Louis grimaces with mock outrage. “You can’t just get ice cream from anywhere. There’s only one place in Paris for ice cream. Trust me, even their vanilla is extraordinary.”
“I trust you,” I say with a laugh.
So off on the Vespa we go. As we drive across half of the city, most of it along the Seine, I remember a conversation we had at the dorm about the best food places in Paris. Bestcrêpes, best desserts, best café, best traditionalbistrot…we’ve been swapping addresses on our WhatsApp group, and I’m pretty sure an ice cream place was mentioned.
It comes back to me as soon as we park near two wooden-clad shop fronts facing each other on a narrow street, with “Berthillon” written in gothic lettering at the top. A dozen people wait in line outside, and many more snake around the corner. That’s it. Lucy, Anouk, and I tried to come here one night—it’s a short walk from the dorm—but we were too tired to wait.
Today the line moves surprisingly quickly. Once it’s our turn, we have a hard time choosing between the wide range of flavors. Louis opts for a raspberry and peach sorbet, while I decide to pair the aforementioned vanilla with salted caramel.
Afterward, we walk around Île Saint-Louis, licking our already melting scoops as fast as we can. We stop off to the side of the bridge—Pont de la Tournelle—to enjoy the view of the water.
I point at the cone in my hand. “You were right, by the way—this is the least ‘vanilla’ vanilla ice cream I’ve ever tasted.”
Louis frowns.
“You know,” I explain, “it’s not vanilla at all? It’s flavorful and distinct.”
More frowning.
“I don’t get it,” Louis says, looking from me to my ice cream. “Itisvanilla, so it shouldtastelike vanilla,non?”
We stare at each other for a beat, and then it finally hits me. “We call something ‘vanilla’ when it’s kind of bland. Boring. Basic.”
Louis nods. “Ha! So you’re like, the opposite of vanilla.”
“Very funny,” I say, gently hitting him on the arm.
“I mean it,” Louis replies, taking hold of the hand that just touched him. He rubs his fingers along my palm, and I shiver.
Then he leans toward me, just as his phone beeps.
I sigh. He mentioned that he’s meeting Max later, but I don’t want him to go yet.
Louis bites his bottom lip. “It’s Max,” he says, checking his phone. “Hmm, maybe I can meet him tonight instead. I’ll call him.”
He takes a few steps away as he begins to talk. I decide to check my own phone. Our group text has blown up with dozens of new messages since this morning. I flick through to the end, and my heart drops to my stomach.
Anyone here at the dorm?Lucy said fifteen minutes ago.We’re walking over to Berthillon now, if you want to join.
I look around, spinning to get a good view of all the people walking by. Louis has disappeared off in the crowded space, and I take a few steps left and right, reassuring myself that everything is fine. Île Saint-Louis is a pretty small island, but what are the chances that my friends saw Louis and me?
I guess I’m about to find out, because here they are—Lucy, Anouk, Audrey, and a few others from the dorm, each holding an ice cream cone—right on the other side of the street. I consider hiding behind a group, but it’s too late. Lucy’s eyes dart in my direction. She waves at me, tentativelyat first, and then, certain it’s really me, her face brightens.
I jog toward the group, away from Louis, who, last I saw, was still on the phone.
“That’s a gorgeous outfit,” Lucy says, studying me head to toe. Then her gaze stops at the paper napkin stamped “Berthillon” in my hand.
“They’re delicious, right? I had the vanilla and salted caramel. So amazing! I could have another one,” I say quickly, not catching my breath.
“Where are your aunts?” Anouk asks, looking around me. I follow her gaze, but Louis is nowhere to be seen.
“I—I just left them. We had an ice cream and then—”
“They disappeared,” Anouk finishes for me, her tone slightly mocking.
“I was actually on my way back to the dorm,” I say.
We all start wandering off in that direction, and I force myself not to glance back. I don’t know what Louis saw, but I can explain to him later.
