Chapter 4
“Tu as vingt et un?” he asks. Bizarrely, this is one of the phrases I remember from the class for some reason.
“I’ll be twenty-two in two days.”
“Birthday in Paris. Sounds planned.”
“Very much so.”
We paid our check already, but have half the bottle left to finish.
He leans forward, the bottle of sparkling wine and two plates with no food left on them remain on the table between us.
Resting his head on his hand, he looks me over again.
I blush, still not used to how intensely he stares at me.
“Why are you alone in Paris on your birthday?”
I turn the champagne glass around on top of the small wooden table. “Because I couldn’t find anyone to come with me.”
Sitting back, he scans the bistro. When I look around, I notice it’s crowded, more so now than when we arrived. Couples surround us, their love evident by how they speak to each other in whispers and body language. I ask, “Who was that girl yesterday?”
By how his eyes stay focused on his lap, I determine this might be a touchy subject, but the slap is a bigger indicator than that. Topping off my glass, he says, “An ex-girlfriend.”
“When did you break it off with the ex?”
Waving his finger, affirming my point, he replies, “I might have forgotten that step.”
With a laugh, I pick up my glass, and say, “It’s an important step.” I take a couple of sips and set the glass back down.
Olivier rubs his cheek as if he can still feel the burn. “I have learned that lesson.”
“The hard way.” When he looks at me curiously, I quickly add, “That’s just a phrase. You got slapped. That’s the hard way to learn a lesson.”
“The more painful way.”
“Yes.”
“And you? Are there exes in your past?”
Shyly, I look back at the bubbles in my glass. “One or two.”
“No more than that?”
“I study. A lot.”
“For what?”
After taking another sip, I reply, “For me. I have to be the best.”
“Why?”
“Because coming in second sucks.”
He chuckles. “You are tight, Kandace.”
“Tight?” I try to figure out what that means. “Ohhh, you mean uptight?”
“Yes, this uptight. That is you. Have you ever not planned and just acted before?”
“Sure,” I say, shrugging and hoping I believe my own answers.
“What about love? Have you loved? Deeply?”
“I’ve loved,” I reply a little on the snarky side and with a half eye-roll.
“I don’t know if I believe you.”
“I don’t care what you believe.” I direct my attention outside to the sidewalk and the people passing by.
“I think you do, but that’s neither here nor there.” He waves his hand dismissively. “I can show you what it means to be free from the shackle you’ve placed around your heart and then, only then, will you discover how to really live life.”
“I don’t have a shackle around my heart. Just because I like to work hard and for that hard work to pay off doesn’t mean I’m not living.”
“That’s the shackle speaking.”
“Shackles don’t speak.” Defensively, I snap, “And I do not have a shackle around my heart.” Leaning forward and with an irritated, hushed tone, I add, “So kindly refrain from talking about my heart or me when you really know nothing about either.”
Running his hand through his hair, his expression warns me I’ve hit a nerve as his aggravation takes over.
“Espèce d’Américaine têtue! Même si elle a les yeux verts les plus sexy qui soient et un corps à faire rêver, elle est frustrante!
” Spoken too fast for me to interpret, he then stands abruptly holding his hand out and says, “We shall leave now.”
“All of that meant you want to leave?”
“No, it meant... never mind. Let’s go.”
With the acceptance of his hand I know I’m agreeing to more than leaving the restaurant.
Maybe it’s the champagne taking over my brain, but I’m okay with that.
This passionate man has stirred all kinds of new sensations within me and if I’m not careful, I just might end up in his bed for more than sleeping tonight. “C’est la vie.”
Hand in hand, we walk out the door. Outside, we walk down the street in the opposite direction of the hostel. “Where are we going?” I ask.
“C’est la vie, Kandace.”
And like that, I let Olivier lead.
The last place I expected to end up was in a loud, extremely crowded neon light flashing nightclub in the bowels of some dirty part of Paris. This is what I get for trusting a stranger... practical stranger. Whatever Olivier is to me now.
I stand against the wall where he left me to retrieve drinks.
The couple next to me are so up on each other that I’m not sure laws aren’t being broken.
But maybe French law is looser... like them.
I shake my shoulders hoping to loosen up a bit myself.
When I look toward the bar again, I’ve lost sight of Olivier.
Panicky, I scan the entire length of the metal bar, but don’t find him.
Lifting up on my toes, I search the club for his head above the crowd.
When I still don’t see him, I work my way through the club in the direction of the last place I saw him.
My heart is racing as I hurry around, thinking he might have left me here. I stop at the edge of the dance floor, wondering if he decided to dance with someone... someone other than me.
I’m grabbed by the waist suddenly and his voice is at my ear. “Miss me?”
Calm washes over me as I turn in his arms. “Might have.”
“Good.” He holds me tightly, our faces close, our lips even closer. “I ran into friends. Our drinks are at their table. C’mon.”
I follow him until we’re standing in front of a grouping of modern leather white benches.
Olivier slips around the coffee table and three people part letting him sit down.
He scoots to the side and pats the bench while looking at me.
“Pardonnez-moi,” I say, stepping over their feet and squeeze in next to him.
After introductions they start talking, but it’s loud, too loud to really hear what they’re saying and I don’t think I would understand anyway.
And here I thought a quick semester of basic French would get me by.
I didn’t realize how submerged I’d be in the culture.
I feel fortunate to see the ‘real’ lives of the French people and a little embarrassed of what I imagined their lives to be.
I pictured everyone leading glamorous lives.
They are just like my friends back home.
I giggle to myself and Olivier bumps me. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing really.”
“I like seeing your smile.”
I turn to look at him. “Really?”
“Yes. Really.” His eyelids dip closed before slowly reopening. “I think you’re—”
He’s grabbed by the girl next to him before he finishes his sentence.
Her hand remains holding his arm as I wait patiently.
I watch as he leans in and she presses her mouth to his ear.
He nods and smiles. She laughs with a head toss of her hair.
I touch my own hair wondering what it looks like and hoping it’s not gone frizzy.
Olivier laughs, his attention still on the other girl, but then his hand lands on my leg, giving me a little squeeze.
He says something to her, then sits up bringing his body closer to mine again.
“My apologies,” he starts. “As I was saying, I think you’re very beautiful, but you know this, Kandace. ”
He may have said that before, but it will never get old.
When I look down, my face heating from his sweet attention, the side of my head rubs against his cheek.
I stay, momentarily, liking this too much, liking him too much.
When my eyes meet his again, I see the devil.
Trouble never looked so tempting. My breath weighs down on my chest and I lick my lips in preparation. ..
His gaze lands on my mouth and I can almost feel the sweet pressure of his lips kissing mine. “Drink?” he asks, holding his empty glass.
“Olivier?” the guy on the other side of me calls him, shaking his empty beer bottle.
They chat a moment and he stands. The moment is lost, so when he looks to me again with questioning eyes, I reply, “Oui.” Meaning yes to anything and everything with him, but I’ll take a drink for starters.
As soon as Olivier is gone, the guy next to me leans closer. “Only English?”
“Juste un peu de francais.” I smile and use my hands to show just a little French.
“My name is Savi.” His own smile is big, but a little on the smarmy side. “I’ve been to LA and Las Vegas.”
“I’ve never been to either. I’m an East Coast girl. Are they nice?”
“They are fun. Pretty women.” He holds his hands in front of his chest to signal big boobs. Fortunately, he doesn’t say it.
Feeling uneasy, I shift. “I should help Olivier carry the drinks.”
His words are rushed, but I hear him say, “Do you like sex?”
Shocked, I ask, “What?
“Make love. Have you let a Frenchman make love to you?”
I stand. “I’ve gotta go.” Working my way out of the group, I head toward the bar.
I find Olivier just as he turns. His expression coats my insides, making me wonder if it’s possible to fall in love with someone in less than forty-eight hours.
Maybe anything is possible in Paris. It is the most romantic city in the world, after all.
With the drinks between us, he leans in and whispers, “One more drink, then we go.”
“Yes, that will be good.”
Dropping the beer off to Savi, Olivier takes me back to the bench to sit. The next thirty minutes is like a sexercise in patience... I mean exercise. The sparkling wine makes me feel lighter than I’ve felt in ages. Looser too, but I blame that on Paris, not the alcohol.
The group is friendly. Savi is more friendly than most. I giggle when he flirts with me and Olivier possessively wraps his arm around my shoulders. Leaning back against his chest, I say, “J’adore Paris.”
His warm breath hits the shell of my ear, and he replies, “Paris t’adore.”
Awww. Paris adores me. “What about you?”
“I find you utterly irresistible.” His arm tightens. “Ready?”
“To go? Yes.”
“I meant for another drink since yours is almost gone, but I like your idea better.”
I laugh, completely embarrassed. “I’m not always so forward.
” I finish my drink and find myself gravitating toward him as if there was space that still existed between us.
The close confines of the crowded bench only heighten our connection.
Olivier’s hand rubs gently down my thigh and back up.
It slides again, taking the skirt of my dress with him.
My breath catches in my throat but I like it, so I roll with it.
He stops and stands abruptly. With a wave, he speaks loudly to the group, “Au revoir.” Reaching down he takes my hand, helping me up.
The music seems louder as the hour has gotten later.
We don’t talk on our way out of the club.
Our words will just be lost in the beat anyway.
But as soon as we reach the sidewalk, he looks at me, no smile at all.
Instead, it’s a look that makes me want to do dirty things that will make me burn with regret in the morning.
What has come over me?
A hand with bad intentions rubs my lower back reminding me exactly what has come over me.
He flags down a taxi and we get in quickly.
Both of us on the same determined heat wave, leading us straight back to the hostel.
Listening to him direct the driver makes me feel safe and taken care of.
His hand slides over and takes hold of mine again as he eases back and looks out the window.
There’s a confidence that appears to come easy for him and I find it so sexy.
“Top bunk or bottom bunk?” I ask, wanting to break the silence as my nerves start to kick in.
“What do you mean, Rayon de Soleil Américain?”
“Bad joke.”
“Joke?” he asks.
I smile, squeezing his hand, then shake my head. “Never mind. I was being silly.”
The cab comes to a stop out front and I pay this time. “I’ve got this.”
After paying we slip out and walk inside.
The lobby is empty and I’m glad for the reprieve from Stefan and his crazy antics tonight.
We sneak upstairs... or it feels like we’re sneaking upstairs though I’m pretty sure that no one cares what we’re doing or about to do.
Olivier unlocks the door and pulls me in quickly behind him.
The door is shut and I’m pushed against it.
With eyes closed, his hands settle on my waist as he rubs his cheek against mine.
With our bodies pressed together, I take a deep breath, inhaling him into my system before releasing all my inhibitions.