I got out of bed, locking myself in the bathroom. I prepared myself for the day, trying to not think of tracking down Zandra. It would be for her safety, but I could understand why it could seem creepy to her, especially since she didn’t seem to be as captivated by me as I was captivated by her.
She must have gone to the Louvre.
I got ready in record time. I stepped out of the hostel, prepared to go to the Louvre, act like I was shocked to see Zandra there and convince her that I was worth a little more of her time.
I nearly walked right past her.
She sat on the bench right outside of the hostel, sitting on top of the hill that looked over a small section of the outer boundaries of the city. I walked over to her, adjusting my bag on my shoulder.
“Hey,” I said. I attempted to sound like I'd come across her without intending to, but it was hard to suppress the fact that seeing her again made me realize how much more time I wanted to spend with her. I didn't just want to know about her childhood fears. I wanted to know more about her hopes, her opinions, the things that made her angry, the moments that made her sad, her favorite shows and her favorite music. And her body. I wanted to know that better than any other man ever would.
She nearly jumped but burst into a smile as she saw me. "Hey. I was just watching the sunrise. It’s not the best view, but it’s great watching the city transform.”
I sat down beside her. She was dressed in a white camisole and loose cotton pants. It was the most relaxed I’d seen her.
The sun continued to creep up. We watched silently. Her hand was so close to mine. Her pinky was slightly kinked upward. It would have been easy to slip my hand around hers, but all her focus was on the city and I didn’t want to break her reverie.
After nearly ten minutes had passed, she turned to me. Her hands were cupped together like she was trying to hold onto something I couldn't see.
“Throughout my life, I’ve found that whenever I have expectations for things, they end up screwing me over," she said. "Things are never as good as I expect them to be. When I was fifteen, I decided I had to go to Paris one day and I started working toward getting enough money for plane tickets, for lodging, for food, and to visit the tourist attractions."
I opened my mouth to commend her dedication, but she continued. I closed my mouth.
“I worked in my parent’s bakery, but I also invented jobs to get every penny possible. I went door-to-door, taking people’s plastic bottles to return them in exchange for a percent of the money they received, I cooked meals for my elderly neighbors, I planned game nights for the neighborhood kids—I’d do anything for money. I mean, not anything, but I’d do a lot."
"I believe it," I said. She gave me half of a smile, but the other half of her mouth struggled to join in on the smile. I wasn't certain where the story was going, but anxiety built up in my chest as it progressed.
“I was more creative coming up with jobs than anything I created for art class. After three years of working as hard as I could, it would be so easy for Paris to be a letdown. How could anything live up to three years’ worth of work and expectation?"
I was certain the other shoe was about to drop—she was going to tell me she was going to leave Paris. She was going to tell me that she was pretending to enjoy our time together, but she was ready to return to the United States. She was going to say she was simply being kind because she's that type of woman."
"But after yesterday," she said, taking a deep breath. “It’s already exceeded anything I could have imagined. And I want to thank you for that.”
I nearly grabbed her hand in surprise. “What? You don’t need to thank me.”
“I do,” she said, turning toward me. Her expression wasn’t as happy as I thought it would be after what she just said. “But I also need to tell you that if you see me as some kind of less fortunate person that you need to help or give some of your good fortune to, you don’t need to do that. You don’t need to pay for things. I earned enough money for this.”
I frowned. “I’m not doing any of this because I see you as less fortunate. I paid for things yesterday because I wanted to. Are you judging me because my parents are wealthy? I earned the money to get here too.”
“From your parent’s company?” she asked. I looked down at my hands. “I…I don’t mean to sound judgmental. It’s not that. I was one of the poorest kids at my private school. Some people decided to be friends with me because I was from a poor family. Some of them saw me as a project for them to fix or to make themselves feel better. Some of them thought it would give them character. So, if that’s what it is, I get it. I’m used to it. But I’m not the kind of person who takes what she can get. I think you’re a great guy, but I don’t want to be someone’s charity case.”
I rubbed my jaw. “I get that you’re worried because of your history, but I can tell you honestly that I don’t see you as a project or a charity case. I like that you’re honest like this. I like your passion for art. I like learning new things about you. I like how you get easily attached to things. I like that despite the things you’ve been through, you’re cautious, but you’re not jaded. Knowing that, I hope you know that I wouldn’t use you like those other kids have. And I’d like you to know that I did work at my parent’s company for my senior year, but before that, I worked as a busboy for three years.”
She winced and covered her face with her hands. She peeked at me through her fingers. “I’m sorry. I was being as judgmental as I was accusing you of being.”
“I’ll forgive you,” I said. “After we spend another day together.”
Her dark eyes sent a shock under my skin. Her mouth looked inviting, but the rest of her body wasn’t inviting me to come any closer. She slowly dropped her hands away from her face and glanced back at the city’s buildings. “That sounds like a good deal. I wasn’t bluffing when I said that you were the reason yesterday was better than I imagined.”
“You made Paris better than I imagined too,” I said. “But we haven’t even seen half of the attractions. The Louvre doesn’t open until nine, so we have some time to kill. While it’s early and not too hot, we should climb the stairs to the Sacre Coeur.”
“That sounds perfect,” she said. I stood up, starting to walk down the path into the city. She followed me for a minute before catching up to me. There was a bounce to her step. In the light of the sunrise, she was golden.
Chapter 7:
Zandra
“The Tigress Notion company was attacked by a politician for encouraging women to focus on traveling instead of getting a degree,” Mark reads from his tablet. “So, they released an advertisement which showed successful women through the decades who didn’t get a degree. The last two worked on that politician’s campaign.”
