‘I need a few sheets of paper from your notebook and to borrow your pen. I can pay you if you need to buy a new one.’ I reached in my wallet and took out ten euros and held it out to her. ‘Is this enough?’
‘It’s okay! You don’t need to pay me.’ She tore out a few pages from the centre of her book and handed it to me along with a pen.
‘Merci,’ I smiled. ‘I will bring the pen straight back.’ I returned to Laila, waving the pen and paper in the air.
‘Did you just pay that woman for some paper?’ she frowned.
‘Non.Come. Write down something you love about me. Should I ask the lady for more paper? Maybe one sheet isn’t enough.’ I flashed her a mischievous smile.
‘You certainly think a lot of yourself,’ she smiled back.
‘There is nothing wrong with loving yourself. Within reason, of course.’
She took the paper, wrote something down, held it close to her chest so that I could not see it then handed me the pen so I could do the same. Once I’d returned the pen and we’d waited for another group of tourists to take photos, we stood in front of the wall.
‘Would you like me to take it?’ the lady who had given me the paper asked.
‘Oui, merci,’ I said, handing her my phone, then returning to stand next to Laila. Her beautiful scent surrounded me and I tried not to let it affect me. I took a small step away from her to try and create some distance. ‘After three, we should hold up our pieces of paper.D’accord?’
‘Okay,’ Laila agreed.
‘Un, deux, trois!’
Once the lady had taken a few photos, I took my phone back and Laila joined me.
‘Let’s see!’ she said excitedly. ‘I’d like to know what you’ve written.’
Laila stood closer and leaned in as I brought a photo up on the screen. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to let her hypnotic scent affect me again. I almost wrote down how much I loved it.
The truth was that there were so many things that I loved about Laila it was hard to choose just one. Her scent, her smile, her beauty, her strength… I could have filled dozens of pages. And the exciting thing was that there was still so much to discover about Laila.
‘That’s really sweet, thank you,’ she said as she zoomed in on the photo to read my sign.
I had written that I loved her laugh. It was joyful and made my heart feel like it was being pumped full of some kind of happy gas.
Then I remembered that she’d also written something about me. I suspected that it was a very safe comment, like my knowledge of Paris.
I swiped over the screen, moving the image so that I could read her sign.
I love your accent.
I lifted my gaze and looked at Laila, who was smiling.
‘What?’ she frowned. ‘Don’t you like what I wrote?’
‘Of course I like it. I was just surprised, that is all.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I thought that you would choose something more generic, for example you like my shirt or my shorts.’
‘Well,obviouslyI like your shorts. I helped you choose them, remember?’ She laughed. ‘And yes, I was tempted to say I like your shirt. You always look very smart and I like the way that you roll the sleeves up…’ Her eyes dropped to my forearms. ‘You have very nice… anyway, yeah, your accent is nice.’
‘Merci,’ I said, interested that she was about to tell me that she liked my arms. ‘What do you love about it?’
‘It’s deep and… and, well, kind of sexy.’
‘Really?’ I raised my eyebrow at this unexpected compliment. ‘Well, indatcase I think I should er,how do you say, speak more likedis,’ I said in an exaggerated accent.
