“You okay?” Maddy asks.
“Yeah.” I lean over and hug her. “Thank you.”
“You don’t even know what’s up.” Maddy laughs.
“But I know you helped, so thank you.” I let her go and get out, waving as she turns around and drives away.
The night is warm, but the breeze off the ocean is cool and fresh. It pushes me toward the door to Frappie’s, where I find a sign in Luke’s hand that mimics a Paris metro sign, only it says my name. I trace the edges with my finger, then open the door and step into a dream.
String lights by the dozen dangle and weave through the rafters overhead, giving the whole room a warm, golden glow. Against the counter leans a model of the Eiffel Tower, and the arched doorway into the kitchen has the Arc de Triomphe framing it. The center of the room has been swept clear, and there are several layers of cushions and blankets around a small, low table covered in pastries and cheese. The bare wall to the left is lit up with a projector, paused on the opening shot ofAmélie.
Luke stands at the corner of the lounge area he’s set up,dressed in a nice pair of jeans and a button-up, but thankfully no tie. He’s tamed his hair some, though it’s already rebelling as he runs a hand through it, nervous.
“I thought, in case you can’t go to Paris yourself next year, I could bring Paris to you.” He’s twisting the stem of a flower in his hand, and I take it from him, sticking it behind his ear. Then I drape my arms over his shoulders and lean up to capture his lips with mine. He smiles, and our teeth click. Then he wraps his arms around my waist and twirls me once, carefully.
“Do you like it?” he asks.
“I love it.”
I kiss him again, hard and quick, and he slides a hand up into my hair, holding me to him.
“Iris lent me a series of photos from her museum visits too,” he says, finally taking a breath of space from kissing me. “I thought we could look through those first, then watch the movie?”
I nod and we settle into the pillows. I select a blue macaron and take a bite as he starts the slide show. It tastes slightly floral and isn’t too sweet.
“Did Maddy make these?” I ask, and Luke nods. “Wow, she’s going to go places.” It’s gone in seconds, and I move on to a tiny pain au chocolat. We go through the photos, getting to the Musée d’Orsay last. I ask him to pause it on one of the large water lily photos, standing and brushing the croissant crumbs from my fingers. Up close, the colors blur and pixilate. I stand there and squint my eyes and breathe in and imagine I’m really there—the dappled sunlight streaming in from skylights, the long, curved benches behind me empty. Luke’s shadow joinsmine, his chin coming to rest on my shoulder, his arms around me. My stomach flutters.
“It’s beautiful,” I mutter.
“You’re beautiful,” he says into my hair, his lips trailing down the side of my neck. My body heats, and the butterflies in my stomach travel lower. He pulls me back toward the blankets and puts on the movie, dims some of the twinkle lights, plays with the volume so it’s not too loud, then sits behind me. I take a sip of my lemonade and then settle back into his arms.
I’ve seen the movie before. Amélie’s parents think she has a heart defect, so she lives a safe, quiet, and lonely childhood, but finds small joys in the oddest things. I cringe when her mother is crushed outside Notre-Dame. I always start to enjoy the movie when she finds the hidden box in her apartment and finally starts living.
I take in the scenes of the city as she bikes around Paris on her mission, but I’m distracted by the heat of Luke’s whole body pressed against mine. I trace the lines of his veins down his arms, line up the pads of my fingers against his, and follow the crosshatches and wrinkles in his palm. Soon Amélie’s mission to push her father to travel and her coworkers to fall in love is a background to the desperate need in my chest as it radiates through me. I turn in Luke’s arms and push him back against the pillows. He wraps his hands around my waist under my dress as I straddle him. He whispers my name, playing with the edge of my underwear, and I feel no embarrassment at the heat I know he must feel pulsing from between my legs. I lean forward and kiss him slow at first, then faster. I pull away and work at the buttons on his shirt, revealing more ofhis scar as it leads to the muscles of his stomach. I put my lips to that wrinkle where he was opened, where a part of me will always live, then sit up and pull the dress over my head.
Luke’s eyes go wide and he pulls me closer. I lean away for just a second to reach the pouch in my bag, unzip it, and pull out a condom.
“Sera.” Luke swallows, and I kiss the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple. His strong arms tense as he holds me at a distance, and I can feel him beneath me. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not—”
I interrupt him with my tongue, grinding my hips closer to his so I can feel him rub against me. “I’m ready,” I say against his mouth, pulling back and looking him in the eyes. “I want you, Luke.” Just saying those words out loud sends a thrill through me. Luke groans and rolls us over. Suddenly I feel nervous, like I want to rush through the next few steps. I start to shimmy my underwear off, and Luke stops me.
“Wait,” he says, trailing his mouth down my neck, past my bra, to my hip. He lowers himself until he’s resting his chin on my thigh, looking up for permission, with his hands gripping my hips. “Let me?”
“Yes.” My voice is dry, desperate. His fingers leave a burning trail of goose bumps down my legs as he removes my underwear without breaking eye contact. I suck in a breath as he dips his head between my legs. I flutter my eyes open as he stops and looks up at me, worried at first, then grinning, before leaning back down. In just a few minutes, with the firm press of his focused mouth paired with the flick of his tongue, my whole body is alive and tingling with release.
He sits back on his heels, and I push up on my elbows to take him in. He’s breathing low and fast, his chest rising and falling in time with mine, his eyes a dark, stormy ocean unable to look away from me. He stands up and discards his clothes until he’s naked. I gape for a moment, heat rushing to my already warm cheeks. He kneels and I reach for him. His skin is hot, tacky, his fingertips wandering my body, unable to let go. My bra comes off, and the condom wrapper slips in my shaky fingers. I laugh again. Luke smiles, kisses me, and takes it, opens it with ease. I snatch it back, wanting to slide it on him myself. His whole body tenses, muscles pushing against his skin as I put it on. When I let go and lie back, he relaxes, breathes out slow and controlled, shaking his hair out of his eyes.
“Come here,” I say.
He leans over me, blocking out the light from the movie flickering against the wall. I run my hands through his hair, kiss him as he lies against me. I slip one leg over his back, and we fumble for a moment as he reaches down and finds his way into me. The pressure is tight at first, but he moves slow, and the pain is sharp but quickly over, dulling into a pleasant throb.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yes.” I kiss him quick. “Let’s just go slow?” I ask. “I want to remember this.” I trace his brow, his cheek. He nods and breathes slow, drops his head, and taps my nose with his.
“Me too.”
I take a deep breath and reach my other leg around his thighto pull him closer. He snatches a breath in, and I let out a low moan as the pressure builds again.
