I hear him sigh, but he doesn’t respond. My heart crunches. Our conversation at Aunt Vivienne’s house about his feelings on passions comes back to me, and I worry that I’ve said the wrong thing. “I have to go,” I say, checking the clock on the wall.
“Okay. Well, bye, Mia.”
I take a deep breath, my finger already hovering over the “End Call” button. But something stops me.
“Louis?”
“Yes?” he says quickly.
“Can you promise me something?” I feel a grin spread across my face. “It’s just lunch. Tomorrow, for one hour only. And, no matter what happens, we’re not taking a trip to the French countryside.”
He laughs. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve heard in all of Paris. “I promise, Mia. But just this once.”
Can’t stop, won’t stop smiling.
IT’S NOT UNTILthe end of my morning classes the next day that I fully appreciate it: I’m going on a date with Louis. Anactualdate. Sure, we’ve had lunch and explored Paris together before, but this feels more real. Maybe it’s because you usually go on a few dates with someone before introducing them to your great-great-aunt.
I put on the outfit I planned out this morning: a white skirt, a black tank top, and a gold bracelet. Then I use a liberal amount of dry shampoo on my hair, apply concealer under my eyes and my favorite rose-tinted lip balm on my lips. I smile at my reflection in the mirror. I wanted to look nice, but not like Itriedto look nice.
I peek outside the locker rooms before I exit, feeling totally silly doing it. Usually I have lunch with Lucy, Anouk, and a few other girls from their class. Audrey will only mingle with girls from level five, but there’s no love lost there. I prefer taking a break with people who can relax a little.
“I have some errands to run during lunch,” I told Lucy at breakfast. “Don’t wait for me, I’ll just grab a sandwich on the way.”
She gave me a quizzical look. “What kind of errands?”
“Just…stuff,” I said, wishing I had prepared a better story.
It’s not like me to keep secrets. In fact, I’ve always been an open book: I started dancing at two years old and instantly decided that that’s all I ever wanted to do. Since then, I’ve told anyone who would listen that I would become a professional ballet dancer. I never lied to my parents about having a sleepover at a friend’s house when we actually went out to party. I never said I’d finished my homework when I hadn’t. In fact, I rushed to do it so I could spend my evenings and weekends dancing. I didn’t need to make things up; everyone around me always knew what I was up to.
“Stuff?” Lucy asked in a slightly mocking tone. And then, like something clicked in her head: “Do you need tampons?” she whispered. “Because I have some.”
“No—I…” I almost blurted out everything, but I stopped myself. I couldn’t tell Lucy that I was meeting a guy for lunch in the middle of a school day, because I wasn’t prepared to admit it to myself.
Instead, I sheepishly told her that I needed to get some allergy medicine. From Lucy’s expression, I could tell it worked.Bingo.
When I arrive at our meeting spot, I realize that Louis didn’t give me the address of a café or a restaurant. In fact, as I stand halfway down a nondescript street, I check on my phone that I’m where I’m supposed to be. There are a couple of tall, glass-walled office buildings behind me, and cars parked along the street. A bus drives past and stops just a few feet away. People get on, others get off, and I’m starting to have doubts about this date. But then I spot Louis walking toward me and I smile.
He smiles back, and any concern I had about slipping out of school is gone. I take in his outfit—his signature creased linen shirt, light blue chinos, and floppy hair. By now it feels both totally familiar and still kind of…sexy. He’s also carrying a wicker basket. White cloth napkins and a bottle of sparkling water peek out of it, but it’s the baguette I zoom in on, my mouth already watering. When I’m back home, I’m going to find a way to import these to Westchester. Now that I’ve gotten a taste of straight-out-of-the-oven baguettes, I’m not living without them for another day.
For the first time, I don’t flinch when Louis leans in to kiss me on the cheeks. I’m cool. I’m your totally blaséParisiennewho’s meeting her handsome date for a romantic lunch like it’s no big deal. And now that I’ve masteredla bise,I try to go as slowly as possible to feel the warmth of Louis’s skin against mine. He smells like the outdoors. Like sunshine and sweat and something woodsy I can’t place.
“I was kind of hoping you’d be wearing a pink leotard, maybe even a tutu,” he says with a sparkle in his eyes.
I blush. “Oh yeah?”
My reddening cheeks only make him tease me harder. “Yeah. I bet you look totally…” He pauses and looks into my eyes. I’m yearning for him to finish his sentence. “Like a ballerina,” he adds mischievously.
I laugh to hide my slight disappointment. “I can confirm that I definitely look like a ballerina in my leotard.”
“Good,” he says, still staring at me. “I guess I’ll just have to keep imagining.”
The world around us comes to a halt. Everything goes quiet. Sometimes I think I’m imagining Louis. Because I had no idea a guy could make me feel like this. I never want it to stop.
“Mademoiselle,” Louis says, offering me his arm. Fine, I’ll come back to earth, I think, hooking mine through it.
Then he points at a green metal stairwell off to the side, behind me.“Par ici,”he says, leading me up the steps.Right this way.
“What is this?” I ask when we get to the top. We’re at the start of a narrow pathway, lined by many plants, trees, and benches. Above us, an archway covered in greenery makes it feel like an oasis in the middle of the city.
