Brie, and the simple combination sets my neurons on fire.
It’s so simple, bread and cheese—but it’s the most satisfying sensation I’ve ever had.
It’s almost as if the universe knows I’ve taken one of the best bites of my life, because in that moment, a sliver of electric-pink sunlight peeks over the horizon.
Sitting with my feet over the Seine with my childhood best friend while the sun rises—it doesn’t get much better.
Tyler’s face is bathed in the almost-neon glow of the morning sun.
He stops chewing his baguette even though his mouth is still full; he just sits there, closes his eyes.
I let him have his moment and I have one, too.
This moment is so absurdly perfect that I could literally get on a plane back to Atlanta today and have no regrets—not that I ever want to.
I have three more days in Paris with Tyler.
Sure, we’ll be with the rest of the French Club, but they’ll just have to watch as our brand-new relationship blooms.
I wonder if this is exactly how Mom and Dad felt on their honeymoon, three years before I was born.
Full of life, full of possibility—like they’d each found their soulmate.
Like they’d finally found something real, in a magical city that was all the more magical because they knew they couldn’t stay there forever.
“Have some of the pinot noir marmalade,” says Tyler, interrupting my reverie.
I turn to him. His mouth is full, and he looks lovably goofy. “No thanks,” I say.
“No, taste it,” he insists. “It tastes just like grape.”
“I know—that’s the problem,” I crack. “No one likes grape jelly.”
“I think you will, though,” says Tyler.
I roll my eyes. “Geez, you’re really not used to people saying no to you, are you?”
“Just try it—for me. It’s really good.”
He gives me his shiny-eyed stare, which I can’t resist. I sigh. “Fine. But you’re wasting one of my precious bites.”
I grab a messy hunk of Brie with my fingers and smash it onto the bread. I wait as Tyler dumps a generous dollop of purple marmalade onto it. The marmalade makes an attractive swirl with the Brie as it melts into the bread, looking a little like a dessert.
I shovel it into my mouth.
CRRRRK!
As soon as the salty-sweet combo hits my palate, a vibration runs through my body, sort of like how I felt when I was looking at the stingray painting at the Louvre. But the sensation is stronger this time, and it’s like time has fallen away, and I’m transported somewhere far, far away.