Without hesitation, he’s off carrying a fifty-seven pound suitcase like it weighs nothing, which I find quite impressive.And watching him from behind isn’t bad either.He looks almost as good from this angle as he does from the front.
When we reach the fourth floor, he asks, “What’s your name?”
“Kandace.”
“Kandeese,” he repeats with no inflection that doesn’t tip me off to how he feels about it or me.
“What’s your name?”
There are four doors on this floor.He looks back to me, waiting.
“Forty-two.Quarante-deux,” I say, breaking out my French again.I’ve always heard the French appreciate the effort.Yet no one seems to here.
“Quarante-deux,” he says with a big smile on his face.A little section of hair flops down in front of his eyes and he puffs twice, trying to blow it away.
That’s when I notice his eyes, really notice them—a blue that can’t seem to decide if it wants to be cornflower or steel.I bet the color changes depending on what he’s wearing.
Walking with purpose down the slim hallway, he heads straight for the second to last door on the left.He pulls a key from his pocket and opens the door.I stop a few steps back, and question, “Why do you have a key to my room?”
I follow him inside, cautiously waiting by the open door as he drags my suitcase into the room and props it against the only closest.“Because I checked in two days ago.You take the top because I’m sleeping on the bottom.”
“What?We’re sharing a room?But you’re a guy.”
With a wry grin and a wink, he says, “Oui, all man, my Rayon de Soleil Américain.”While he looks down at his watch, I stare at him in disbelief.
I have a sister, no brothers, and my mom’s been single most of my life.I have never shared a space with a man before.I purposely chose the women’s dormitories freshman and sophomore year, so I could lounge around without makeup.Fears of snoring, his or mine, or both come to mind.Or worse...what if he brings a girl back here to have sex and I have to listen to it.“Surely there has to be another available room.”Remembering what the guy at the desk said, ‘We have one bed left.’I sigh.This is not how my trip was supposed to go.After years of dreaming of the perfect Parisian adventure, it’s falling apart before I’ve even had a chance to see the Eiffel Tower.
“I think they’re full, but I can check for you.”With his hand forward, I take it to shake.His touch is warm and strong, his grip gentle but unrelenting.My eyes travel from where we’re bonded up over the fitted, vintage rock tee that covers his chest past the two, or maybe three days of scruff covering his defined jaw to his full lips that hold a slight tinge of pink.His tongue slips out to wet them and my gaze darts to his eyes.He leans forward and kisses me on both cheeks, lingering longer on the right, then says, “Bonjour, je me présente.Je m’appelle Olivier DeMarche.”
I don’t understand most of what he just said, but I do know thatOlivier DeMarcheis gonna be trouble of the best kind if I’m not careful.
Chapter 2
In high school I wassalutatorian, and I’m still a little bitter about it.My position on that graduation stage had come down to one paper.I earned a perfect score.I thought I had the top title in the bag until I found out the valedictorian got a 103 by doing extra credit I wasn’t aware we could do.That first major loss shaped my college career and my outlook on life.I refuse to come in second place again.So this dream trip is my last break before school starts in three weeks, my last time to let loose before the intensity of senior year kicks in.
Olivier had grabbed his leather jacket and left me alone to unpack or settle in or whatever it was I supposed to do upon arriving.But after a few minutes of freshening up, my adrenaline was overcoming any jet lag I was supposed to be having.I’m too anxious to explore to sit here any longer.My dream of being in France is too powerful to let a tired body hold me back.
