Gripping her hand in one of mine, I twirl her body around. The laughter of joy that escapes her is the best melody I could ever hear. Pulling her flush against my body, her back against my chest, I sway us slightly in the rain.
A smile lifts my face as I dance with the only girl who would ever make me stay outside during a storm. Our hair sticks to our foreheads along with our clothes on our bodies. We look like drowned cats. But we don’t care.
Her hair fans out beautifully when I twirl her around.
“You’re a dream,” she says hoarsely when her forehead touches mine.
“You’re my prayer,” I whisper back just as quietly.
I don’t know how long we stand out here, but we continue to dance in the rain.
Before I met Trinity, I thought true love didn’t exist. I would laugh at the idea. Now, I crave her love. I’m obsessed with the way she makes me love myself again. I wouldn’t want this with anyone else. Trinity brings out the best in me.
She’s filled that hole in my chest that I always thought would be empty and dark. She’s shown me that life is worth living.
She’s the color in my pictures, the sugar in my candy, the words in my books, the sunshine on a sunny day, the star in my midnight sky …
The blood running through my veins.
My rock star.
SIXTY
TRINITY
The City of Love.
I’ve heard tons about this place—the people, the accents, the food, the architecture. I never thought I could visit Paris. I always dreamed of seeing the Eiffel Tower from a hotel window.
As I stand in front of the window, the cool breeze hitting my face, I feel like I’m living in a dream. I’m staring directly at the Eiffel Tower. Not to mention, it’s not far; it’s right in my face. This top-floor hotel room must have cost a fortune. The red geraniums resting in a window box below me is exactly how I imagined Paris to be.
Grand, peaceful, and expensive-looking.
I’ve been here for two hours, and I already love it. I can imagine myself here in the future, walking down the sidewalks with an iced coffee in my hand. Hearing French people talk gives me butterflies. Their fashion sense is immaculate, like expected. I haven’t seen one person wearing sweatpants. They all wear well-known designer brands.
Maybe I should buy nicer clothes while we visit Paris. Otherwise, I’ll definitely stick out like a sore thumb.
Tonight, X3 has a concert in Paris. That’s why we’re here in the first place.
At first, I was worried about them. I hate the thought of them being a target up on that stage. Leonidas constantly told me I had nothing to worry about, that they had top-notch security. That made the butterflies in my stomach go away, but not fully.
See, Leonidas has no problem going onstage, but I see the way Elijah reacts. His face turns white; his fingers fiddle with one another. He frankly looks sick to his stomach at just the thought.
I want to give him a hug, but I don’t think that would help him. The last thing I want to do is embarrass him.
Plus, it might just be a fear he needs to fight at his pace.
“Daydreaming about your long-lost love again?” Leonidas’s husky voice speaks lowly from behind me. His chest leans against my back, and his arms cage me.
Leonidas … we’re right in front of a window. That thought repeats constantly in my head as his lips brush against my neck.
Do I really care at this exact moment? Yes and no.
Yes, because I really like privacy.
No, because I love the way his lips feel.
“I just saw him,” I whisper, arching my neck as he smirks against my skin.
